20+ Chinese | she/her | Not being appreciated, so I started a blog and maybe have a farm house of my own if I got the money. Sub blog: will-senpai-please-notice-me
knots have got me feeling some kind of way. the idea of being fucked by some... thing with a huge cock and an even bigger knot and knowing as it breaks my pussy in, that knot is going to be inside me regardless of whether I want it to. and that once it's forced inside me, the knot will force their cum inside me til it shinks... or until it gets bored and pulls it's cock out of me...
“Don’t cum. Don’t cum. I said don’t fucking cum, you stupid bitch!” while he’s holding me down by the throat and fingering my dripping, leaky cunt as hard as he can.
enjin slips into the room quiet as ever, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips when he catches you sprawled on the bed with a book in hand.
your legs are bare, panties riding low on your hips, and one of his old oversized shirts hanging loose off your shoulder. the fabric clings just enough to show you skipped the bra tonight, nipples faintly pressing against the cotton.
he doesn’t say a word at first, just climbs onto the mattress behind you, his heat radiating against your skin. he slides his warm palms under the hem of the shirt, starting at your belly.
"you're wearing my shirt again," he mumbles, his voice a low vibration against your ear. "you know i love it when you steal my things, but i love it more when you don't wear anything underneath."
you try to focus on your page, but your breath hitches as his fingertips drift higher, tracing the curve of your ribs. "i'm just relaxing, enjin. go away."
"can't do that doll," he chuckles, his hands finally cupping your plush breasts. he gives a low hum of approval, squeezing them firmly before his thumbs start brushing over your nipples. "god, you're so soft. why the hell do you even wear a bra? you should just stay like this for me every night."
he pinches your nipples gently, rolling them between his fingers until you're arching your back into him, the book completely forgotten. "stop it," you moan, though you're leaning back into his chest. "you're such a menace."
"a menace who knows exactly how to make you leak," he whispers, giving your breasts one last hard squeeze that makes you gasp.
as you turn around to give him a playful swat, he just beams at you. "oh come on doll, dont be mad! you can touch my titties too" he says with that dumbass grin, already yanking his shirt off over his head and tossing it aside, fully tattooed chest on full display as he waits for your hands.
The first mistake Semiu made was mentioning your name. The second mistake was mentioning a girls night. Enjin meanwhile had only wanted someone to drink with.
“C’mon,” he complained, leaning against her desk. “Everyone else’s busy. You’re supposed to be my backup plan.”
Semiu looked up from cleaning her glasses and deadpanned, “I’m honored.”
“You should be.”
“You say that every time.”
“Because it’s true every time.” she rolled her eyes as Enjin continued. “You comin’ or not?”
“No.”
“No?”
“I already have plans.”
Enjin frowned. “With who?”
Semiu didn’t even look up as she mentioned. And the moment she said your name Enjin straightened, “Well, well, well.”
Semiu immediately regretted opening her mouth. “Well, well, well?”
“Well, well, well nothing.”
“That’s never nothing.”
“What kinda plans?” Enjin crossed his arms and squinted at her.
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t.”
“You absolutely do.”
“I don’t.”
“You’ve a crush on her,” Semiu accused.
“I don’t.” . . .he absolutely did.
“You stared at her for ten minutes yesterday because she tucked her hair behind her ear.” Enjin looked absolutely horrified. “You literally said, ‘wow, she tucked her hair behind her ear,’” she continued mercilessly.
“That’s not the point,” he gestured at nothing with a blush.
“Sure.”
“What are you doing together?”
Semiu smiled that evil little smile she for sure learned from Rudo. Enjin should’ve been warned by that. Still listened. “We’re going to an onsen and have a drink or two.”
Enjin’s entire body locked up. You in an onsen. Maybe wearing a cute bathing suit or going completely naked… yeah. No. Shut up brain. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“An onsen.”
“Mmhm.”
“Together.”
“That’s generally how plans work.”
Enjin’s eye twitched. He was jealous, because he wanted to go to an onsen with you too. Semiu watched Enjin’s expression turning from surprised to giddy to jealous and back. Hilarious.
“Y’know,” she continued casually, “We’ll probably spend hours there.”
“Hours?”
“Oh yes.”
Enjin looked like he had been attacked. “Doing what?”
Semiu pretended to think. “Well. Relaxing.”
“Okay.”
“Talking.”
“Okay.”
“Complimenting each other.”
“Why’d you do that?”
“Girls do that.”
“No they don’t.”
No one knew women apparently better than him. Sure. Semiu looked him dead in the eye. “Sometimes we brush each other’s hair.”
Enjin nearly choked. “You don’t!”
“We absolutely do.”
“Y’re making things up.”
“We also share beauty products.”
“Semiu.”
“And sometimes we sit really close together and discuss our feelings.”
“Semiu.”
She finally lost the battle against laughter. The expression on his face was priceless. He looked like a man watching his entire future collapse.
“Are you seriously telling me you’re going to spend the whole day acting like some romance novel?”
“Maybe.”
Enjin groaned dramatically and dragged a hand down his face. “This is torture.”
“You did this to yourself.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You fell in love.”
“I’m not in love.”
Semiu barked out a laugh. “Right.”
Before Enjin could argue further she stood up and put her glasses on. “Anyway I should go.”
“Wait.”
“What?”
“What are you actually going to talk about?”
Semiu considered leaving him to suffer, then she decided one final jab wouldn’t hurt. “Oh.” her grin returned. “We were probably going to discuss whether Gris or you suits her better.”
Enjin blinked so slowly Semiu was worried he might had a stroke. “What?” he whispered.
“Interesting topic, right?”
“Gris?”
“Maybe.”
“Why’s Gris involved?”
“That’s for us to decide.”
“Semiu.”
“Bye Enjin.”
“Semiu!”
She started walking away and Enjin hurried after her. He got no fucks to give if he looked pathetic.
“Who’s winning?”
“Not telling you.”
“Semiu!”
“Maybe Gris.”
“Semiu!”
“Maybe you.”
“Semiu!”
“Depends on your behavior.”
Enjin looked seconds away from collapsing. He couldn’t lose you to Gris. Or someone else. His poor heart. “Please?”
“No.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“Just one hint.”
Semiu laughed as she disappeared around the corner. “Good luck.”
And just like that she was gone. Leaving poor Enjin alone who was miserable now. Also he obsessively wondered now if you preferred him or Gris.
By the time evening arrived, he had somehow convinced himself that there was an official scorecard involved…. Which was exactly the reaction Semiu had hoped for.
Cards on the table. Gris was never part of the conversation, because you were also in love with Enjin. But Semiu found he didn’t need to know that, considered his little late nights shenanigans. They had stopped yes, but Semiu was a good friend who didn’t want you to get hurt.
In conclusion: she told Enjin some bullshit so he’d finally fight for you.
You sigh in relief as you feel the warm water washes over your skin as you sink into the tub.
“Fuck this is just what I needed” you say, closing your eyes as you feel the water melting all of the stress of the day away. You stretch to work out all the kinks in your muscles.
“Geez love you couldn’t even bother waiting for me?” you hear a lazy voice from the bathroom entrance.
You open your eyes to see Enjin hovering in the doorway naked. Just seeing his tall slim frame has butterflies fluttering in your stomach.
“Don’t be a stranger, come join me in the bath” you say moving in the tube to make room for him.
Enjin eases into the tub with a yelp “Jesus woman why is the water temperature on hell!?!? Are you trying to kill me by boiling me alive?”
“Pretty sure those cancer sticks of yours will get you first, or did you not think I would notice what’s in your hand?” you inquire with a quirk of your brow.
He gives you a grin while he lights the cigarette between his slender fingers.
“Reallly Enjin while in the bath? And you’re sure you’re not addicted?” you ask.
“Not at all babe I can quit anytime” he says as the hazy smoke fills his lungs. “Come closer to me” he says as he pulls you close with one arm, your back against his chest.
“Enjin we have to make this quick I don’t want to get pruny like last time” you whine.
“Just let me enjoy this time with you love, you know how much I enjoy our alone time” he says as he exhales the smoke out his lungs making sure to blow the smoke away from your face.
You decide to make the most of this time. You turn to gently start to massage his hair taking your time to softly rake your nails against his scalp paying special attention to his undercut and being careful around his scar. You know the scar doesn’t hurt him anymore but you take care to not irritate the delicate skin. You begin to detangle the blonde locks that have matted from the dirt and grime from the latest fight with the trash beasts. He sighs in appreciation from the tender loving care that you’re showing him. He relishes in this attention when he can finally just relax and be.
He closes his eyes and you can’t help but admire him at times like this. When he’s not the leader of the Akuta and leading you all into battle against trash beasts or raiders. When he’s just Enjin. You treasure these small moments with him knowing each one is a blessing in the Abyss and that anytime this could be ripped away from you. You break away from him and get lost in those golden eyes as he stares off into space. Your eyes wander lower to see water trickling down his blackout tattoos, down his chest, right down to the blonde happy trail leading below the water.
“See something you like sweetheart?” Enjin teases with a cocky grin on his face.
You feel your face heat up from being caught shamelessly ogling him. You look at him shyly, “Always when I’m looking at you”
He smirks and puts out his cigarette on the side of the tub. He makes a come hither motion with his finger. You scoot closer to him and he leans in. Your lips meet and all you feel are fireworks. Everything just feels right. The kiss starts off soft with small pecks and your lips moving gently against each other until Enjin swipes his tongue on your bottom lip and when you open up things change. The kiss becomes desperate. Your tongues dance to a rhythm only known between the two of you and you can’t help but, moan at the taste of him. A taste of tobacco and a hint of sweetness from the desserts you both ate earlier. The taste just so Enjin.
You move even closer to him to sit on his lap. You immediately feel how hard he is and grind down. A low groan escapes his throat and he grabs onto your hips. You feel your cunt start to ache and your hole clench around nothing at the alluring sound. The kiss breaks apart, a string of saliva connecting you two together. He begins to pepper kisses on the side of your neck, biting down on your pulse point being sure to leave a mark to make sure everyone at HQ knows who you belong to. At this point you can feel how wet you are and move your messy folds along his length.
“How about we move this to the bedroom love?” Enjin says while looking at you with half lidded eyes.
You lay against the satin sheets while Enjin settles between your legs. The setting sun paints the room with a golden glow.
“I’ve been thinking about this sweet pussy all day” he sighs as he swipes a finger through your wet folds.
“Shit baby is all of this for me?” he says as he pulls a finger away that’s now glistening with your slick.
“Always for you, only for you” you say in a daze.
“Damn right it is” he states as he finally licks a stripe along your cunt and you release a loud moan of his name that you’re sure the whole compound can hear.
“That’s right baby let them know who you belong to” he says as he swipes his tongue over your puffy clit. Taking his time to draw small circles while he prods your entrance with a finger.
“Enjin please don’t tease me” you whine as you grind your cunt against his face trying to push his finger inside.
Enjin decides to have mercy on you and slowly inserts his finger immediately curling it and hitting your sweet spot. He works his magic on your clit and it feels like sparks dancing across your skin. You thank God that not only did you find a man that loves to eat pussy but, one that’s good at it too. He begins to swirl his tongue around your clit as he inserts another finger. You can feel your peak coming and it doesn’t take long before you’re cumming on his tongue and clenching down on his fingers.
“God you’re so beautiful when you cum” he says looking up at you with a lustful smile.
“Let me return the favor Enjin” you drunkenly say.
You two switch positions and Enjin lays against the sheets. You begin by placing small kisses along his inner thighs working your way up to the head of his cock, licking the bead of pre gathered at the dusty rose tip making Enjin release a husky groan. You slowly lick from base to tip, paying attention to swirl your tongue around the head.
“Baby please” he begs. You slowly lower your warm mouth down his length, taking the time to suck in your cheeks as you begin to bob your head up and down.
“Fuck your mouth is perfect” Enjin whimpers.
He may not have the most girth but what he lacks in girth he makes up for in length. You take your time, swallowing more each time you suck until your nose is pressed up against his blonde pubes. You gag around his length and tears begin to form at the corners of your eyes. You look up and you know it’s worth it with the view you have. His messy blonde locs are scattered all over his head. He has his head thrown back, his mouth a perfect O as lewd moans escapes his lips. A flush paints his cheeks and a sheen of sweat glistens along his skin that makes it look like he’s glowing.
He feels like he’s in heaven with your warm wet mouth wrapped around his cock. He makes eye contact with you and the eye contact heightens the pleasure even more. He feels a tingle in his balls and he knows he’s close.
“Shit not yet love” he whispers as he eases your mouth off of him.
He gently lays you back on the bed and hovers over you as he lines his tip with your entrance. He slowly eases in and the stretch feels euphoric.
“Enjin” you whine as you suddenly feel full.
“Don’t worry I got you, just hang on to me” he says through clenched teeth trying his best to allow you to get used to his size. You wrap your arms around his neck and he starts to pick up his pace, plap plap plap sounds start to fill the room.
“Fuck so tight, and wet, and divine” he groans as he peppers soft petal like kisses all over your face. He takes the time to pinch and twist your nipples sending ripples of pleasure throughout your body. You feel your peak coming again and when it hits it hits hard. Your legs begin to tremble and shake as waves of pleasure wash over you. You wrap your legs around the small of his back to try to ground yourself.
“Enjin I can’t-“ you slur as he pounds into you, thrusts unrelenting as he chases his release. Ramming into that spongy spot over and over again driving you over the edge yet again. Tears cling to your lashes as he pushes you to the point of over stimulation and all of a sudden you feel overwhelming pleasure and a rush of liquid escape you and splash right onto Enjin’s pelvis.
“Fuck baby just hold on a little longer, shit- I’m almost there” he says as his thrusts become sloppy. He feels his balls tighten and ruts into you one more time, reaching his peak, warm spurts of cum painting your walls white.
You cling onto him, the only anchor keeping you grounded to reality in your haze of pleasure. He places his forehead against yours and you both stare into each others eyes, a look of love being shared between you two that words can never convey. He smiles and looks down to where you two are joined.
“We really made a mess” he says as he slides out of you with a hiss. He takes the time to kiss your temple and massage your inner thighs to soothe the tension away, “You relax here love, I’ll go run us another bath”.
You watch him walk to the bathroom and although your limbs feel like jelly you feel like you’re on cloud nine.
synopsis: ex-manwhore!sukuna is utterly obsessed with his shyvirgin!girlfriend and he's sleeping with her for the first time
✮⋆˙ 18+ MDNI, smut || wc: 1.3k
you’re quiet.
too quiet.
sukuna notices immediately, because you’re usually so fucking sweet when you’re nervous. always asking silly little questions. always checking if he wants anything, if his coffee is too sweet or if he’s sure he likes your outfit. little things.
but tonight, when you tug him into your room and sit beside him on the bed, you just go quiet.
and stay that way.
sukuna watches you tuck your legs under yourself. eyes wide. your fingers are picking at the hem of your shirt.
and then you murmur, “you don’t have to, y’know.”
he blinks. “have to what?”
“sleep with me.” your voice is tiny.
“i know i’m not… i don’t look like the cooler girls you’ve been with before. i w-won’t be good at it. at sex, i mean.”
“i’ve never actually-” you pause and flail your arms around, adorably. “like you know… done it before…”
sukuna doesn’t say anything at first.
just reaches out. brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. you flinch, like you’re expecting him to pull away instead.
he feels his heart shatter a little.
“hey.”
you look up.
“that shit? that’s not why i’m here.”
you try to smile. fail.
he cups your cheek. thumb stroking softly across your skin.
“i’m here ‘cause it’s you. and yeah, i’ve been with a lot of people before. but none of them were you. none of them made me this fuckin’ hard just from lookin’ at them nervous on a bed.”
your breath hitches. he leans closer and presses his forehead to yours.
“you don’t have to pretend to be anyone else. just let me touch you. let me taste you. that’s all i want right now.”
you nod. shyly.
so he kisses you.
slow at first. then deeper. hungrier.
his tongue slides against yours like he’s memorising the shape of your mouth.
his big hands cradle your face, then they slide down. thumbs brushing the undersides of your tits through your shirt until your nipples pebble and you whimper into his kiss.
he groans low in his throat. then, pulls back just enough to look at you. his pupils blown against his red irises, lips wet.
“fuck, look at you.”
he peels your shirt off slowly, reverently, but the second your bare skin hits the air his mouth is back on you.
kissing down your throat. sucking softly at your pulse.
finally, his lips closing around one nipple with his tongue flicking and teeth grazing just enough to make you arch.
he switches sides, sucks harder while his hand knead the other breast like he can’t get enough.
“these are perfect,” he mutters against your skin. “been thinkin’ about gettin’ my mouth on them for weeks.”
you’re shaking when he finally gets your shorts and panties down your thighs.
he spreads your legs gently, but the way he stares at you, all ravenous, makes heat flood your face.
“that’s pretty fuckin’ pussy,” he growls. “all wet for me already.”
he doesn’t dive in. he teases first with his fingers tracing your folds.
he spreads your legs open so he can see how slick you are. how your clit throbs under his thumb when he circles it slowly.
you gasp, hips jerking.
“easy, baby.” he kisses the inside of your thigh. “let me take care of you.”
then his mouth is there.
hot. wet. filthy.
his tongue, flat and broad, licking up your slit, groaning like you taste better than anything he’s ever tasted.
he sucks your clit gently at first, then harder, flicking the tip of his tongue until your thighs tremble around his head.
two thick fingers push inside you, curling just right, and he hums against you when you clench.
“that’s it. fuck, you’re tight.”
“gonna feel so good around my cock.”
you come so hard you think you’re dying.
your back arching, fingers in his hair, crying his name.
but, he doesn’t stop.
he just laps you through it, slower now, drinking every shudder until you’re whimpering from overstimulation.
sukuna kisses his way back up your body, mouth shiny with your slick. when he kisses you again you taste yourself on his tongue and moan into it.
“you ready for me?” he asks, voice wrecked.
you nod, breathless and needy. “yes. please.”
he rids himself of his clothes fast. his thick cock springing free and already leaking at the tip. he strokes himself once, twice, smearing precum over the head while he watches your face.
“look at what you do to me, baby.”
he lines up against you, slow. rubbing the fat head through your folds. coating himself in your slick.
then he pushes in, just the tip for now, and you both groan.
“fuck- you’re a tight little thing.”
“breathe for me.”
inch by inch he sinks inside, stretching you open and filling you until you feel split apart in the best way. he’s shaking with restraint, forehead pressed to yours, whilst murmuring filth and praise in the same breath.
“so good. takin’ me so fuckin’ deep. look at you.”
“this pussy swallowin’ every inch like it was made for me.”
when he’s buried to the hilt he stills, letting you adjust.
he kisses you, soft yet dirty, while his hips give tiny, grinding rolls that make you see stars.
“you okay?”
“y-yeah. move. please move.”
he does. every slide hits something inside you that makes your toes curl.
he hooks one of your legs over his hip, changes the angle to hit that spot that makes you cry out.
“right there?” he growls.
“yeah, that’s it. gonna make you come on my cock. want you squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight when you do.”
wet sounds filling the room. his balls slapping softly against you. the creak of the bed.
he keeps whispering in your ear the whole time.
“you feel so good. better than anything.”
“never had pussy this perfect. never gonna get enough of you.”
when sukuna feels you starting to clench even harder around him. he reaches between you with his thumb finding your clit. rubbing messy circles.
“come for me, baby. let me feel it. soak my cock.”
you do. shattering around him, your nails digging into his shoulders.
he fucks you through it even with his pace faltering and hips stuttering.
“fuck— i’m gonna come. where do you want it, baby?”
“i-inside,” you gasp. “please! i want you to cum inside me.”
he buries himself deep and comes with a broken groan. you feel his thick seed filling you up, until you feel it leaking out.
afterwards, he doesn’t pull out right away. he stays inside you. his cock slowly softening, while he kisses you all over, a contrast to how he just fucked you.
he finally slips out with a wet sound that makes you blush.
he leaves to go grab a warm towel from the bathroom. then he begins wiping between your thighs so gently it almost makes you cry again.
he murmurs, “easy, sweetheart. i got you. made such a mess of you, huh?”
then, he pulls one of his oversized shirts over your head and tucks you against his chest. his arms wrapped around you like a shield.
“was that okay, baby?” he asks, voice rough.
you nod timidly, then whisper, “but i still feel… not enough sometimes. i can’t help it.”
his hold tightens.
“you are more than enough. you just took all of me, every single inch, and you’re still here in my arms lookin’ like the prettiest fuckin’ thing i’ve ever seen.”
“i wasted years chasing nothing. meaningless highs. you’re the only thing that’s ever felt real.”
he kisses your temple and rubs your back in slow circles until your breathing evens.
“you’re mine now. all mine. and i’m not lettin’ you doubt that.”
“not tonight. not ever.”
you curl tighter into him. he keeps you close with his hand splayed over your heart.
his fingers tangled with yours until you drift off. snoring gently.
sukuna doesn’t sleep much. he’s content with just listening to you breathe.
Love Potion (Obsessive Fan!Enjin x Game Streamer! Fem Reader)
Summary - You’re one of the most popular video game streamers and decide to finally hold a meet and greet for your fans. What happens when you meet your biggest fan?
SMUT WARNING (18+ only): Vaginal Fingering, Squirting, Oral Sex (F Receiving), Blowjobs, Vaginal Sex, Public Sex
Pairing: Enjin x Fem Reader
A/N: I finally present to you Frieren.
Playlist Inspiration made by me higly recommend to listen to this while reading to get the vibe:
W/C: 3,762
“Awwwww Pantydropper69 thank you so much for the big donation”, you say smoothly as you blow a kiss and wink at the camera. You had finally beat Malenia in Elden Ring and you’re ecstatic to complete such a feat on your own. You’d spent the past 2 hours fighting her and to say you feel accomplished is an understatement. Being given a $400 donation to celebrate definitely puts you in a good mood even if they were flirting with you through a donation. That fan could be a bit perverted at times but they were your biggest supporter and always showed up to each stream no matter how late you started. You looked past their pervertedness since they supported you throughout your whole career.
“Alright guys I’m gonna end the stream. Thank you so much to everyone that came out to support me! I appreciate each and every one of you”, you declared as you turned off your camera and ended the stream.
You immediately hop out your chair and stretch working out all of the kinks in your muscles from sitting too long. You make your way to the bathroom and run yourself a bubble bath filled with your favorite scented oils and rose petals. It’s a self love ritual for you and you make sure to do this at least once a week. You disrobe and soak your body in the warm water, relaxing as all your aches and stress from the day wash away. Your brain wonders as you think of tomorrow. You would be doing your first meet and greet ever tomorrow and you wanted a clear mind to give your fans your very best. It’s what they deserved after all. You are curious though, you wonder if Pantydropper69 will be there.
Enjin groans as he pumps his heavy cock as he replays the clip of you winking and sending a kiss at the camera over and over again.
“Y-Y/N”, he groans as he speeds up. Wet shlicking sounds echo throughout the room from the obscene amount of lube he was using. He imagined it was your hands stroking him and that imagery was all he needed to be sent over the edge. Warm spurts of hot cum covers his hands and abs.
He sits there as he continues to rewatch the same clip sighing in relief, “Fuck girl, I can’t wait to see you tomorrow”, he coos as he caresses his monitor with his clean hand. 8 years that’s how long he’s been watching you and he’s finally going to meet you. To say he was ecstatic would be an understatement; he is your number 1 fan after all.
You sit at the meet and greet table, stomach rumbling in anticipation. There was already a line formed when you got here and it was making you anxious. You knew you were loved by your community but you weren’t expecting a turn out this big, especially so early.
You give the security guards the okay to let people in and there’s a rush of people that rush to your table but only one is the winner to be your first fan to meet you in person.
“Hey girl how you doin?”, you hear a deep voice ask. You look up and right in front of you is the finest man you’ve ever seen in your entire life. He has messy blonde hair paired with an undercut, golden eyes that pierced through you, full pink lips, lean muscular arms covered in blackout sleeve tattoos, and stretched ears. You noticed he had a scar on the right side of his head that gave him a dangerous aura. Like he’s danced with death before and now nothing can scare him.
You felt yourself heat up just by staring at him. You were close enough to smell him and he smelled of weed and a woodsy cologne that almost had you moaning at the scent.
“You doing okay?”, he questions as he looks down at you.
To Enjin you looked really cute at the moment. He’s finally getting the chance to meet you after all these years and here is the thing Enjin knows he’s hot. He already knows the effect he has on women and men so he’s pretty sure he knows exactly what’s going through your mind much to his benefit.
“H-Hi yes, I’m Y/N”, you stammer as you stand and shake his hand.
“Well of course you are, I came here just for you”, he says with a wink, “But just a handshake, pretty girl? You won’t give more for your biggest fan? I at least want a hug”, he jokes.
“You’re Pantydropper69!?”, you gasped in shock.
This was your biggest fan!? You always chose to ignore his perverted tendencies because he donated the most money and a large sum of it at that. And he looked like this the whole frickin time? You were expecting some horny teenaged boy, not this specimen of a man in front of you. You gulp as you notice your hand is still in his. Your hand is tiny compared to his completely engulfed in his tattooed hand.
“The one and only”, he responds as he releases your hand and spreads his arms with a bow,”But the names Enjin, pleasure to finally meet you Y/N”, he says with a gorgeous smile, dimples deepening. Wait dimples on top of being ridiculously hot!? Yeah you were doomed.
“O-of course please come closer”, you say.
He walks up to the side of the table and wraps his arms around you and rests one hand on the back of your head, cradling you in his arms. You were completely enveloped by him and his presence. You can’t remember the last time you felt at peace like this. At that moment all that mattered was you and him.
Enjin doesn’t even know how to describe what he’s feeling. You’re so small and fit so perfectly in his arms. This was just confirmation to him. You two were made for each other. He sniffed your hair and you smelled of vanilla and coconuts, a scent he was sure to memorize.
“Alright Y/N you have to move to the next person”, your manager says, breaking you both out of your reverie.
“If you want to chat with me check your DMs”, he whispers in your ear as he steps away.
As soon as you move onto the next fan he rushes to the bathroom and barely closes the stall door before he’s pulling his pants and boxers down and gripping his throbbing cock tightly. He lifts his shirt with his other hand and bites down on it tightly. He can’t believe he’s touching himself with the hand that touched your own. He bites his shirt to hold in his moans as he pumps himself.
He’s not sure if it’s a placebo effect or not but he swears it’s never felt this good before. It’s not long before he’s cumming all over his hand and ecstasy floods his body as he leans against the stall wall.
You felt so guilty as the meet and greet went on. You can barely focus on your fans as your thoughts swirl around Enjin. He was just your type and he so happens to be your biggest fan. You got to get to know him. To your surprise you see him back in your line.
Enjin couldn’t help himself; he had to see you again.
“Enjin!”, you shout with glee and the radiant smile that graces your face when your eyes meet his has butterflies fluttering in his stomach.
“No Y/N it’s time for your lunch break. We can start with him after you take some time for yourself”, your manager states before you two can hug again. She sees the way you’re eyeing him and is trying to place distance between you two so your other fans don’t feel left out.
He leans down and whispers in your ear, “Meet me in the family bathroom”.
xoxo
The kiss between you two was hot and hungry. As desperate as a dehydrated man finding an oasis in the desert. Tongues dancing between you two as you explore each other's mouths. Desperately clawing off Enjin’s clothes and your own. Groping each other all over lewdly. You notice that Enjin is thick, like ridiculously thick.
You drop to your knees as you undo his belt buckle and are happy at the sight that greets you and wonder if he knew that this was gonna happen. You would be upset at him expecting this if you weren’t so horny for him. Your mouth is watering as you admire how thick and heavy he is, needing to feel him on your tongue now.
He couldn’t handle you staring at him like that. You on your knees staring at his dick with hungry eyes had him ready to bust. You barely had enough time to squeeze this into your 30 minute lunch.
You feel the cold tile floor underneath your knees as you take him in your hand. You tease him with kitten licks all along his head and hear him hiss at the sensation. You look up at him and could cum from the sight alone
“Please please don’t tease me”, he whimpers.
At that you decide to have mercy and take him into your mouth. Corners burning from the stretch of him as you take him deeper and deeper into your mouth.
“Fuck who’s my perfect lil slut”, he groans as he grips your hair pistoning in and out of your warm mouth. Spit gurgling in the back of your throat with every thrust and tears welling in your eyes from how much his cock is stretching your lips. The noises you two were making are filthy and you both should really be mindful considering you’re in a public setting but neither of you can find any fucks to give.
“That’s right baby choke on it. Y/N”, he moans as his core winds up tighter and tighter. You dig your sharp acrylics into the meat of his thighs and that’s all the stimulation he needs to be pushed over the edge, “Y/N fuckfuckfuckfuck”, he whimpers.
Like he actually whimpered and the sound of it made you pulse around nothing pathetically. Desperate for any stimulation at the moment even if you had to grind your fat pussy against his boots on this grimy bathroom floor. You’d take any stimulation at this point.
He eases himself out of your mouth,”How about you let me take you out some time? Let me worship you baby”, he says as he cleans up your ruined mascara.
You look up at him with a dopey grin, “I’d really love that Enjin”.
xoxo
After the meet and greet you lay in your bed staring at the ceiling as thoughts of Enjin swirl in your mind. You hate to admit it but you’re up late thinking about him. He was perfect just your type with a velvety smooth deep voice. Right he told you to check your DMs to talk to him.
You open up Instagram and go straight to your DMs. Sure enough you see the most recent message is from Pantydropper69, you chuckle to yourself but waste no time opening it up.
Your phone was flooded with messages from him and some of them were explicit making you core throb. How on earth have you been missing out on this man this whole time? You’ve been unwillingly celibate for two years and after your time in the bathroom you needed that dick down real bad. You sent a message hoping to get his attention. You receive a response immediately and you grin at the reply. He’s asking if he can call so you quickly give him your number and wait for a response even though it’s 1AM. Not even 10 seconds pass before your phone is ringing from an unknown number.
“Hello”, you speak into your phone with a smile barely able to contain your excitement from speaking to him again.
“Hey Y/N, I just wanted to hear your voice again”, his smooth voice replies.
“I wanted to hear yours too Enjin”, you felt your face heat up at his words. You love a man that’s not scared to be honest about his emotions. You found emotional maturity and vulnerability to be very attractive in a man.
‘So I have to ask since we’re talking at 1AM. What are you wearing?’, he says with a smirk you can hear.
“Really Enjin? How cliche, what are we in a romcom?”, you giggled as you twirled your hair.
“Come on Y/N play along with me, pretty please with a cherry on top?”.
“Fine fine Imma be honest I sleep nude so I’m not wearing anything right now”.
“Fuck that’s hot”, he groans as he spits on his hand before pumping his cock. Lube be damned, there was no way he was going to have a second of your angelic voice go to waste.
You hear wet schlicking sounds in the background and are immediately turned on, “Enjin are you touching yourself right now?”, you ask as you bite your bottom lip.
“Damn right I am, join me Y/N. Touch yourself for me baby girl”, he moans as pleasure floods his senses.
You lower your hand to your pussy and aren’t surprised to find out that you’re wet. Before the call you were recalling the moment you two shared in the bathroom. You circle your clit lightly before inserting a finger and curling immediately finding honing in on your sweet spot causing you to let out a loud moan.
You hear Enjin curse as you hear his hand speed up, “You sound so sexy Y/N. Tell me how it feels baby’.
“Feels so g-good, Enjin. Wish it was your fingers inside me instead’, you stammer as the pleasure increases.
“Shit Y/N”, he groans as he cums all over his hand as that mental image sends him over the edge.
“E-Enjin”, you moan as you’re sent right over the edge with him.
You both sit in silence as you come down from your highs.
“What do you have planned for next weekend Y/N? If you’re not busy I’d love to take you out”, he says breathless.
“I’m free! You have my number, just text me the details and I’ll be ready”.
“Yes he literally fought him with a plunger. They had a doo doo duel”, Enjin explains causing you both to laugh.
You were laughing so hard your stomach was cramping and tears were running down your face. This has been the best date you've ever been on. Enjin has had you laughing the entire time and it turns out you both have a lot in common. You’ve also learned that Enjin takes care of his 3 younger siblings Zanka, Rudo, and Riyo after their parents passed which just made you admire him. He hasn’t lived an easy life but it hasn’t dimmed his light.
“Here’s the check sir”, the waiter addresses Enjn.
“Please Enjin let me help”, you say as you grab your wallet from your purse.
“Absolutely not, I said I wanted to worship you, remember? Let a man treat you like you deserve”, he states plainly as he hands the waiter his bklack card.
“I’ll be honest Enjin, I don't want this night to end. Do you wanna come over to my place?”, you ask hoping he’ll say yes.
“I’d love to doll, let’s get out of here”.
xoxo
“Let me taste you baby”, he whispers against your skin as he places himself between your legs. Kissing your inner thighs teasignly.
He eyes your creamy cunt and licks his lips. He takes a greedy lick and moans. You tasted of the sweetest ambrosia to ever grace his lips. Like a forbidden fruit, intoxicating yet addictive. He explores every inch of your plump cunt before digging his tongue into your hole
You grip onto his messy locs as your toes curl. His hot wet tongue feels heavenly against your plump pussy.
"Just like that Enjin, baby you feel so good", you say with a harsh tug making him groan.
“As good as you taste Y/N I need you now”, he says as he sits up and lines up his thick cock against you.
“E-Enjin wait you’re not gonna fit without more prep”, you whisper.
“Can’t wait any longer Y/N I’ve been waiting years for this”, he groans as he bullies his thick cock into your cunt. He can’t believe that this is actually happening. After all the years of yearning, the flirty banter over the course of the past week, even the phone sex. Nothing compared to finally being inside you.
He places his forehead against yours, closing his eyes to seal this moment in his mind forever. This, this was addictive. He knows now that he had a taste of you he needed you in his life, he’s never letting you go after this. He doesn’t know what he needs to keep you by his side but he’s going to make it his mission to figure it out.
“Mmmm baby you take me so well. You were made f’me huh pretty girl?”, he coos as he thrusts into you with abandon. Like now that he finally has you he can’t hold back anymore. Dragging his cock out to the tip before slamming back in. His grip on your hips was bruising and you wouldn’t be surprised if you had the shape of his hands as a bruise after this.
He grinds into you sensually hitting that sweet spot that makes your eyes roll back.
“Fuck she’s fuckin creamin on me”, he groans as he begins to thrust erratically.
He sees you spit on your hand and begin to quickly rub your clit, “Fuckin nasty bitch”, he groans.
You feel so full as he fills you up with each thrust. You’ve never had someone so focused on your pleasure before, this is unlike any sex you’ve ever had before. You’re unbelievably wet and filthy sounds of your wet pussy echoes around the room.
“You hear her talkin to me? Think she loves the way I dick her down”, he slurs with a goofy chuckle, “Yeah she fuckin loves me”, he looks up and notices pearly tears leaking from your eyes, “Awww crying on this dick already baby”, he coos as he twirls a strand of your hair before gripping it tightly and pulling exposing your neck to him. He bites down hard enough for the metallic taste of your blood to hit his tongue. He moans at the coppery taste, eyes rolling to the back of his head from the primitive weight of the raw sex you’re having.
“Come on pretty girl, don't you hide ‘dem noises from me. Let me hear how good I’m making you feel”, he groans as he goes unbelievably deeper. Heavy balls slapping against your taint as the nasty sounds of your lovemaking echo through the room. Groans and moans getting higher and higher as you both get closer. You swore you two became each other's yin and yang at this very moment. Life changing sex so good that you just had to be with one another after this, there was no other choice.
He’s so deep you swear you could feel him in your lungs. He presses down on the small bulge in your stomach and you come with a wanton moan, vision whitening from the absolute pleasure that pulses through your body.
“F-Fuck Y/N baby you feel so good- uh- I’m about to bust a nut tell me where you want it”, he laughs maniacally, then biting his lower lip so harshly he draws blood. Metallic taste overriding his senses yet again.
“Inside Enjin puhleaze I need it so bad baby”, you slur as he rams his thick cock into you again and again without mercy.
Bed banging against your apartment walls letting everyone know what was going on in your room. You would try to be mindful but he’s fucking your brain smooth. Replacing them with nothing but thoughts of him all over. You swore you could feel him in your soul as you felt his tip kiss your cervix sending you into overwhelming pleasure as you squirt all over your inner thighs, his crotch, and the sheets below. Squirting an ocean as your sheets became absolutely drenched in your creamy cum.
“That’s it Y/N, just like that. Make a mess f’me”, he whimpers as he cums deep inside you. Warm spurt after spurt of his spend floods your hole. Filling up your tight pussy with even more fluids that seep out of your fluttering hole creating a sticky mess underneath you.
Enjin groans as he sees the mixture seep from your abused hole.
You laugh deliriously and it makes him smile. You go to get up but feel your legs give out as you plop back on the bed and groan.
“Just tell me where the sheets are and I’ll get them changed and then I’ll be out of your hair”, he chuckles.
At this you shoot straight up, “You’re not spending a night!?”, you screech out loudly.
“I didn’t think you would want me to stay”, he says as he looks down sheepishly.
“Of course I want you to stay. How dinner went and what we just had was incredible! I still don’t want the night to end yet”, you explain.
Enjin has to hold himself together at those words. Did you really feel what he felt for you? He’d never think in his wildest dreams that you would willingly desire him outside of sex like most women he’s had situationships with. Quoting that he was too nerdy, weird, and had too much baggage caring for his siblings to actually pursue something serious with him.
“Alright Y/N I’ll be right back. Maybe we can binge the Harry Potter series together since I don’t work tomorrow and it’s your off day”, he says as he pats your head affectionately with a warm smile on his face.
The smile that came from you was brighter than a thousand suns and spoke in a language words could never convey.
“I’d really love that Enjin, geez what did you have a love potion in your dick or something”, you joke causing both of you to chuckle. This was the start of a beautiful relationship.
• SUMMARY: Tired of being a virgin, you’re ready to find yourself a man you deem suitable. Gris, your safest choice, turns you down, so a casual group trip to a nearby settlement becomes your plan B. But Enjin, secretly crushing on you, can’t stand to watch you flirt with others. After he sabotages your hunt, the confrontation soon exposes your secret to him. Suddenly, he’s faced with a choice whose answer is far more obvious than he expected. MDNI.
• CONTAINS: SMUT with plot, virgin!reader, cleaner!reader, Enjin and reader are both messy/toxic, push and pull, some fluff, bad humor, anime spoilers (at least for the last episode), jealous and protective Enjin, reader wears makeup and dresses in a feminine way, drinking, Enjin’s kind of nice/ patient here but he’s also insufferable (and makes some disrespectful comments), unprotected + rough sex, praise, dry humping, dirty talk, oral fem receiving, handjob, hair pulling, multiple os, grinding at the dancefloor, reader is honestly excited to finally have sex. WORD COUNT: 18k (i’m sorry, i got too invested in the story, but pls give it a chance <3…)
• NOTE: 1. Even if reader loses her virginity here, don’t consider it a realistic take on first time. And, obviously, you don’t have to be a virgin to read the story haha. I’m just having fun writing dirty Enjin. 2. Reader’s age isn’t specified, other than her being described as an adult, so it’s really up to you to decide what you consider losing v card late to be. And I want you to know there’s nothing shameful about being a virgin, regardless of how old you are or what this fic might portray❣️Everything written here is for funsies.
“You should save it for someone special.” — is the sentence that makes you realize you are being friend-zoned.
Friend-zoned by Gris, who, in your humble opinion, happens to worry too much about being chivalrous sometimes. Friendly rejected in a narrow space of a work truck you dragged him into for privacy, with you and him currently hiding in the underground garage.
Expected in hindsight, unexpected in impact.
You exhale deeply, receiving little relief when the car still stinks like cigarettes of a certain individual. The plea in your eyes is tainted with a speck of annoyance. “I don't care about someone special. I might as well never find them,” you reply with exasperation, rubbing your face. Most are asleep at this hour, yet you are here, almost begging to be ruined by a handsome man.
Gris frowns, as if you are undervaluing yourself. “How come? You are a lovely woman, and…”
You admire him for his reverence, but honestly, his romantics have you cringing when you're on hunt to be fucked…
… For the very first time in your life, if not including the way he’s fucking up with your ambitions.
You think his reasoning is something a teenage girl would love to hear, and while she deserves the best, it’s not something an adult woman who has made up her mind — mind you, with maturity and hours of pondering — would want to now hear.
“Look, I won’t pressure you — it’s all your choice. But I want you to know we don’t have to be in love for this. That’s totally fine by me. No grudges will be held,” you try to bargain with the most cordial tone you can muster, even if your fingers nervously drum against the armrest. You want to respect his wishes no matter how eager and frustrated you may be.
Gris laughs nervously; you for sure are one of an attractive lady in his eyes, yet he’s not sure if he’s willing to complicate the friendship built between you two in exchange for few moments of relief. Being so close to you has him flustered already — your top lingers low on your chest today, as if you’re using a bait on him.
“I appreciate that. I really do. You could say I’m flattered it’s me who you chose to entrust yourself with… Regardless, I don’t want to get any weird ideas about you after the fact.”
He pats your shoulder, and as soon as he escapes you and your alluring perfume, you’re left alone with your own thoughts.
You’re in quite a pickle.
Remaining as a virgin at your grown age has became dull, like a layer you can’t shed off. It’s not that you’re saving yourself for marriage or are necessarily afraid of intimacy… It is instead fate who has funny ways of cockblocking you from gracing some dude’s bed.
You’re desperate to know what sex is like, not to mention, well, you are pent up and horny and agitated with no dick to take the edge off till this day — and your job certainly leaves you stressed out. No boyfriend whatsoever, because how do you handle one, being a Cleaner and living in HQs? It’s too exhausting just at the thought.
It’s not that finding a man to sleep with is difficult — you’re sure there’s many who would have jumped at the opportunity of popping your cherry.
No, you’d have preferred it to be a man you think you can trust, like other Cleaners that would try to protect your life should there be need to. And while maybe the idea of screwing your own teammate doesn’t sound most professional, you assume everyone here has done worse things, even between each other, not exactly always following strict work ethics… As long as you distance yourself emotionally, why would it ruin your relationships? It’s all fun.
With Gris crossed out on the list of candidates, you don’t think there’s really anyone else around to ask. Boss obviously is not an option, you have a bad feeling about Tamsy, Delmon still mourns his deceased wife (and who can take that size anyway…?), Bro Santa feels more paternal to you, August would tell everyone in a feat of excitement, Follo is probably a virgin himself…
Then there’s Enjin. And maybe with him, you could have good time, you’re about ninety-nine percent sure he’s into you, and maybe you do reciprocate that attraction, but it’s just…. no. You’re worried he’d brag about being your first, or even hold it over your head for a while after. Or he would laugh at you for being a virgin despite your age. Besides, hearing about his escapades to town, you don’t want to become just another woman on his to-do-list. He’s your friend you like to drink beer and play games with, not sleep with, unless you want to catch feelings for a man who also happens to not be most open emotionally or capable of handling a woman’s feelings.
Sleep hardly comes to you that night.
“Good mornin’.”
It Enjin’s raspy morning voice that pauses the train of your thoughts, that unfortunately have crossed the side into another day with you. He shuffles into the grayish, slightly worn out communal kitchen of the headquarters, scratching his hip under his long sleeve, all exhausted and with swollen eyelids. The metal chair screeches as he throws himself on it. Yawns. Then coughs up the morning phlegm like an old man, grossing you out.
“Good to who?” you grumble from above the stone counter, fumbling with the dilapidated coffee machine mocking you by providing little cooperation. “Especially when you’re making ruckus at seven in the morning.”
“Huh,” he mumbles to himself, trying to remember if he’s done anything appalling towards you yesterday. It’s difficult to brainstorm with a sleep fog lingering, but he can’t really recall anything too bad in the end... “Your coffee’s brewing, isn’t it? You’ll soon get your caffeine shot,” he says bluntly. “Don’t take it out on me.”
Dangerous move, assuming your emotions are fickle from something as simple as caffeine withdrawal… although he finds you as a bit angry kinda hot. A smidgen of passion never hurt nobody, if only enticed a simple guy like him.
He steals a glance at you right after “insulting” you. The worn out t-shirt you slept in but no bra under is a deadly combination that reveals the outline of your breasts, your shorts are barely peaking under the length of your tee as if you might as well have none on… The intrusive thought comes, as he half a mind considers dropping something just to see you bend down, but he chases it away — you’d probably kill him once you catch up to his scheme anyway, and his murder is not as hot. He burns the image in his head for a later reference instead.
As for you, you don’t say anything in response — you only send him a glare before turning your head around to not let yourself be provoked further. You don’t need more headache. Any other day, you would catch up with him by blabbering about your latest mission and injuries you suffered, complain about your own team, brag about a cool trick with your Jinki — he’d too in return — but nothing hearty is initiated this time.
He’s not deterred by it, standing up and coming closer to you, with the saunter drowsiness brings. Up close, he eyes your face intensely, as if it will give him an answer to your moodiness, as long as he bothers you long enough.
And you hate how observant he can be, quite often at that. Always investigating someone’s personal interests.
He looks ridiculous to you, squinting his bleary eyes. “What?” you bark out, reaching out for your favorite mug you then slam down next to your prepared breakfast, as you can’t handle the suspense he’s creating.
“You’re pissed off about something,” he voices the obvious, like it’s a conspiracy theory.
“Yeah, you,” you mutter, finally pouring your coffee in.
He rolls his eyes and yawns again. “Figures. And besides me?”
You scoff. “Like I’m telling you anything.” He’d probably laugh at you — both for your failure with Gris, and as well the one to be laid for so long. Or even worse — he’d tell you you lacking sex is where your attitude comes for.
“Why not? Come on, don’t you want to give your best buddy Enjin some juicy gossip?” he says with a subtle taunt in his rasp, leaning in closer to you until you feel a bit hotter in your face.
You can’t be that desperate, that just a bit of male attention works on you! Although, with his hair still down in the morning, or his sweatpants hanging low on his hip, it’s reasonable you are be distracted. This is how male birds flaunt their appeal to a female, so you heard somewhere; knowledge on animal species is still being gleaned on the Ground, yet you have a feeling their mating rituals ironically are not so different from the women and men’s one.
“No,” you say eventually, stern, remembering the question still stands. You elbow his stomach to dominate your personal space again.
“Ouch!” he hisses, stepping away from you as if you just burned him. “I’m a victim of violence over an innocent question?”
A bit smugger, you rest your back against the counter. “I don’t need your cigarette breath on me. Who smokes before eating anything?” you mock.
“Fine, have it your way,” he says reluctantly— and dramatically — before leaning against the same surface, almost knocking the cupboards with his head due to his height. Damn him being tall too... The worst men receive the best gifts. “I’ll find out… one way or another anyway.”
“No, you will not!” you say, affronted, and take a loud, aggressive sip. You make an educated guess he’s deliberately inciting your mood to be worse.
“Yes, I will,” he mocks in return, mimicking your appalled tone, then laughs at your unimpressed look. “Okay, I won’t pry, just cause I don’t want your retaliation,” he sighs as if he let go of a good deal, just for you. “But I’ve got a hunch you’ll tell me on your own terms anyway,” is added cockily.
You shake your head, tired of his assertiveness. You’d rather not have a big mouth around him, but Enjin happens to have a talent for opening up people… or sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong in general. You only hope Gris will keep his shut. “Anyway. Are you going to just stand there, or…?”
“Oh, I’m not hungry yet,” he throws nonchalantly. To be expected when he smokes first thing in the morning. Although, he still might be hungry for something else.
“Then why are you even there?” you ask with confusion, wondering if he made his trip here only to annoy you.
“Well…” he drawls, thinking of a quick excuse. Saying he's there to charge his energy for the day by ogling and teasing you isn’t the best clincher. “Coffee.”
“You don’t drink coffee,” you point out bluntly. “Thankfully.”
“Maybe I want to try one made by you,” he musters something beguiling, if not straightup flirtatious, smirking.
“Yeah, right.”
Dammit. You don’t believe him and that sucks for Enjin, because lately, he’s been making many useless routes around you just to “run into you.” One too many of the unexplainable events and you’ll know he’s been following you, as a result of something very pesky to him about himself making him want to see you often — and it’s not just your delicious body.
“Yeah, no, I was just…” he shuffles around the cupboards, pulling out a few snacks. “Getting those for Rudo before others can get their hands on those later. But don't tell anyone.” He winks at you, internally believing he made a smooth exit out of before he could be caught in a lie.
Except, you think you can’t be that stupid. You can tell there’s something up, the unnatural nervous energy about him, even if his explanation is plausible; however, you plan to ignore the conundrum until you’re done with your rejection-woes.
“Huh. Yeah. My mouth's sealed. Anyway. I’ve gotta get ready for a mission, so…” you grab your plate and mug, suddenly feeling exposed in your pajama you were too lazy to change from yet.
“Alright.” He doesn’t tell you what a bummer it is you’re leaving so soon.
“And, Enjin…” you stop two steps after. “Sorry for snapping at you for no reason,” you say reluctantly. Looking back at you snapping at him over your personal affairs, maybe you were too rough on him…
He doesn’t gloat at your admission, nodding once, as if appreciating you taking responsibility. “Good call. Thanks,” he acknowledges calmly.
But when you pass him on your way out the kitchen, right as he’s lighting up another cigarette of this morning, he gives your ass a good look.
And you can feel that gaze.
“I saw that!” you scold from behind your shoulder and move faster to scurry away from him. “I’m taking that apology back, you don’t deserve my kindness!”
“Right, my bad,” he replies unabashedly, “Just don’t forget about the upcoming grouping.”
When you’re gone, he cusses under his breath, letting out an exhale so dense it ricochets across the empty room. You’re entering his head like an uninvited, nagging, and pushy guest far too often. One time even, as he was helping you fix cupboard door with loose bolts, he let it fall on his head instead of holding it properly for you because he got distracted by the sight of your top riding up from your arms reaching high.
“She’s a trouble,” he complains aloud to no one.
Most of the Cleaners tend to spend their free time on their own. It’s really Enjin who organizes any outings between you; drags others along to towns with him if he has to.
Tonight, it’s the kind no kids are not allowed to — his own team stays behind, while it’s you, him, Semiu, Gris, as well other willing adults that tag along.
The air in this club is steamy from the heat dancing bodies create, shoving each other at the brick walls covered in old alcohol advertisements, especially that the capacity of this popular space must have been exceeded a long time ago. Youth gathers here the most, looking for escape from shitty jobs; they occasionally bump into your shared black table that’s as rocky as they are. The tiled floors are sticky, and turned gray inadvertently years ago.
But Enjin finds it particularly difficult to concentrate on having fun for once.
He’s not adjusted to seeing you in anything else than your uniform or clothes to lounge around the base. That shorter dress of yours, tight and off shoulders, in your favorite color, is certainly a conspicuous man lure. It might be dark here — even for a glam scene moderate light is supposed to create — as the old bulbs still wait to be replaced, yet he’d recognize the shape of your body everywhere. Then there’s your makeup, lips plumpened with gloss, and whatever magic Riyo did with your hair for her fun.
To his dismay, this outfit works out for you well. You’ve been gaining attention and traction ever since you walked into the place, and to add fuel to the fire, you’ve been sending mutual looks to some of the men around. He can’t tell if you’ve always been the flirty type and you hid it from him, or is it something about today’s weather.
The place is stuffy, smells like vodka and vomit, which only irritates him further. The air is trash inside, the literal trash air is trashy outside too, when do you even catch a break?
It’s only some guys that give up when they see his glare, Enjin’s bull eyes peaking through his smoke like the red dot of his cigarette, a warning road sign hanging next to you. Givers generally don’t have the best reputation among normies, as they’re seen as materialistic and overly attached to their possessions. But it’s also about their gaze that is oftentimes dull and razor in comparison to other people; it’s the cockier ones that remain dauntless in face of Enjin.
“Someone catching your eye?” Semiu teases you, arm draped over the back of your chair. “You've been eying quite many men lately, I noticed.”
Enjin looks at you both with suspicion — smartly seated across you for a better view. It’s clear you and Semiu know something he doesn’t.
“On a hunt today?” he butts in scornfully, and you don’t like his sudden attitude that’s been throwing you off. He's been killing the mood since you stepped inside. No yapping about his team’s achievements today, that Rudo this, Zanka that and all that jazz.
You tense up defensively — no, seriously, what is his problem? “Something like that. I must have fun once in a while, right? It's the least I deserve for putting my life on the line all the time…” you speak with sarcasm.
“Guess so… though you immediately running after some douchebag kinda beats the purpose of coming to the bar with your friends,” he’s really bitter, brows pinched together. “Just don't ditch us too soon.”
You can’t believe his sudden aggressiveness — who does he think it is to dictate your behavior, out of all people too?
“You’ve got plenty of people to talk to. Other tables with our guys to join. And don’t act as if you wouldn’t be doing the same,” you glare at him. You’ve been sipping on a tawdry cocktail as to prevent yourself from getting wasted and ruining your plan to conquer some guy, but in the end, you might need something stronger to be able to deal with Enjin’s brattiness.
“Touche,” he mutters and takes a cigarette drag a bit viciously. “But the difference between you and me is that I at least organized the fun for everyone.”
“Yet it’s not like I’d have any fun with you when you have a stick up your ass today anyway,” you grumble, entertaining the idea of stabbing him with a tiny drink umbrella in your hand. It’s a grueling labor, avoiding his moodiness to shatter your excitement for tonight.
“Oh yeah?” he mocks and points a dramatic finger at you, like it's some kind of accusation brewing. “You sure gonna have a lot of fun looking like that,” he drops a bomb on you.
He realizes what he said when your mouth falls open and the table turns silent; or rather, he realizes what it sounded like. While he was just a projecting and jealous idiot, he ended up sounding like a chauvinistic pig without meaning to.
“Looking like what?” you and Semiu synchronize angrily, daring him to finish his nasty thought. Gris knocks his ankle under the table, scolding.
Enjin raises his hands (and cigarette) in a placating gesture. “Wait, you got it all wrong, silly,” he laughs off, simultaneously getting rid of his stress the idea of losing your approval brings. “I mean to say: looking gorgeous. But yeah. Who am I to stop you? Go ahead and have your fun.” He shrugs.
“Hmph. Thought so,” you say with head high, eyeing his simple pants and t-shirt up and down. He can't say anything on your spotless look when he barely put any effort into his!
And soon, ironically, and very unfortunately for Enjin, the fun does end up coming to you.
The man who approaches your table is immediately stared down by him, but this one doesn't relent, leaning down to whisper something to your ear that almost makes you giggle. A type of guy to wear a polo shirt with a fit too tight to accentuate the muscles he pumped to catch attention of women and all.
Enjin is forced to watch you being stolen from him in front of his very eyes. You and your pretty dress walking off with that beau, heading to the dance floor.
He doesn’t know who is he more mad at. He for sure now knows he regrets taking you here.
“Why you’re giving her a stink eye all evening? She's looking pretty, she should be getting it all out,” Semiu says dryly, disrupting Enjin’s war of thoughts.
“Not that I care,” he scoffs and crushes his cig butt into the ashtray. That’s the thing about Enjin — he can be quite dramatic, and when he does, he looks absolutely childish. “I’m doing just peachy,” he sighs, trying to not sulk over his loss of your presence.
“Easy now with that attitude,” she teases. “You’ve had a long day of doing absolutely nothing. Must be exhausting!”
Gris has been watching the bickering all this time in contemplation. He has a pretty good idea of what you’re attempting to obtain from these men, and he’s unsure how Enjin would react if he were to know — only that it wouldn’t be a pretty sight. He stays silent about that truth, choosing to distract his friend.
“Hey, Enjin, how about we play pool—”
“No,” Enjin shuts his offer immediately.
He huffs in disbelief. “So you’re going to stare at her like a murderer all night?”
“Not staring. Watching. Look at these guys, they’re just… shady,” Enjin says grumpily. He slumps himself in his chair, crossing his tattooed arms before he turns into a guard dog.
Semiu and Gris send each other exasperated looks. Their colleague is not someone they want to nanny tonight.
“Well, it’s not like she can’t help herself in case she needs to. She’s not defenseless, so why won’t you just mind your business?” Semiu scowls and stands up. She’d much rather find a nice girl to talk to than witness Enjin’s whining all night. “I have to get away from this party pooper,” she mumbles to herself.
“Just making sure nothing bad happens,” Enjin replies nonchalantly, not even looking at her, as he locks into monitoring you, playing with his umbrella.
It's hard to locate you amid the flutter of dancing people and kaleidoscope of colorful lights, but when he does… You’re apparently having a lots, lots, and lots of fun.
When he previously thought of you dancing, he didn't expect it to be… this debauchery. You backed up against a male body, it not even belonging to your previous catch anymore, but to a new one as if you are passing men around, his hands all over your body… as you move to the rhythm of music, grinding together. He’s seen you flirt with men occasionally before, yet it has never quite reached this level.
This is perhaps a price Enjin has to pay for not making moves on you much earlier. It is definitely a nightmare played out in reality to him. How do you cope with multiple men touching the woman you’re into, all transpiring in the momentum of one night? There’s adrenaline coursing through his veins, and it’s a miracle he’s still sitting in that chair. His hand flexes its fingers, and some kind of anxiety lingers in his stomach.
He tries to look away. He really does, remembering Semiu’s smart words. He tries to concentrate his gaze on another appealing woman he’d normally love to chat with. Who is he to stipulate what you do and with whom?
Yet there's this ugly feeling brewing in him, a foreign concept to him, and Enjin is incapable to accept the notion you're into someone else and that you’d dare to let them touch you so easily, unused to this vision. Every heart brutality sent his way is on top of you ignoring his flirts for the past months, like he’s lesser than strangers.
He barely hears Gris trying to talk sense into him, busy watching your dress’s skirt ride up your bare thighs with every sway of your hips he thinks he’d treat better than any of those horny leeches. Then buy you a drink (and maybe some other stuff on different occasions if you smile at him like that enough.) The only positive is that you look absolutely gorgeous while you’re at your ritual.
He didn't feel this envious even the day someone else won a ticket lottery for Too Lily’s concert.
Enjin’s not the one to loose his cool easily, nor is he the one to react with aggression on a regular basis — even during fights. But he might as well go to hell for his transgressions tonight, as this much — you being entertained by some other asshole — he can’t let go of.
He stands up straight, hastily inhaling the leftovers of his drink for a confidence boost.
“And where do you think you’re going, Enjin?” Gris asks sternly, having enough of his infantile games. He’d prefer to stop any fight from escalating out.
“That guy over there with her looks like trouble. Don’t trust him one bit. I’ll keep an eye on her from up close,” he makes an excuse, not caring whether it’s believable or not. In a way, he does find many guys here shady, because… well, he’s a guy himself, surrounded by many other guys, and so knows what his kind can be like. There is some protective urge gnawing at him. “Watch after Umbreaker!”
“Enjin!” Gris calls him from behind but has to give up when he notices his friend has already disappeared into the crowd. Going after him would only create more commotion, so he counts on you putting him in his place and Enjin normally straying from whittling down people. He shakes his head with annoyance and chugs down his beer.
Hopefully no teeth will be smashed into smithereens tonight.
You’ve gotten really invested into the process of suitor chasing, alcohol in your bloodstream aiding you. You’re circling yourself between different men, making assessments of their likeability before you can choose the winner of the night. You’re no longer looking at their face, only judging how good you feel in their arms from behind you. The fact you’re doing this around strangers is as marginal, considering they’re busy with their own affairs.
Your favorite song is playing, the smoke machine is filtering through and adding to the sultry atmosphere, and blinking lights turn you dizzy, going with the rhythm of your body that you have to turn up your workout. Nothing can go wrong when you’re having this much fun.
Eventually, the one you end up with has really handsome hands, that stay steady and rhythmic on your hips. Big, calloused, with a strong grip on your hips. Nice.
You lean back against his toned chest, more comfortably, smelling cigarettes through the crowd of different colognes and perfumes. The mysterious stranger has to be tall too, and as his hands don’t wander around too fast — not out of modesty if he moves skillfully and sensually, awaking your nerves — you think that maybe he might be the one. You don’t need to turn around to see his face to know he’s got a nice body on him, or that he’s especially capable of paying attention to your needs rather than solely grabbing curves for himself.
He’s only awfully quiet, which you absolve him of by assuming he wants you to focus on his touch first and foremost.
Him presumably about to grind against you like those men before, you think the least getting-to-know-him thing to do is to look down at his hands over your hips, feasting on the sight; but when you do, different swirls and lines mix into your blurry vision.
Maybe the lighting here isn’t the best, you’re tipsy too, but a bad feeling starts gnawing at you the more you concentrate on his arms, your mind churning a familiar photographic memory. Dark, intricate patches and lines contrasting the lighter skin, condensed the most across the bottom of his hand and forearm. Black nails, except for the pinky fingers. There’s many people here whose skin is adorned by tattoos, but this is too specific.
“Enjin?” you ask, astonished by your realization.
What. The. Fuck.
You're too scared to whip your head around, refusing to confirm this mindfuck-worthy discovery. Your body is rigid.
The suspect tenses up behind you, although, doesn't stop moving you two, and you almost trip over your own feet, moving along only out of shock — and it’s not as if there’s much space to get away within the first place.
Finally, he allows himself to speak and reveal his identity.
“Yes?”
He has shoved himself between other men in order to retrieve you from them — smarter than fighting, astounding in audacity nevertheless.
“What are you—” words barely leave your mouth, as you’re still dumbfounded. What’s gotten into his rotten mind to decide to do this? He’s never come this close to you before.
“So what if it’s me? You’ve been dancing with many men tonight, I shouldn’t be any different?” he speaks with some irritation lingering in his voice, close to your ear, in result teasing it with shivers.
You can't tell if his he’s shaming you for your indulgence, or is making a counterargument, but it’s difficult to deny his body has been feeling nice on yours. You’ve been thinking about him a lot lately yourself, that now, you haven’t acted with rejection yet.
“None of them are my teammates…” you argue weakly. “You fucker…”
“Hm, fair point, but are they this nice?”
His fingers stroke your hips, rubbing faint circles, before squeezing on them and tugging you closer — and your stomach rushes with butterflies, against your good conscience. Are you this sensitive from alcohol, or is he that good with his hands?
“Enjin…” you murmur shakily, sensing that your defenses are falling apart under just a little of dexterous stroking.
“Yes?” he drawls, leaning down to rest his face in your nape, and his hair grazes your nerves even more.
You feel his heart thrumming against your back. He’s not immune to you either… though that much you could predict from his boner starting a formation poking at your ass. “What prompted this?”
His hands tighten on you, previous anger making its presence for one more moment. “You can’t trust these guys,” he abuses that excuse again.
“And I can trust you?” you’re confused about his hypocrisy, as you are offended by it, finally turning your head to face him. You blow air at the sweaty strand of hair coming across your face, frustrated. Enjin is always so keen on staying secretive about his past; he might as well be another stranger to you.
He doesn’t reply immediately, forgetting anything existent when your eyes lock with his; both pairs buzzing with lustful energy, electrifying.
When he remembers to speak, with him amused by a cute puckering of your lips from indignation, suddenly his anger begins to disperse: if it weren’t for these dudes before, he wouldn’t be there with you, so maybe he ought to be grateful. “That’s for you to judge. However…”
His hands wander up to your waist, slow, as he observes the way your lacquered mouth parts open in response, and he rubs at your side.
“You said you wanna have some fun, didn't you? Don’t think I didn't notice the way you look at me sometimes. Even just this morning, for example…”
The fact he has caught you staring fills you with embarrassment; although, the traces of arousal between your thighs make it harder to care about being exposed.
Two can play that game, apparently. He’s pulled to you, you push, until he pulls you close himself. Repeated daily.
“I…”
“It doesn’t matter. Just focus on me,” he assures lowly.
You shouldn’t be doing that, but you end up relenting to his whims, alcohol and feelings winning over.
You close your eyes, letting your ass roll with his crotch, side to side, until you fall to the rhythm of slutty remix playing. It’s still all new for you to feel a man’s bulge pressing into you. You shiver from the sensitivity it brings, and while you might have not done this before, you can tell he’s packing a nice size in his pants.
As for Enjin, he’s losing his mind, having you this close — his dick has never been more painful in its hardness, your perfume taunts his nose, and it’s a heaven you haven’t pushed him away. The weight of your body against him will ghost him for a while. And then goes that dress again…
Soon, you get lost in him and the music. Your body is all hot, your blood pumping everywhere, and it’s not alcohol — even more so when you hear his sighs near your ear. Your tension is growing quickly, especially when at some moment Enjin bends you over a little…
Too quickly — because he brushes against your panty-clad outline after your dress finally reveals it, bringing a foreign sensation to those regions, and you refuse to make a fool of yourself in front of everyone, when a contact this direct almost allowed for a shameful sound to leave. So much for drunk and horny confidence, when you get scared by a bit of petting and actual grinding, having not anticipated it. With other guys before, you’d leave before anything too serious could develop, not finding them that interesting.
You’re suddenly pushing yourself away from him. But he keeps you close, thinking you’ve simply come up with the maddening idea of being a tease.
“Let me go, Enjin,” there's clear fluster in your voice, as there is some forcefulness behind it to assert yourself decision enough.
You yank again and again and it’s only then when he finally lets you go, worried about making a scene that could cause misunderstanding, as well your reaction.
“What’s gotten into you so suddenly?” he asks with confusion.
You don't answer, quickly making your exit without looking back, on chase to separate yourself from an embarrassing encounter.
“Hey, wait, I'm sorry if I get ahead of myself, but you were—” he tries to summon you back, going after you through the tight corridor of other people you butt into and irritate this way. His heart is pounding, as he wonders if he just ruined any chance with you, even if you clearly were into him here for a sec.
He grabs your wrist only after you escaped the crowd, stopping you short before you could get away further.
“You're seriously going to ignore me after this?” his tone turns grave from the thought at your cowardly audacity.
“It was a mistake,” you say roughly, trying to remove his grip.
To your relief, Enjin lets you go, not wanting you to bruise yourself from the struggle; however, he’s on guard, ready to stop you again in case you think of running without some explanation.
Remaining silent for few seconds, he tries to gauge your feelings. You’re moody, appearing a bit troubled and tired by something, all that excitement from before gone.
“Mistake how? I would have thought it’s because of me, but, uh, you looked oddly shy all of a sudden…” he sounds openly suspicious. Oddly, as coming from someone who was ready to conquer the male cluster tonight.
He’s really too smart for his own good. Words get stuck in your throat, and you have to sit down from the alcohol blues coming in, choosing a spot at the empty booth behind you. You only perch yourself on the edge of the leather red seat, ready to flee the hell away from him should the conversation progress in a wrong direction.
“Well?” he prods further. “You're gonna tell me what’s going on, or does the little escapee feel like avoiding me for the rest of the night?”
You pick on your dry cuticle, shuffling your feet from restlessness too. “That’s… none of your business. I really don't want you laughing at me,” you finally reply, words coming out clumsily.
“And how would you know I'd laugh at you, whatever it is about?” he’s affronted, as if you have no faith in him.
Your face deadpans — it’s obvious.
“Fine, maybe I laugh at others sometimes—” you raise your brow, “half of the time,” he corrects himself dramatically, “but what if I promise I won't laugh at you? I can tell whatever this is, that it matters to you,” he grins like a seller, thinking he’s so nice to you.
“I don’t believe you,” you say outright.
Enjin scowls and ruffles his hair, offended you can’t appreciate his kind offer. “You’re being difficult.”
As if he isn’t just nosy. As if you didn’t hug his boner few minutes ago.
“Whatever,” he acquiesces with a heavy sigh. “Let’s make a deal, so you can stop second-guessing me. If I laugh at you, you’re allowed to ask Gris about one very embarrassing for me moment. Eye for an eye. You can have all the giggling fit shit that you want if I ever laugh at you first.”
When you think about it, that’s rather honorable of Enjin. Nonetheless…
“But why do you even care.” You stand up, approaching him more closely again, as if you’re gearing up to squeeze something honest out of him.
He eyes you warily, while his heart picks up a familiar pace of excitement he can’t accept till this day. As for your question, he thinks you don’t need to know the real reason, nor is he good at vocalizing those type of feelings.
“Well…” he scratches the back of his head and looks around — anything to avoid seeing your cleavage and becoming your fool again — everyone seems to have great fun, except for you two huddling this corner of the club. “I'd much rather know why, than stay thinking I came out as a creep to you. Set things straight between us...”
As well know your secrets goes unsaid. It’s some weird type of responsibility sense, watching after other’s troubles. He’s taking on that role with his “kids” all the time, for example. But above all, with you, he needs to know it all with even more urgency.
For you, you suppose that’s fair — not wanting any loose ends. You have to reap what you sow because you didn’t stop the dance on the spot and now you owe him an explanation for the sudden rejection.
Being mature enough by communicating is so much trouble if you’re not even able to at least reward yourself by bringing any man to some motel with you.
“If we must have this conversation, let’s have it tomorrow when we have sobered up. I’m suddenly feeling exhausted,” you say listlessly.
He lights up a bit, as weird as it is to you. “So it’s a deal?”
You hold him in suspense, staring at him with some type of theatrical disdain. “Yeah, it’s a deal.”
You spit at your palms before connecting them for a handshake.
When the next day arrives, you think you don’t remember the last time you were this nervous; not even the usual missions have you this apprehensive like one conversation to have does.
Telling Gris about your sex life, or lack thereof, was quite easy in comparison to telling Enjin, as you find the first rather comforting when he’s not exercising his inhumane strength on trash beats.
Resided in your room and warming your bed for the sake of stability the familiar space brings, your nerves are still wracked when your space is being disturbed by the possible end of your reputation breathing down your neck.
Meanwhile, Enjin has been forced to sit on a tiny stool of your vanity table, as if going through some punishment, picking up every of your possessions he has no clue what they’re for.
However, it’s a tiny discomfort to the reveal you make soon.
“You’re a what?”
His jaw is hanging low in shock, and your powder brush falls on the wooden surface. He could feel it's something big in his bones, but you still being a virgin, that’s unprecedented to the idea of you he has had in his head all this time. He’s known you for quite a while, and yet, somehow something so significant has slipped his way.
You anticipate his laughter, or at least a snicker to make it in character. You’re pretty sure if it was anyone else confessing, he'd be laughing in a robust way you old virgin, before eventually choosing to give some backhanded yet useful and life-changing advice and assurance. But nothing comes to violate your ears.
He himself has no idea what to do with this confession.
“Don’t make me say it again,” you mumble, picking at the threads of your blanket. It’s the worst moment, anticipating what kind of opinion he’ll express.
“But…” he trails off as he stands up, not knowing what to do with himself either. He takes a few steps back and forth across your limited space floor before looking at you with confusion, trying to crack the code like a man who was suddenly deprived of any brain cells.
Math isn’t mathing here. He literally remembers — vividly at that — what you were doing last night.
Unless… it was a ploy to find your first guy. Just a one rather bold and straightforward.
“How is that possible?” he exclaims with frustration, his hands on the hips. “I mean… it’s not that you’re bad-looking,” he gulps at the thought of you when you— “Besides, some men will get their hands on everything. How come you are still one?”
“It was more of my decision…” you admit awkwardly. You’re a tiny bit relieved he’s not turning his lung upside down from laughing at you, although you were not prepared to be bombarded with questions.
“So you’re a prude?” he asks bluntly, sitting down again.
You forgot that lack of laughter still doesn't contradict the existence of foul mouth.
You shut your eyes, exhale deeply as to not let yourself be provoked, and open them with scornfulness etched over your face. “Not necessarily,” you say in a brusque tone.
He weighs your answer, wondering how much he can get away with fooling around before you’d turn too defensive and kick him out; you’ve got to have your blood boiling from embarrassment already, that's why he takes on a route of being a better listener.
“Then what is it?” He sits down again. Resting his elbows on his knees, he leans forward.
He's overly curious to your liking. You could have just finished the conversation here, as soon as you gave him the evidence it wasn’t him but your fears that you underestimated that had you running away last night. However, you’d rather shut this chapter close. And maybe, just maybe, you want him to know. The worst part of this avowal is behind you, right?
“Well… you know how it is,” you start, speaking with more evenness. “Growing up as a Cleaner, I never had a chance to settle down with anyone. And while men in the nearest settlements exist, I was too invested in fighting to even bother with finding anyone… not to mention, I didn’t want it to be a bad experience...”
Well, those arguments personally have never stopped Enjin from pursuing other people — what else can you do between the missions and not go crazy? Nonetheless, yours are still sound. Everything makes more sense now — flaunting yourself to these guys yesterday was about finding one to lose your virginity to.
“Until now,” he finishes the conclusion for you with a hum of annotation, “So you’re finally tired of waiting?”
You nod. Suddenly, your body feels much lighter, cathartic after making all that admission. Now you can move on, and—
“Does that mean I ruined your hunt?” he cups his chin in thought, as he tries to not sound satisfied. That idea shouldn't make him so happy.
Forget it. You grow irked again, your eyelid twitching as you’re brought to remember the failure Enjin enforced on you. “You did, now when I look back at yesterday,” you huff out with anger, crossing your legs and resting your face against your hand in sulk. “Why did you get in my way anyway again?!”
You throw a pillow at him he catches anyway.
Upon your question, he looks to the side to be avoidant, he himself turning fairly grumpy. It’s not as if he could admit he felt unreasonably jealous. “Told you these guys seemed shady.” Same old excuses.
“And I’m not a child. I can take care of myself,” you declare sternly.
“You were also drunk,” he points out stubbornly.
“Not the first time, not the last time. And even if you were to be right, you couldn’t simply pull me away from them?”
You suddenly recall the way he danced with you. It makes your body throb with heat, you have to adjust your position. Wrangling with him is getting tiring, but there’s also something very hot about it, the chemistry you can’t deny.
Then it finally hits you, and you feel so dumb for not realizing that earlier. It’s just that you never imagined Enjin to be the type, and that theory escaped your mind when you were busy stressing out about what you did with him.
“Wait… Were you jealous or something?”
That’s got to be it. The only plausible explanation for him being overprotective out of the blue.
His eyes widen and a lump gets stuck in his throat. “Fuck no,” he replies viscerally, sitting up straight as if he was burned. His thoughts are racing, as you battle each other with eye contact meanwhile. Your steel gaze covers him with cold sweat, and his mouth opens up to form a curse that never leaves from how speechless you’ve rendered him. Accusation like this shouldn't be giving him plethora of heart jumpscares, he shouldn't be so defensive, but you’ve been having funny ways of messing with his brain inadvertently.
In conclusion, you knowing the truth about the extent of his possessiveness would be his pride taking a hit.
“I’m not,” he puts the pressure on his words.
At this point, he’s dragging on the inevitable.
You frown, standing up. “Then what would even be your problem, huh? And no, I don’t believe you for a second it’s about being protective.”
“Tsk. Don’t act like our attraction isn't mutual,” he mutters quietly.
“What was that?”
“I’m telling you, I’m not jealous!” he leans forward and ruffles his hair out of frustration. This is really hitting his ego. His heart. Whatever that is making him so susceptible to you.
You realize the tiny power that gives you. It’s not often you see him like this, stumbling over his words, a telltale of some sort of vulnerability.
You turn this discovery into teasing him, getting back at him spoiling your fun, as you inch closer. “You were jealous, yes, you were!”
He admires you in secret, for your wrong and right, but your jokester move is too much at the moment. Enjin grits his teeth, raising his head up to look at you with almost a plea to stop. Let him have this one. “Stop, I don't know even know what’s jealousy—”
But you’re relentless, smirking as if you won. “It’s okay to admit that you are. Maybe I’ll make it better for you after.”
Until he can’t take it anymore.
He makes a space for you between his legs, then is drawing you close by your waist before tugging down on your hair so your lips can meet his.
He was indeed jealous.
He’s kissing you. He’s actually kissing you. To shut you up, although, if you desperately seek your truth, this is the only way he’ll let you on the window of his heart.
You stand frozen in stupor at first, while his mouth is moving already. Your rationality tells you to push him away, to not make things even more complicated between each other; your body says fuck you. You dig your palms into his thighs and kiss him back with twice fervor, pulling out a gasp from him.
At least this one is something you have experience in.
Your own emotions erupt, catalyzed by the shocking gesture. All that tension that's been hanging over you like a cloud that could never rain until a thunder struck it; your dissatisfaction with him; your attraction for him.
You bite at his lip with anger that he groans, and he pulls on your hair harder, deepening the kiss. His other hand wanders up to your face, tilting your face so he can lick across your lips before pushing tongue in.
You moan at the sensation enhanced by keeping your eyes closed, rolling your tongue with his. Tasting tobacco, smelling tobacco shooting straight through his cologne, experiencing his strong grip on you, you feel yourself getting heated up. There’s nothing on your mind other than him, your hate too, and if someone were to interrupt you two now, you’d probably want to kill them.
Enjin shares your sentiment especially, humming, as he’s having the time of his life. Both of your chests are going at the crazy rate. He’d rather regret some things later than now let you go. Maybe he would never gather enough confidence in any other circumstances, so if it’s possibly his only kiss with you, so be it.
You eventually end up on his lap, drawn down by him, as his hands begin a tantalizing route over your body. Then they go down to your hips and ass that he squeezes handsomely until you whimper, and now it’s you tugging on his hair, his Choker, and brushing his chest with an angry growl, until you both start a game of trying to one up another.
Your results are messy, with teeth clinking, but you can’t stay away as if every brush of lips is not hard enough.
It’s only when your oxygen is sparse that you forcefully pull away from Enjin who would gladly go longer, even at the expense of his breath.
You take a step back and stumble on your feet, breathless and dazed, as you fix your hair. You stare at each other: Enjin’s honey eyes are hooded with desire, while yours are no better. There's even some flush decorating his face.
You plop yourself back on your bed, slowly coming back to reality. “What… what was that…” you ask quietly, trying to shake yourself awake. Your heart goes for your throat, and your nerves are still pretty much awake, as if awaiting more touch.
“You wouldn’t have shut up otherwise,” he scoffs, although his features have softened. It’s not affection, it’s not tiredness, it’s some you-torment taking over he capitulates to.
You linger in silence, none of you winding up to comment on what happened.
You think you should kick him out at this point. You really should. You can’t start something that has no guarantee or even steady foundation. You should be mad he’s meddling with your sex life too. However…
He can tell what kind of troubled thoughts you’re experiencing, and since he’s not done getting to the bottom of your virgin issue, he decides to overstay his welcome.
“… Soooo,” he clears his thought, changing the subject for the sake of you two, as if the kiss didn't happen.
You think that’s maybe for the better, even if a switch up leaves a bitter taste in your mouth — on top of you still feeling him on you. “What is it?” you mutter.
“Do you plan on going back there again?”
“I guess so,” you say nearly bitterly, your mood turning sour after an awkward confrontation. As if he’s messing with you and you’re letting him. Playing push and pull. “Unfortunately, I have exhausted my other safe options?”
“What other options?” he narrows his eyes, jealousy striking again.
Uh oh. You implied that without thinking. “Well… I might have asked… Gris… to help me. He refused,” you say hesitantly, anticipating the worst reaction.
Enjin’s jaw drops for the second time today. He thinks that’s even worse. You fucking his own friend. It’s personal as hell. He clenches his jaw, glaring at you. Seriously, it's betrayal after betrayal.
“Let me get this straight. So you thought of asking my own friend you’re not even that into. Yet you didn’t think of asking me?!” he almost yells, all dramatic.
That’s his problem?
“I mean—” you stutter, not wanting to give him the real reason as to why he was excluded in case he becomes even more offended, even if you’re right to worry he might take you for granted. “Well, would you even do it?” You smooth out your covers, not wanting to look at Enjin.
“No way,” he snickers. He wants you — badly — yet, he doesn’t want the consequences of getting that close with you. Regardless of whether he’s offended you didn’t include him in or not.
Which also makes him a huge hypocrite because how do you refuse to sleep with a woman but also not want her to sleep with other men?
You glance at him, raising your brow. “Why not? Don’t you find me attractive?” now it's you being nosy. And maybe a bit offended yourself.
Seriously. What type of question it is. Of course he does. Just the imagination of having you, taking your virginity especially, as he teaches you to take him and subsequently ruins you for others, makes him insanely hard at the thought.
“Don’t let me make yourself question your looks, silly.” Even he wouldn’t go that far. “I simply don't want to look weirdly at you after the fact,” he says bluntly and stretches his arms above his head, tired of sitting in that tiny chair.
“How so?” you're confused, considering the previous events.
“Well… we work together, don’t we? Don’t wanna start being distracted mid job because I remembered.”
“Yet you danced with me. And now you kissed me?” you point out with exasperation. Your hands flail while you gesticulate, as if you were painting that image.
“Yeah… low effort, low risk. We’d probably not remember it a day after. As for the kiss… well… consider it blowing some steam off,” he says dismissively, hiding behind nonchalance.
That's just cold. You’d wince if you didn’t know he’s playing down the kiss, for some complex reason. He’s been more easy to read lately, whether he realizes that or not. You’re only being disrespected by that.
“It’s not like I would ask you anyway... I guess I’m back to bothering some guy in town. You can leave now,” you say, exhausted by that back and forth.
“… What?” he splutters from disbelief.
He forgot that just because he ruined your plans to lose virginity last night, doesn't entail you have given up on them entirely.
Enjin wants to believe the sudden distraught misplacement he experiences is coming from the raw need to protect you — against men willing to prey on your inexperience only — but he’d be lying if he said he didn't hate the thought of another man touching you just as much.
He used to think you're no virgin, yet finding out he could theoretically be your first, he is now aware of what is there to be taken granted for or never gain another chance for. Or what is out there for you to be hurt in a way different than coming from a nonhuman monster.
There’s many things and people to lose on the Ground in general, in this forsaken trash land, and so he’d like to keep you close to him. For some reason.
“You said you wanted a good experience,” his voice cracks from the slight panic. It’s so comical, you want to laugh a little.
You shrug your shoulders. “I also want to get done with it. I don't expect sparks.”
“No, no, listen—” he hesitates when you lower your brows over your eyes in suspicion. “I… I didn't know it’s that important to you. I can do it.” Those words leave his mouth instinctively. He almost regrets them when he catches up with reality, but he’s set in stone about being your first.
You look at him with surprise, taken aback about his sudden change of mind.
He immediately makes an excuse, logical. “You can’t trust those guys, strangers, yeah? Too rough, not clean enough, boring — and you’ll remember that for a while, if not forever. You don't want to let them hurt you either.” He leans back against your vanity more confidently, trying to sell you that opinion.
You know he’s not wrong about anything that can go wrong; it’s really the matter of sleeping with Enjin out of all people that boggles your mind.
While you like to believe you know better and can at least put effort into finding a right man to hook up with, a guy you’re into and you know suddenly feels safer after his suggestions and persuasions… after the kiss and the dance that both still have you with heads in the clouds also. He at least has proven he's good at those things.
You both must be insane to be entertaining that, but you have been dead set on losing your virginity for a while now. It’s a matter of getting over it, so you can know it’s like, as well start your sex adventure.
You stand up, crossing your arms. “Are you sure? Because I don’t want you chickening out in the middle because you changed your mind, wasting my time,” you're adamant about him being serious with you. No games for once.
“Yes…” he responds shakily, quite in disbelief you’re actually permitting that heaven for him. “As clear as day.” He stands up too.
“Alright then… but we’re doing this based on my rules. And we're still just friends after, right?”
The place you and Enjin end up settling on is his room. Or rather, you insisted that it’s his, refusing to associate the upcoming memories with your own room. You meet him close to midnight next Friday, knowing most people around will be busy in the common hall or out, reducing the likelihood of someone finding out what the duo of you is up to.
You’ve been here in the past, although back then it was only for an inquiry about something. You thought 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 noticed some porn magazine you’d tease him about, and then the wallpaper peeling off at some corners. He also needed to clean nasty dust from his dark furniture. The hefty smoke produced repeatedly had jaundiced some things yellow — transparent curtains especially. Under the terrible light of Enjin’s rusting desk lamp barely scratching the gloaming atmosphere, Too Lily’s poster was beamed at. It was only his precious Vital Instrument that received a reverent spot on a special hook specifically mount for it on the wall.
As for today, everything seems clean. The metal bed has fresh black sheets, the floors are swiped, distracting items other than the picture of his team are hidden, and his blond hair is seemingly still damp from showering. Enjin put in some effort into making sure you’re comfortable, or that he doesn’t embarrasses himself.
And coming inside his bedroom, Enjin didn’t immediately push you on bed or whatever you might have imagined about this setup with him. He was only back to his cocky self, eager to impress you.
He’s currently taking it slowly with you, getting you into mood, as well working against your nervous tension. His experience coming in handy.
“Feel me first.”
“H-huh?”
Enjin’s crotch is flush with your ass, taunting you with his bulge. It’s too much already for your untouched body, and your head spins at the friction. It’s like it was back at the club, except you’re now fully sober, taut as a bowstring; not to mention, you barely lasted waiting those few days of awaiting to see him (he was doing no better.)
“See what’s it like. Small steps. Get used to feeling me,” his teasing is tinged with tiny breathlessness on his own.
“I don’t need you to coddle me—”
He presses his hips closer in response, having you whimper. “Not coddling. It’s called foreplay, you stubborn woman,” he chides lowly. “Unless you want it painful.”
“I know what that is!” you exclaim. But when his hands get all over your torso, groping every curve and plush through your clothes, you start craving more of that foreplay. “I’m a virgin, but I’m not clueless…”
“Don’t complain,” he feigns a tut. “I’m being nice to you, you overthinker.”
He cups your breasts, fondling them through your tee — you dressed simply to not be conspicuous to others you pass on your way to this room, but (un)fortunately forgot to put on a bra after showering due to your stress having you all over the place, giving him this advantage by an accident. He is indulging himself with your chest already, like straight out of his wet dreams.
“And I know it feels good. Aren’t I so caring, taking it slow with you?” he taunts additionally.
You give him payback, pushing your hips harder at him that he grunts, even if it drives you mad as well.
“You can’t just—”
“Then don't provoke me, asshole,” you bite.
He snorts, a bit charmed by your spirit. “Even now, you have a spunk in you…
So do I.”
His hands slip under your shirt, roaming across your front. You get goosebumps immediately, your body absorbing a new touch on your skin.
Enjin groans at the weight of your breasts; your nipples are hardened already, forming nicely between his fingers. His cock twitches against your ass.
You're chewing on your lip, biting down any louder noises out of need to preserve your image; though, you can feel aches growing between your legs.
“All nice and sweet… how dare you keep this body covered for so long, huh?” his voice is a never ending reminder of his presence all over you, drawled and intimate.
“S-shut up…” you stammer, getting shamelessly hot amid the fluster his words bring. He’s so damn talkative, uttering things with every fiber of his being.
“I could shut up… but then how else I’ll keep you on your toes? I’m building up the tension,” his hands never stop fondling and you inhale sharply when he tweaks your bud.
You lean more against his chest, glad that you can’t see him just yet, needing something to hold onto. “Can’t you just fuck me already? I can take it…” you whine.
“Trust me, you can’t. Not yet.”
That claim only adds to your anxiety, as well the excitement, heat building up in your belly. Some guys overestimate their size, but you can literally feel that he’s not lying, his bulge growing with every of your noises.
Enjin kisses at your nape, above your Choker, while his hands keep playing with your chest, mostly squeezing gently.
It's all nice. Fuzzy. His hair tickles your skin, his lips spread warmth everywhere, and then he’s rubbing your nipples again.
“E-enjin…” you say shakily. No longer able to maintain composure, a moan slips out of your lips.
His name fallen from your lips is a sinful dessert, and he wonders just how many repetitions he can pull from you. Something tells him you can take more, as you fit in his arms and are succumbing to their magic rather quickly. Perhaps your yesterday affair was a testimony that you are that desperate.
“Shh. I've got you,” is pressed into your neck with another wet kiss, his lower lip dragging it.
Eventually, not many sounds can be kept inside your mouth barrier. They sound better than they did inside his head during imagination hours. There’s plenty of fish in the sea, but he wants a siren like you.
It’s really hard for him to keep his ministrations strictly about you; to abstain from taking more immediate action.
“Ah, whatever, come here.”
He guides you onto his bed, pushing you down so your back lands on it.
You feel more vulnerable than you did before, lying with your chest heaving in anticipation.
He’s soon crawling to be above you, his hair framing his forehead — he didn’t bother to style his hair after washing, capable of looking even more handsome this way.
Your breath hitches when he moves between your legs and presses his hardness into your clothed cunt.
“You’re still doing fine?” he asks intensely, as he allows himself to take in you spread underneath him.
“Yeah…” you nod. Everything is a lot as ever, but you are not ready to give up on making this milestone.
“Good. Arms up.”
When you comply, your shirt is taken off, ensuring your chest is exposed and his for the taking. His goes off too, Enjin feeling hot and needing to feel your skin on his through no barrier. His tattoos come into your vision fully, as your mouth waters at his torso; their unique design form a question too, but you leave that for another time.
One hungry look is served at the sight of your tits and hips — ingraining his belief he’s never been more obsessed with a woman before. Then, without a word, his mouth is all over your neckline, as his hand caresses your waist. Enjin doesn’t bother to explain this process to you when he rolls his hips forward to grind into you, though proper words are knocked out of your mouth too.
His greedy kisses are wet and messy, you find yourself tilting your head for him when he launches an attack on your neck. “Enjin…” you call out quietly with a whimper.
“Mhm. Keep saying my name. It sounds nice when you’re not pissed at me once in a while…” he says with a low murmur, a few words every kiss.
He sucks on your skin around your Choker before lying down a tiny bite, as if to judge just how sensitive you are. He just can’t get enough of you once you let him on top of you, trailing saliva all over you, with his brain forming a disarray of emotions about how much your presence in his life constantly pushes him to be a man reduced to the one resting at your feet.
You yank his forearm from a surprise, feeling him hit a neuralgic spot.
“Gonna make you feel so good… just you wait…” he purrs into your throat, his cock throbbing at the throat of making you cry for him.
His mouth goes lower, giving your breasts proper attention. Grazing his teeth across the top of them before soothing your nerves with a quick kiss.
You can tell you’re getting nasty wet underneath your bottoms, your clit pulsing when he occasionally puts more pressure with his groin there. You're dizzy, overwhelmed from him targeting your body from both sides.
“S-slow down…” you mumble weakly, even if your hand goes to the back of his head to keep him close.
He makes a quiet growling protest, looking up at you from underneath his lashes. “No,” he licks at your nipple, watching you wriggle in reaction, “Don’t act like you don't need me.”
Because he for sure needs you.
Before you could tell him you would never need a man like him, he’s already shutting it down with a suck on your bud. Meanwhile, his hands holds your hips down, using them as a leverage to slowly keep thrusting forward.
You're losing your mind, digging your fingers into his nape. While your anxiety surrounding your first time still rules your mind, you start fantasizing about being fucked by him, spilling tiny moans from the stimulation he’s providing, as your body arches from the pressure of his mouth a little.
Enjin alternates between both sides, groaning every few from the friction on his clothed dick miserably trapped in his pants. He himself wonders just how much he can even afford, being with a woman he’s been dreaming about for months like a sore loser. Just your tits in his face is his undoing.
Tiny beads of tears gather across your lash line, and that motivates him to go further.
“You’re crying already?” he teases, though his eyes soften the tiniest bit from the way your lips tremble, proving you’re untouched.
“I’m not crying… I’m just sensitive…” you say petulantly, shyness tightening your chest.
“Right. It’s still a long way ahead for me to really mess with you,” he grins a little, adding to your fluster.
Just what exactly will he do with you?
He’s soon kissing down your stomach, coming dangerously low towards your abdomen, his hand playing and slightly slapping at the band of your pants as some kind of forewarning.
Your muscles tense up underneath his mouth and messy hair, skin prickling with tingles, as you circulate your breathing with ragged pace increasing itself. Your legs clench around his sides.
He’s growing brisk in his movements, needing to get into your pants asap. He’s about to see the pussy he’s been thinking of, imagining how you’d squeeze him when fisting his cock. Not to mention the few bonds destroyed because he thought of you when fucking another woman.
You can’t even care you’re exposed to your fricking coworker and a friend anymore; every kiss is one more to the excitement and nervousness of what he might do next.
And he doesn't plan on making it easy. Biding his time, counting his blessings to ensure he’s taken every part of you for his mind to rage about later. If you weren’t inexperienced, he’d love to keep you here all night.
“You’re gonna let me eat that pussy, yeah?” It’s not a question, if only the only right outcome for him, spoken deeply. Enjin looks up at you intensely, expectantly.
“You don't have to…” you trail off.
Him fucking you is one thing, him shoving his face into your loins is another, demanding more closeness… In hindsight, you expected a bit of stretching before being filled, in almost unceremonious fashion, sufficient enough to step away from the virgin title; Enjin seems keen on making your first impression much better. Whether it’s care, his kink, or perfectionism.
“But I want to. Be grateful for full service. It doesn't come cheap,” he teases, all arrogant. He could say it's just to get you more ready, but munchies also come to him in different forms.
Your pants are therefore stolen from you, slid down carefully down your trembling legs.
Enjin doesn't immediately get you buck naked, staring at you with a starving gaze, as he sits on his knees for a second. Irresistible is little to call you, for lack of a better word.
“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” he asks lowly, tugging at the apex of your thigh and hip while his finger hooks itself around your panties. If you weren’t a nervous wreck, he’d just bruise your body by fondling it for hours, inspecting every part as enough material to be a content man.
You wriggle your hips, restless under his scrutiny, and he bites his lip with appreciation. Reality truly is much better than daydreamed visions.
“You better don’t hide anything from me tonight, you hear me?” is what he highlights before your panties are made to fly across the room, leaving you with nothing and all vulnerable.
“Just be quick with it…” you demand shakily, your tone anticipatory. It’s odd to let him see this part of your body.
But his mouth slacks at the sight of your untouched cunt, glistening from your wetness. He spreads your folds apart, imagining his cock between those, and you jolt at the foreign touch. “Would you look at that…” he mocks, embarrassing you. “I’m glad at least she’s been agreeing with me.”
“Why won’t you just—” you try to make him shut up, unused to hearing those things, but he's already lying down and spreading your legs to be between them. It happens so fast, you worry if you can even handle his enthusiasm.
He blows hot air onto your pussy, interrupting your talk that tries to arise again. “Yeah?” He rolls your clit with his thumb, up and down, eliciting more for him to eat from; your legs try to clamp on him immediately, taken aback by sudden force of tiny pleasure.
“E-Enjin…!”
“Uh huh. You weren’t lying…” he remarks — too cheerfully at your body state’s confirmation.
The fact he’s about to your first is really something difficult to not be smug about when he’s been eying you for months, and while he’s aware it’s a mean move to brag about that as if that’s all that matters, he believes it’s more elaborate than using you — especially that he strives to make you feel good.
It took him long enough to make a real move on you, after he almost lost you to some dude that who knows if he wouldn’t become your boyfriend after. So he wastes no time gluing his mouth to your slit, manhandling your thighs in effort of keeping his source open. He’s rolling around your clit with the tip of his tongue, licking a stripe upward, before slurping begins. His nose knocks at you as he goes down.
You tug on his hay blond strands with a moan, finding the sensation of his tongue lapping at everything your body produces with no gradual takeoff out of this world — as much as a new experience in this place is weird to come touch with. You wonder if he's been thinking about doing this to you before, for him to have no qualms about making you crazy from his mouth. Maybe he imagines the way he’d do it, only for all plans go to ruin because his only goal is to be voracious.
“So good…” he groans between the smacks of his lips, getting his face wet as he messily spreads ecstasy everywhere across your pussy. “You're gonna have to let me do this more often, hm?”
It feels good for you to, especially when his tongue gives your bud more attention or shallow dives inside, stretching you gently before something else will.
You’re quickly getting greedy, trying to hump his face, moaning higher and higher.
To your delight, he doesn’t stop you, only growing harder at the sight of your enjoyment and you taking what you need. The slight ache on his scalp makes him grind into the mattress, as he leaks pre-cum sopping his boxers.
If he ever decides to be boring and stop smoking, he suspects this is how he’s gonna deal with the mouth tics.
“Enjin… I’m…” you heave, whining from what he’s doing to you, suffocating his sides with your legs too.
“Mhm. That’s right. Make a mess on me. Show me what you crave,” he says hastily into you, spreading vibrations down your legs.
A tension is building up in your hips, needing desperately to be released. Your hole twitches, still waiting to be filled, as your clit throbs madly, pent up and about to snap. The temperature of your body feels as if doubled, sending more shivers into your system.
“Pleasepleasepleasegiveittome—” you sob as you finish, almost ripping his hair off, your feet kicking up.
Even after, Enjin, satisfied by your body indulged, doesn’t stop going, licking you clean. You have to forcefully pull him away.
He gasps, inhaling air as if he just ran marathon, stuck in a pussy-drunk state. All dazed by you staring back at him with teary and heated eyes, he has to shake himself off to remember his ongoing objective.
“Yeah, you’re fine, you’re fine. Come here, pretty girl.”
He maneuvers you to rest against his chest, between his legs, as he props himself against a pillow. You let him handle you, still coming down type of dumb. “Why are you holding me like that?” you gulp, overwhelmed by the warmth and sturdiness against your back.
“You’re asking a lot of questions for an amateur today. Stop stressing out, silly…” he says lazily, brushing the inside of your thigh.
It’s not like he can tell you he wants you close, for some reason.
You exhale irregularly, titling your head towards his shoulder for more steadiness. “But I want to know.”
“Let’s just say it’s more comfortable this way.”
He looks to the side at you, watching you chewing on your lip as you observe his hand getting closer and closer to your wet heat again. You’re no longer as nervous, too lustful to care about complications.
“You’re going to do something or not?” You’re growing impatient, needing yourself one step closer to him fucking you even if you just came.
He finally taps his fingers at your slit, as if scolding you for your hastiness. “You’ve gotta trust the process,” he murmurs into your ear, circling around your hole without pushing in yet. “No attitude.”
His index and middle finger prod at your mouth. “Get them extra wet.”
With a bit of hesitation, you suck on his digits, trying to coat them in much as saliva as possible. To him, the sight stirs his guts, another thing to remember for a while — your glazed over eyes, your mouth working hard on his hand as if it was his cock instead. He imagined you sucking him off many times.
When he finally pushes in one finger into your tight hole, his arms embracing you from the front, even just that feels plenty. Because one is thick and long, pulling apart at your virgin walls, and when his fingertip curls inside your hole, it grazes something good too.
You huff out air, as he slowly thrusts it in and out, slowly building up the depth to the bottom line tattoo on his finger. You’re still wet from previous affair, so the combo of that and saliva has him gliding in enough to push another in soon.
“So much complaining before but look at ya… sucking in my fingers in like your body can't get enough…” he says unabashedly.
You’re almost scared from how easily this type of talk comes to him. But when he speeds up his actions, it’s not like you can give a damn about anything other than the friction and stretch turning your insides even warmer so nicely, sting or not.
“Ugh… it feels so weird…”
“You’ll get used to it.”
You jerk your hips along his movements, and soon, he starts hitting your clit with the ball of his hand.
His other hand cups your chin and turns your head to the side for a kiss. Any distraction from his balls almost turning blue from no attention just yet proves useful as he still pulses against your ass. The kiss is clumsy both from his and your fault, accompanied by hums and greed exchanged.
Enjin pulls out his fingers somewhere half into your another orgasm, concerned you might get too sensitive before he can even make you cream on his cock; he doubts a third finger would fit in anyway. Though your sultry whine almost has him giving in.
“Alright. Time for a real fun.”
Those words are a trigger for your heart to start pounding. You’re also made to ache terribly as he licks his fingers clean, staring you dead in the eye.
He pushes you onto your back again, but before he could get on top of you, he decides to make an offer first.
There's a good reason for why he kept his pants on the entire time — otherwise, you’d have been stressing out about his size, trying to flee before you could even be split apart.
“Wanna take a good look at it first?”
You bit your lip and nod, inviting him to lie down next to you. You already have a vague idea of what it’s like, however…
You’re screwed is what you realize when he pulls his sweatpants and boxers down and his cock springs free against his abdomen, beige tip turned almost red and leaking. Big is a connotation for scary, especially when it’s meant to be weaponized for the first time, and you think you made a worst gamble choosing Enjin out of all people.
And yet… you really want to challenge yourself to take it. Why not go all out if you’re finally getting this stuff done? Make this really remarkable.
“I wanna touch you too,” you demand.
“Yeah?” his eyes light up. It’s rather hot you’re eager to please him too; not that it’s not a daily wish for him anyway.
“Yes,” you admit, squeezing your thighs at the thought. It might be your first time, but after how long you were deprived of good fuck, you don’t want anything taken for granted. Not to mention, you’re obsessed with the idea of controlling Enjin’s reactions, knowing at least a quarter of your effect on him. “Just tell me what to do,” you give him a look under your lashes, your hand coming across his happy trail.
He sighs with a tremor, laughing self deprecatingly at how foolish you’re getting him. He quickly removes his clothes, throwing them on the floor. “Spit on it first. Add some glide.”
You do as he said, letting a globe of saliva fall on top of his head. Enjin shivers as it hits his weakest spot. Then even more as your fingers tentatively envelop him, before they start to spread your spit across his length.
He’s hot and heavy in your hand, and you carefully watch for his reaction, while getting used to handling a man.
He moans quietly, looking at you with tiny desperation, and this micropower you carry over him has you even hornier.
You’re stroking him while looking him in the eye, a bit faster than before, your thumb playing with his sensitive tip that only makes him more squirmy. There’s his palm eventually having to hold onto your waist.
It’s almost funny to you, that even clumsy work like yours can rattle him this much; although, it motivates you to do even better, as if you have discovered your favorite new hobby.
Though, when you tug on his skin a little too hard, his hand falls over yours. “Easy there. It’s not going anywhere…” he chuckles.
“Sorry…” you wet your lips, not that sorry.
His hand doesn’t let go of yours. Enjin moves it so you know the right pace — way too close to one he picks when thinking about you — his own flexing from the pleasure you’re giving him.
He’s also way too close in general, thanks to you. Which is crazy, considering he’s usually more durable — as if he’s that addicted to you.
“E-enough. Don’t forget what you’re here for.” He doesn’t want to bust a nut before he's even inside of you.
Eventually, he pulls you away, slowly sitting up. He’s looking for something on his bedside table, while you give yourself prep talk inside.
“Will it hurt?” you ask the most dreaded question.
“Despite what they might be telling ya, it’s not supposed to hurt if done right. Uncomfortable at most. And I plan to do a good job with you…” he throws over his shoulder.
Something about the way he says his last words has you feeling restless. Like he’s implying you really are in for a lot.
You finally get to see what he’s been looking for.
“Are these necessary?” you’re somehow feeling annoyed.
“Huh? You’ll get knocked up,” he points out brusquely, as if he can't believe you’d not know at least that much.
“Enjin, I’m not stupid,” you deadpan. “I’m on a pill. Got ready ahead… just in case.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. I… unless you care, I wanna feel it all clearly… no barriers,” you explain with your cheeks turning hot.
Enjin gulps, his Adam’s apple moving, and wipes his face. He's got to he too lucky. You, him, pussy raw as his kryptonite… it’s too good to be true, and he’s already been granted a lot.
“So?” you bring up again.
The box he prepared is thrown back to its place. He’s climbing up the space above you with more vigor, not going to waste such offer. “Do you ask a starving man if he needs to eat too?” he grins.
A pillow is shoved under your hips, elevating them higher for his access. Another goes behind his headboard.
It’s still unbelievable you’re letting him do this to you.
Enjin wordlessly pats his shoulder, and you drape your legs over them.
He takes a one more good look at you, witnessing your needy state, eyes directed at him for help and no one else, as it always should have been. Your body he’d die for. Your vulnerability.
“Dammit…” he mutters under his nose, wondering if he will survive you.
“I need you,” slips out from your lips without a shame, and he questions his sanity when something twists in his stomach from this line.
“Yes, I know. I’ve got you.”
He doesn’t fuck you with his cock immediately. With his hands on your waist, he’s gliding it across your slit instead, holding the tip against your clit for a bit longer, relieved to finally make a more direct contact… If anything, you somehow managed to got him nervous as well, and he doesn’t want to push it in just yet, breathing deeply only from the brushes against you.
You crane your head back on the pillow, taking in the foreign sensation with goosebumps rising on your skin, still so sensitive from the previous joys.
“Just put it in already…” you say impatiently, squirming under him. He didn’t even take you yet but you’re already feeling Enjin-deficient.
“You’re gonna hurt yourself like that—”
“I’m not that weak,” you insist, curling your tone with a whine that does not lie.
And he could wait, and maybe he should… except, none of you can really do that, or you two might end up going on a rampage.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you…” he acquiesces. It’s funny how often he tries to deny you, only to fail at that by permitting leeway.
He rubs himself twice before he’s pushing in, just a head in at first, followed by his grunt.
Your breath stutters; your hole wants to push him out, unused to any bigger deal inside, but at the same time, he’s rubbing your nerves that were screaming to be pushed against nicely. There is some discomfort, naturally, but you don’t move to reject him away.
“Ah… Enjin…” you wince. You grab to hold onto his forearms before subconsciously tracing his tattoos with your fingers for comfort.
The tense look on your face threatens to make him nut on his spot — you barely able to take his thick size shouldn't excite him, but the fact it’s his you’re struggling with, adjusting to being filled, that fucks up with his brain.
There’s some concern too. “Gentle. Steady. No need to rush,” he comforts quietly. He kisses at your calf, going up to your ankle, teasing the skin to relax you.
You nod, biting your lip as some sweat breaks on your forehead. You think that the stretch cannot be only about your walls unadjusted to penetration, but stemming from Enjin simply being huge.
He thrusts in shallowly, still staying just head inside and grinding to get you more wet and used to him staying inside. Every brush against your entrance prods your muscles to part for him.
He rolls your clit with his index finger, another pleasure aiding you in relaxing, that he can fit it another inch soon.
You gasp, digging your nails into his skin.
“Easy, easy… Nice and slow…” he groans out, feeling tortured by the pressure on his cock. “You’re doing well.”
He commands himself for his restrain — with how hot and tight you are, it’s a challenge to not just push in at once. He’s not that mean, thankfully, rubbing himself inside of you instead.
“N-not fair,” you mumble.
“What again?” he wouldn’t know rationally anything in this state.
“You don’t deserve that size,” you say randomly, glaring at him through the blur of your tears.
He laughs, rather softly. “A way to insult a man. Yet here I am, splitting you.”
Convo is good, distracting you as he pushes in another inch in; in tune with your reactions. And he’s even not halfway through.
What happens next is therefore sudden.
He bottoms out — or rather — you decide to push yourself onto him with the slide of your body down, too keyed up and wanting this stressful moment gone, on a shortcut to the best part.
You both gasp loudly, he from the surprise, and you from the angry sting the stretch brings. Nonetheless, you’re proud of yourself, even as your chest rises quickly from the intense pressure.
“You're ridiculous, I’m trying to be gentle and you—” And you’re smiling at him, cheeky from your “achievement”, regardless of your tears. “You’re insane,” he says with exaggerated disbelief.
With your clear demand to not beat around the bush, he starts moving in your pussy, almost fully in, mesmerized by your eagerness to be used by him enough to take him in one fell swoop.
“Good fucking girl. Taking me so nicely. You would have thought this isn’t her first time—”
He’s moving a bit faster, even if your squeezing barely loosens.
“Or that she’s made for me.”
And faster.
“Might make her run back to me...” he rambles heatedly.
That sounds humiliating — to be wrapped around Enjin’s finger — but it’s not as if he’s any less addicted to you.
He might as well be deemed as barely holding up above you, his hands suffocating your hips, emulating the grip of your virgin pussy on him. Big teary eyes looking up at him will stay in his head for a while. You moan so nicely for him, as if you really were his girl.
And it’s becoming increasingly impossible for you to deny how much you want him on your own. Your body is thankfully adjusting fast enough, whether it’s your stamina from fighting trash beasts or eagerness, but you never stop feeling full and stretched.
“Fuck, don't stop…” you plead, digging your nails into his back when you draw him closer. “I can take it.”
Enjin growls at your words; it’s undeniable he is one hell of a lucky man, and you being this wanton for him barely allows him to maintain any self-restraint.
So much for being gentle with you because it’s your first time.
“Yeah? Want me to make a mess of you? Want me to make you come so hard you won’t be walking after?”
You nod your head fervently. “Y-yes. Need it so badly!” you babble, scratching at him.
You now regret you didn't have him like this earlier. Enjin is many things, but he's also attentive and observant enough to give you the best of the first times; if not also ensure you want no one else after as a side effect.
His dick twitches at your words. Enjin grabs you by the underside of your knees and pushes your legs to your chest before sinking deeper into you, right as he sets on a faster pace, each of the thrusts coming with a harder pressure and depth than before. His tall body pushes and crushes you into the mattress with expertise, handling your with ease the same way he handles his umbrella.
He kisses you madly, accepting your whines like they’re medicine. Your hand brushes his undercut, making him hum. His mouth sucks on the tip of your tongue before biting it gently and kissing you deeper.
Withdrawing, he bends you further as to stay close to your messy face.
“O-oh, you are such a lucky woman…” he laughs breathlessly, squeezing your poor legs. “Getting so spoiled on your first, it’s got to be a relief you picked me for this, huh?”
You mewl. He talks awful much, you can feel the heat in your belly mix with shame and excitement. You don't want to make him too cocky neither, but you’d be lying saying he's not giving you the best time of your life at the moment. Fills you to your limits.
“Say it. Not Gris, not any guy in some town, but Enjin,” he demands roughly.
“Can’t, won’t—” you protest, your guys churning.
“Come on. Don’t be so mean to me, darling,” he drawls. “I’m working reeeaaalll hard for you.”
“E-Enjin—” you’re actually parroting him out of desperation, your horny brain susceptible to his wishes; except, it’s so hard to to form a coherent sentence on your own at this stage of being ruined.
He grins, rewarding you with a deeper thrust. “Just like that. Full sentence: Enjin’s the best first guy to have,” he coos.
“Enjin’s the best…” you moan, clenching around him when he hits that spongy spot inside you and keeps going at it, “first guy to have!”
He’s never forgetting these words.
“Good girl.”
And it also seems that his girl — his, as he cannot comprehend the idea of letting you go after this — needs a little more than tenderness, have been going on without proper lay for so long.
Your face is in the pillows next, while he’s pulling your hips for you to stay on your knees, your ass in the air to never neglect his eyes.
The position makes you feel him even better as he slides in again, grabbing your hips, as you fist the sheets of his bed. You can feel his vein scraping your walls perfectly.
“Oh, please…” you cry out into the plush.
“I didn't even ask you to beg and look at you doing that on your own…” he marvels greedily. He wastes no time, resuming pounding into you with his balls hitting you, and your hole thanks him with more juices.
“So good…” you moan out, your eyes rolling back when he keeps hitting your spot back and forth. Muting any bed sounds was redundant when the skin, wetness and your own screams make enough noise for any theoretical passerby. Nonetheless, the frames of his furniture are jeopardized and screech when they’re getting loosened with every thrust.
His hands take on massaging your ass, spreading it to see how well you’re taking his size, appreciating your curves, with many curses accentuating his satisfaction.
“Throw yourself back on me. I wanna see how badly you need it…”
You whine when he stills his hips in place, but you start doing as you’re told, waving your body to start using his cock to the hilt.
“I can’t…” you warble, yet you can’t stop either. You’re taking slower but deeper than he did, your toes curling against the bed sheets when you point his tip to curve into you. He only helps you by grinding, spilling occasional praise too. You can tell you’re getting closer, your abdomen tightening. “I’m so full…”
All that precaution to be gentle, only for you to be so slutty in a stark contrast. And he does like women who are a little naughty.
Enjin throws his head back a little, getting off to the slow friction forcing him feel to every thrust, your little show, even if he gets a bit impatient to not rut into you again.
“You could kill a man this way, you know…” he groans, slapping your flesh once to see it jiggle.
You’re not any better, no matter how frenzy your shoves are, or the sting of his hand that amplifies your pleasure. Showing your enthusiasm, you still think your work is not as good — not as fast and impactful enough as when he was doing it. “Not enough…” you mumble. “Please, I wanna cum!”
“Don’t have to tell me twice.” You’re back at his meat with a hand on your waist shoving you down to his balls.
He’s worse than before, now focused only on making you finish, he not so far behind.
You almost fall down when he begins rubbing your clit, your hole tightening and tightening— until the coil snaps and you come, with the pulsing that begins right after, that his hips stutter. It’s so intense you can’t tell you get loud or nothing is vocalized from how speechless he rendered you. Blinding hot, searing pool, covering any nearly painful soreness that’s been growing.
You’ve had some orgasms before, pleasuring yourself; but it’s different this time, you coming on something real.
And you discover that you absolutely love to cum. Your first on his dick.
The tight space your pussy creates almost pushes Enjin to the edge, that he turns up on his motions, forcing you to ride out your orgasm as you lie under him all useless and fucked dumb. Your head is pushed down by his solid palm.
“Take it… take it deep in…!” he yelps through the constraint of his throat. “You’re gonna remember this…”
Until he finally spurts inside you, filling and hitting you with warm sticky, moreso ecstatic from not having to pull out. His hand threatens to crush your bones, and he bites his tongue as it all ends with a rough call of your name. He collapses on top of you, sweaty and hyperventilating, still sheathed deep in you so nothing spills.
“Geez… you…” he heaves, “You really are insane…”
“You okay?” he eventually asks, lifting his body so he’d stop crushing you, checking for any regrets.
“Yes…. But… more…” you whine into the pillow. He has to make sure he heard you right; you turn your head to the side when he brushes your hair off your face, your expression still delirious.
“Ugh… I have created a devil…” he says dryly, then laughs.
Onto your fours you go. Your hair is grabbed by him to give you even more of pleasure by inducing aches before he shoves you onto his sloppy dick again. The squelch is worse than it was before; sheets stick to your damp body as well.
Your legs, lingering as a jittering mass, have their knees almost give up. Yet Enjin doesn’t let you get away from it, even as you get overwhelmed every few, using your hair like an impromptu leash and keeping your back arched for him. His other hand fondles your moving breast from below, reminding himself of how much he loves them.
The headboard of his bed that walks around is really lucky to have that pillow, otherwise the wall behind would be almost as ruined as you are.
He curses when you are adamant on tightening near your another orgasm. “You’re a trouble… fucking insatiable doll…”
He feeds you with his decent amount of cum again soon enough. Tucks it in right after, making you gush when you peak again.
You can feel it everywhere over your body you’re at the brink of exhaustion, but before you’d let his dick and your sore pussy rest, there’s one more thing you need to consider yourself fulfilled.
Riding him, watching Enjin downplayed to an upmost mess on his own.
“Whoa!” he makes a sound of surprise, finding himself being pushed down onto his bed when trying to get up.
You straddle him, on your way to get what you want as if all these previous orgasms put you in a succubus alike trance — with an objective to suck Enjin dry.
“You’re still not done?” he asks with incredulity. Although, you putting your body on display hardly makes your choice rejectable. Judging by your legs playing their own plea at his sides, catching a break would be smart, however…
“Just once more, please…” you plead with big eyes — deliberate move — and he’s a terrible sucker for that. You’re already grabbing his cock popping hard again, raising yourself to be above it.
Enjin gulps. Then he snorts, astonished by the fact this is what you’ve been hiding in yourself all this time. “Are you sure you’re even a newbie? Maybe this is how you lure men in…”
He can only get himself comfortable, watching you stretch yourself with obsession. Eager to sit on it is a huge compliment. On his.
“No, this is how I lure men in—” you snap your hips down, taking him all in that way. A tiny pain shoots through you when you knock your own cervix, but you soothe that by grabbing his stomach to start chasing another ecstasy, thrusts made to be desperate.
His legs tremble and he gasps. They were already screwed, wrung out by all the magic of your hole, but now he’s entirely about to lose any weight in them.
“You little…!” he holds onto you from surprise, warbling sound escaping his throat.
You have to be natural. You're having too much fun for the first time, crazy and over the moon, making a toy of his cock and moving fast like there’s no tomorrow. If the world was ending, you’d probably want to fuck him, then cry about it not being enough because he’s too tired to go forward.
“I’m sorry, I’m just…” your delirious voice jumps as you do. “So relieved to know what it’s like…”
He can't really deny you, even if he’s worried his cock might fall off soon. You're just there, riding him like there’s no tomorrow, whipping previous cum into cream with the thrusts. And yet his body decides there’s still more he should give you, as every slap of skin of skin brings him closer to another load to gift your wet walls with.
Maybe he should become your fuck friend. It's good for a spirit. It’s good for team merits. He empties your balls in you, you get your itches scratched, you two make wonderful fighting duo in result.
Except, then he’d hate the idea of you not being attached, you making his heart terribly unhealthy without ever coming close enough.
Maybe he should become your—
“Seriously, girl, where did all this energy come from…” he whines, clenching his jaw from how impossibly sensitive you’re getting his cock. Still, seeing your own legs shake and fumble your pleasure, he helps you, pulling you up and down with strong hands. You really make a great team — cause you grind onto his blond pubes when he takes you down, pleasing your swollen clit.
He’d think you were training for that stuff with how easily you swallow him.
“Don’t care, I wanna cum—” you cry, fussy on top of him, raking his stomach that his breath hitches from the sting you bring. “I’m so close—”
Enjin obliges, manipulating with your clit sticky with your and his liquids, that annoyingly managed to drip out of you.
He has to fix that.
“That’s right. Come on me again,” he demands, needing to see you unravel for the last time this night, his dark gaze not straying away from any jiggle or facial contortion.
Your feet dig into his mattress as you finish, crying out his name. You collapse on top of him, your breath exhorted to treacherous levels, and you are a sweaty and lightheaded mess.
Still not done, he thrusts clumsily into you from below, letting you cling to him in that oddly intimate position.
A few more chases later, he empties himself into your hole, adding to the blend of fluids staining yours and his thighs in between; some has dried a long time ago. His voice is stuck in his throat, scraped, he can only choke on his moan.
You both take few seconds to catch up with any sense in the cottons of your brains fucked out. For a blink, he thinks you weigh him nicely, as he rubs your back and soothes your whimpers mindlessly.
It’s by miracle that he succeeds in unpeeling your shaky form from him before setting the breathless you next to him comfortably, even if at the expense of some awakening tenderness in his hips. “Careful there…” he mutters gently, straightening your poor limbs.
Your mess spills all over under you as you shiver from the sensitivity, and he watches his dark sheets become clearly stained, mesmerized from how much you took from him. He clean the excess with
The realization of what you did together slowly starts settling in, seeping in quietness from you and him if not to include the labored breathing; albeit, among the aches and hormones, giving fucks brings more thrill than regret.
Enjin’s still dutiful, that despite his exhaustion, he remembers to look clearly at you and make sure you’re not broken. You’re as tired as he is, if not more — nothing above the norm. As he cleans you with the towel he had prepared earlier and drops it to the floor before beginning to massage your tense legs, you stare back at him with a bleary smile.
Something about that tiny curve makes his stomach clench with something plummeting in it. This is why it’s dangerous to stay around after sex… however, he doesn’t have it in himself to make you leave. Besides, that would be a really foul behavior towards someone who was made to lose her v card.
He’s ready to ask if you’re alright to be on the safe side, but you’re already getting back to yourself, making a first complaint:
“You’re just so adamant on yapping your mouth. Your mouth doesn’t shut even as you’re guts deep in me.”
He raises a brow before snickering, even if you somehow manage to make him embarrassed. He stretches his arm to the side of the bed before offering you water.
“All that moonshine? I was saying whatever,” he says nonchalantly.
You desperately chug on the liquid, fed by him. He drinks after you.
“Oddly specific moonshine,” you rebuke bluntly after.
“Yeah. Performance nervousness.” He shakes his head as if you’re dramatic, pretending it’s not a weird feeling to have you naked and spent in his bed. All because of some jealousy and messed up sense of responsibility…
Among other feelings he still finds difficult to voice out openly.
“Anyway. Let’s go take a shower.” He pats your ass, for once not reaching for a cigarette immediately after a fuck.
“Us?” you question through your yawn.
He gives you unimpressed look — didn’t he just take your virginity? “Duh. We've got to save water. Unless you want to take an icy shower after me?”
“You’re saying you’d go first? Ladies first, don’t you know!” you slap his shoulder in offense — barely, not having it in you to actually hurt him.
Enjin scoffs with amusement. “No less. But I doubt you’d be able to walk on your own, so I might as well be done before you even get your ass up.”
He’s got a point.
But as soon as he tries to stand up and carry you to bathroom, enacting some Prince Charming, he is forced to have a painful realization his legs refuse to cooperate, and falls back onto the bed.
You laugh shamelessly at him, watching him turn into a plank. “Wow. That was embarrassing.”
He scowls, pinching your hip. As you squeak in surprise, he draws you close, then pulls covers over you. It’s nice, if he ignores the sticky quality of your bodies.
“Okay. Maybe a nap first…” he mutters tiredly, resting his head on your shoulder — unapologetically claiming it as his pillow.
“… Enjin?” you ask hesitantly.
You’re not immune to the effects this type of closeness brings either. Except, you know how you may feel about him — it’s still a food for thought about why he’s doing that himself, with Enjin not often talking about himself.
Sure, it might as well be him only giving you aftercare after squeezing all the life force out of your body, but if you were consider everything else that happened between you in the last couple of months, or even just that night at the club…
One of his eye open. He speaks quietly, cozy and relaxed; he’s usually calm and nostalgic after sex, now he’s even peaceful.
“You’re just warm,” he brushes off your subtle implication for now. Sappy and clingy is not his style, nor his type, yet here he is, taking care of you like of his vital instrument; he probably fell a victim to this gooey and greasy heart feeling first too, knowing his luck with you. “Go to sleep. Then we’ll talk.” He pushes you closer to his chest.
You suppose it’s alright, for at least tonight.
“Talk about what?” you ask with curiosity, your own eyelids hanging lower and lower as pleasant drowsiness overtakes you.
That’s a good question. The problem is, Enjin is not exactly sure himself yet. He could talk about…
The fact that you’ve got him messed up? That there’s a real crisis of his person, to the point you make him reevaluate himself, stuck as a focal point in his mind? That he wants to both fuck you so hard you think about him and him and him only, but also desires to make you happy and content like this on a daily basis? Or is it about the whole truth that anything nowadays is somehow connected to you, him wondering if you’d like or hate those things? Or is it that he’d like to know what makes you tick? And, can you please keep getting along with the kids he cares about?
All those things said aloud, or even a modicum of them since he’s still afraid, might turn your relationship beyond salvaging. Yet life is all about taking risks — he might die any day anyway. He’s come so far with you tonight, too; he’d be a fool not to attempt an effort to keep you close afterward.
“… You’ll see,” he mutters comfortably before finally falling asleep.
Nevertheless, it’s a promise.
AFTERNOTE: I’d like to apologize if there were any mistakes. I have trouble maintaining my attention on longer fics, but on the other hand I can’t make them shorter haha — this is my third Enjin oneshot and somehow all of them placed chronologically get increasingly longer. In any case, I hope you enjoyed reading my story!
SYNOPSIS: sukuna refuses to let his pretty little wife work - not under his roof. He’ll provide you with whatever you desire, as long as you return the favour.
❀ DEE SAYS: I like writing Sukuna as an old-fashioned blue-collar husband
♫ — WHAT’S IT GONNA BE?! BY BUSTA RHYMES
Ryōmen Sukuna was a simple man.
He went to work, came home, ate, slept, then went to work. Occasionally, he’d watch some sports shit, or some news shit, or some other shit. It was all shit to him, ever the pessimist. Yet, there was one thing Ryōmen always looked forward to at the end of a long day — returning to you, his cute little wife. Even if he wasn’t one to show it.
Sukuna had retired you a couple years into knowing each other, told you that ‘no woman of his should lift a damn finger’. Sure, he wasn’t the best with his money, but he never gambled with your livelihood. Every day he put dinner on the table, kept the lights on, and kept the hot water running. You didn’t expect much else other than that, and a small portion of Sukuna was grateful for your leniency.
And yet, one day, it came to mind that you needed a car. He’s not sure where the fuck you got that idea from, and he was a little annoyed you had interrupted his sports shit to express such concerns, but so is the price of spoiling his woman rotten.
“I just think it would really make errands easier, Sukuna.”
“Mhm,” he mumbled, sipping loudly from the can of beer in his hand, scratching at his side absentmindedly.
“Plus, it just kinda makes sense, you know? I already have a licence, and we can afford it, and it’ll be a real game changer.”
Craning his neck to the side, trying to catch the end of the first half of the game, Sukuna let out another non-commital grunt, now scratching at his stomach.
“Sukuna, I’m being serious now!” Your voice raised and body tensed, tone indignant as you glared down at your husband on the couch. And yet, as soon as his eyes met yours, you could already feel yourself soften under his gaze.
Sukuna gave you a look up and down before rolling his eyes. “Yeah yeah, car, errands, game changer. How you planning to fuel this car, woman? On dreams?”
Scoffing, you rolled your eyes back at his sardonic tone.
“I could pick up some part time work, if necessary. It’s not like it would kill me-”
“No.”
Raising an eyebrow, you watched as your husband quickly flicked off the tv, his entire focus on you. His jaw ticked, as if you’d upset him, and from the way his hand curled tighter around the remote, you were afraid you genuinely had.
Regardless, you pressed on.
“No?”
“No.” He did not elaborate, letting the can clink against the side table and the remote fall into the couch cushions.
Adjusting his position, Sukuna sat slightly more upright, spreading his legs and gesturing for you to come closer. When you obliged his hands met your hips, guiding you onto his lap with a gentleness that belied the frustration in his expression. Leaning in closer, he relished in the way your breath hitched as his lips grazed your shoulder, travelling up the slope of your neck to your ear. He brushed against it teasingly before he spoke in that deep, gravelly voice that always drove you insane.
“You wanna car? I’ll get you a fuckin’ car.” His teeth teased your lobe, hands still planted firmly on your hips as his heat seeped into the fabric, warming your skin.
Your brow furrowed, expression soon relaxing into one of relief as Sukuna nipped at your ear lobe before soothing it with his tongue.
“Then what were you saying no about?”
Trailing down your jawline, Sukuna peppered your skin with butterfly kisses, with that same softness he reserved only for you. His grip on your hips was tight, pinning you to his lap - not that you were keen to escape his grasp anyways.
“No wife of mine needs a damn job.” He murmured before pressing an insistent kiss to your lips, his moving against yours with urgency before licking your bottom lip, sucking on it softly. As you opened your mouth, ever so obedient, he spoke into the embrace - “I’ll get you your car, woman.”
Your eyes lit up with excitement, in a way that Sukuna couldn’t help but admire. The sheer energy that you emanated was palpable, and he was thankful he regularly got caught in your rays. But now? Now his pretty little wife was sitting in his lap, looking at him with the world in her eyes, and all Sukuna could think about was absolutely ruining you.
Wrapping your arms around Sukuna’s neck, you pressed your lips more insistently against his, unable to keep yourself from breaking out into a wide smile, “Really, honey? You mean it?”
Groaning, Sukuna hands moved down to paw at your asscheeks with no shame, pushing you higher on his lap until your clothed core rubbed against his already-hard cock. “Uh huh. Now shut up ‘nd kiss me before I change my mind.”
Rolling your eyes, you opened your mouth once more, inviting your husband in. He wasted no time in exploring your mouth, no inch left undiscovered. While one greedy hand continued to squeeze your ass cheek, another took a handful of your breasts, touching you in a way that only Sukuna could.
Your head bowed slightly, forehead resting on his as he continued to ravage so many parts of you. His kiss was hungry, his hands were insistent, and his cock throbbed as if it would explode any second. When his lips finally parted from yours, he grunted softly to you, hands still working away.
“My pretty little wife. You gonna show me how much you want that car? Hmm?”
Narrowing your eyes at the sleazy man beneath you who was already unbuckling his belt, you shifted on his jean-cladded thighs. “You’re a real jackass, Sukuna.”
He chuckled at this, sliding his trousers down just enough for his cock to spring up, angry and red. You gave it a quick glance, soon distracted by both of Sukuna’s hands delving between your thighs. Before you could question him, his fingertips prodded at your clothed core, drawing a gasp from you.
Then, your dirtbag darling husband unceremoniously ripped a gaping hole in your leggings.
While one part of you marvelled at the effortless strength, the part of you that just bought these damn leggings swatted at your husband – even as his fingers brushed deliciously against your panties.
“Sukuna! Those were new!”
“I’ll buy you twenty new ones, just shut up n’ take it.” He was audacious, and while it made you scoff, you couldn’t help but smile fondly at him, even as his thick fingertips pushed your panties to the side and rubbed at your entrance. His digits circled like vultures closing in on their prey, spreading your arousal across your pussy, before finally digging inside. He bullied two into your cunt with no mercy, stretching you out and delighting in your whine.
“Fuck, you’re soaked.”
Sukuna wasn’t one to pull punches, and soon enough he was fucking his fingers deep into you, blunt nails grazing that spongy spot that had you gasping and gripping his shoulders. Your lips were parted, his name melting on your tongue like butter as he kept pressing and pressing. He was so insistent, eager to scissor you open and prep you for his cock.
Looking between you, you marvelled at the precum pearling at his tip, dribbling down his shaft. One prominent vein bulged out, throbbing as he became more and more focused on your squelching cunt. Lost in thought, you arched your back until your body grazed his abandoned cock, earning a hiss from Sukuna.
“Gonna stretch you real good woman, yeah? Always clenching on me, whining it’s too much.”
Scoffing to himself, the hand that steadied your hip quickly yanked at the hem of your top, tugging it just high enough for your tits to bounce free. You struggled to keep yourself upright, hands slipping from his shoulders, body shaking from exertion. It took everything for you to not collapse on top of him, to not succumb and slump like a ragdoll as he pulled orgasm after orgasm out of you.
But then his hand met your lower back, forcing you into an arch as his lips met your nipples.
“K-Kuna-!”
His teeth grazed the delicate skin as he sucked ruthlessly, face buried into your chest. You whimpered and whined, one hand leaving his shoulders to press his head deeper.
“You smell so good, babe.” He murmured into your skin, sniffing unashamedly, still suckling hard on your pebbled nipples. “Like coconut and sex.”
Arm wrapped around his head, you gritted your teeth, still pulling him closer. “Sh-Shut up, Sukuna.”
Pleased by the desperation in your voice, Sukuna smirked against your skin, still roughly finger-fucking into you. “Awh, c’mon woman. Don’t be shy. Can’t I compliment my wife?”
His touch became more forceful, more demanding as you clenched around his fingers, eager to bring you to the edge. Breath hot against your skin, Sukuna plunged deeper before abruptly tugging them out, delighting in the frustrated cry that left your lips. He soon quelled your cries with his cock however, grabbing it by the hilt and nudging his tip against your clit.
Teasing wasn’t a strong enough word - Sukuna was torturing you right now, pushing you into humiliating desperation.
“You want this dick bad, don’t you? Want me to fuck you full?” His mouth unlatched from your nipple, kissing up your chest until they reattached to the skin of your throat, suckling a harsh hickey into it. He noticed the way you gulped softly, the way your body shivered in his grasp - so sensitive, so perfect.
The little ‘mhm’ you managed to stutter out wasn’t enough for Sukuna, the hand that wasn’t slowly pumping his cock now gently cupping the back of your neck. Pulling you closer, he trailed up to your jawline, nibbling gently on it.
“Need your words, woman. Tell me just how much you need it. Beg for this dick.”
Shaking your head, your breath hitched as he pressed insistently against your tight ring of muscle. Sukuna’s expression was conflicted, as if he was stuck between leaving you high and dry or ravaging you. His grip on the back of your neck tightened, fingers pressing in and cutting off some of your oxygen.
“No? You don’t want this?” He chuckled, kissing your forehead almost tenderly before continuing, “Don’t lie. You know you want it.”
Squirming softly, you tried to push down onto his cock, to no avail. Sukuna’s grip on you was ironclad, and you took shallow breaths as he rolled his eyes playfully.
“You’re so stubborn. Just say you want it, you brat. I’m not getting you the car unless you speak up.”
Whining, tears pricked your eyes as he continued to press his tip insistently, yet not bothering to push in. It was agonising, and the control he had over your body made your head spin.
“You’re so mean, Sukuna! You know I don’t like talking like that!”
Raising an eyebrow, he scoffed, leaning forward and nipping your lip.“Well you better start warming up to the idea, Y/N. I mean it, no car.”
Glaring at him, you gritted your jaw in irritation before sighing, expression softening with desire.
“Please, Kuna. Please fuck me full. Please, give me your dic-!”
The words had barely fallen from your lips when you were silenced by your husband’s cock stretching you open, mouth parted in a silent cry as he bullied himself into your cunt. Inch by agonising inch, he pressed deeper until you were firmly planted on his lap, practically split apart on him.
Despite time after time of sex with your husband, there was always a stretch, always a difficulty. Most times began in a similar fashion - you trembling and trying to relax as he impatiently stared down at you. Yet, as impatient as he looked, Sukuna never moved until you were ready, until you gave him the go ahead.
“Woman, you’re squeezing me. Relax, before I lose all control.”
Whimpering, you let yourself flatten against his chest, breathing softly into his nape. You felt him bristle slightly before a tentative arm wrapped around you, holding you close.
“Kuna, you’re too big. It’s not my f-fault.”
You could feel the smug grin even before his hand trailed down your back, caressing your ass cheek and giving it yet another squeeze.
“Not my fault you haven’t moulded to your husband’s cock yet.”
If you had not been struggling right now, you would certainly be giving him a serious screw face. The audacity of that man was astounding. Luckily for him, you were too fucked out to care. He adjusted his hips, tip kissing places it should not, and the moan it tore from you sounded almost pained. Sukuna pulled back slightly, a glimmer of concern in his gaze.
“You okay?” He murmured, forehead pressing against your temple.
“M’fine, Sukuna. You can m-move. Please, move.”
Sukuna gave a gruff grunt before twisting you in his arms, carefully laying you down on the sofa without pulling out. You were grateful for something fairly-solid supporting your back, and gazed up at Sukuna, all starry-eyed. And Ryōmen Sukuna, self-proclaimed evil incarnate, felt his heart melt in his chest.
You were the only thing that truly mattered to him, his annoying wife, his woman. He would never tell you that, but you knew it from his gaze, from the way those carmine irises almost disappeared as his pupils blew wide.
You were his drug, and he was blissfully addicted.
“Relax, woman.” He reminded you, hand now trailing over your exposed stomach, thumb deceptively gentle as it absentmindedly stroked your skin. You could feel him, feel him deep, and the way he pressed down made the pleasure dizzying. Mind consumed wholly by Sukuna, you bit your lip, rolling your hips expertly.
“Kuna, m’gonna go crazy if you don’t move.”
His lips curved into a sharp grin, canines glistening as he looked down at you, before nodding sharply. Sukuna’s cock slowly dragged back, every ridge brushing your walls until only the tip remained. And then? Then he sunk into you so deeply, so intimately, that your back arched into a perfect curve, and a sinful moan fell from your lips.
It was everything, he was everything, he was everywhere, you couldn’t think, he was consuming you. Wholly. As he rocked his hips deeper, faster, you practically lost all sense of self. Everything else melted into nothingness, overwhelmed by the sheer pleasure overloading your brain.
Sukuna was ruthless, pistoning into you with fervour, head bowing to rest in the crook of your neck. Indulgent, he sucked and bit at your already-marked skin, moaning softly into the hickeys and bite marks already blossoming.
“Holy shit, woman. You’re gripping me like a fuckin’ vice.”
An obscene squelch filled the room, your slick and his precum creating a mesmerising cacophony that had the both of you reeling. The heady scent of sex, sweat, and desire was potent; so much so that it would linger till morning. Creaks and groans sounded underneath your writhing bodies, the beat-up sofa already on its last legs, and yet inevitably ignored.
“M’gonna fuck you so good… fuck you full, get you pregnant.”
You mewled wantonly, wrapping your legs around his waist as Sukuna continued to press deeper inside, tip mercilessly prodding at your sweet spot. He was panting and groaning on top, the grooves of his fingertips boring into the supple flesh of your hips, grip tight enough to leave vivid evidence come morning. Beads of sweat trickled down his brow, rolling down his temple and chasing the curve of his jawline before dripping onto your awaiting chest.
“Kuna… s’too much,” your voice was a weak whimper, almost pained from the pleasure, hands trailing up his arms only to dig into the meat of his biceps.
“Don’t care. Take it, wife. You’re mine.” He hissed softly at the bite of your nails, his own grip on your waist tightening, eyes hazy with desire. “Don’t need a fucking car, should just stay in bed all day, ready for me. My woman, my wife.”
His words were almost a desperate growl, the sheer intensity making you clench around his throbbing cock. Sukuna was becoming more irate by the second, especially as your cunt gripped him so deliciously. Head bowed, his forehead met yours as his pace faltered, a sound almost akin to a whine drawing from deep in his throat.
“Gonna breed you, get you pregnant. Fuck, you’re gonna look so pretty with my child. All round and glowing.”
You were spinning, completely consumed by your husband’s desire. With every pitiful clench of your cunt, you came closer and closer to the edge, helplessly pliant as he plowed you till kingdom come. It was raw, it was desperate, it was dirty — and you both succumbed to its intensity.
As the knot in your stomach wound tight, you arched until the peaks of your breasts grazed his chest, nails raking down his back until fiery trails decorated his damp skin.
“Kuna, so close! M’gonna cum! Please!”
Sukuna’s pace faltered before picking up to an almost inhumane speed, catching your lips in a messy kiss. You moaned lewdly as he grunted and groaned into your mouth, eyes screwed tightly shut as you both came close to your highs.
His hand cupped your cheek, fingertips entangled in your hair as he came with a hard tug, head thrown back in pleasure. The pleasure soon consumed you as well, the warmth of his cum triggering your own orgasm. Crying out, you shook underneath your husband, nails almost drawing blood with how deeply you were gripping them.
“Sukuna! Fuck, baby! K-Kuna!”
As the high began to wash over you both, cooling the fire that had been burning between you, Sukuna collapsed on top of you, head buried in your nape. You let your arms wrap around him in response, drawing him that impossible inch closer.
The two of you simply laid there for a while, catching your breaths, feeling the beat of each other’s hearts. Then, Sukuna raised up, giving your cheek a chaste kiss before sitting on his haunches.
“You… you’re so…” The words caught in his throat, the man stuck between his pride and his devotion to you. Luckily for him, you knew him like the back of your palm, squeezing him softly. “I love you too, Sukuna.”
He hummed in response, a twitch of a smile on his lips, before his gaze turned to the mess between your legs. Sukuna’s eyes zeroed in on the cum dripping out despite his cock still inside. A tentative thumb spread you further, eyes darting to you for a second when you hissed, before slowly pulling his cock out. And then, as you lay there shaking still, your husband watched, enamoured, as his cum oozed out of your twitching pussy onto the couch cushions below.
“You should be keeping it in, woman. Wasting my precious seed.”
When his eyes darted up to you again, he was slightly taken aback by the smirk on your face. Sitting up slowly, you closed your thighs, ignoring all the stickiness now spreading over your skin.
“Well, guess I’ll need some more then.”
Shakily standing, you stood before Sukuna, shirt falling back into place as you smiled down at him, sickeningly sweet. Sukuna simply stared up at you, the both of you well aware that you had him wrapped around your finger.
His eyes trailed downwards, breath hitching at the cum staining your thighs, still only partially exposed as your leggings hung in tatters on your waist, before flicking back up to you. “Yeah? You want more?”
Biting your lip, you simply smiled wider before turning to the bedroom, taking off your t-shirt as you walked. When you reached the doorway, you leaned on it as you tugged off your ruined leggings, wiggling your ass a little before looking back at your husband.
Unsurprisingly, Sukuna had tossed all of his clothes onto the sofa and was already approaching you, cock painfully hard as he ran a hand through his strands. As soon as he reached you, he swept you off your feet before unceremoniously dumping you on the bed.
“We ain’t leaving this room until I’m sure you’re knocked up, woman.”
You looked up in surprise as he leant over you, flipping you like you weighed nothing, before dragging you by your ankle closer. The smirk in Sukuna’s voice was audible as you scrambled to cling to the sheets, all to no avail. His breath warmed your neck as he leant in, murmuring onto your skin.
“Don’t run now, Y/N. Ain’t this what you wanted? More?”
Lord, the fucking car was the least of your worries now.
WANNA CÚM, GIVE MY BROTHER SOME. no-one could fault you for jumping at the first chance to kiss your best friend, the man you had a crush on for years, gojo satoru. but had you been a bit more observant, you might have noticed that it wasn't satoru you were kissing, but his shy, quiet twin-brother.
featuring. frat!gojo x reader x nerd!gojo
content MDNI double penètration, cümmîng on tîts, cowgîrl, tit sücking, anàl, body worshîp, dirty tàlk, thrèesome, màking out, mistaken identity, crèàmpîe, èxhibîtionism, màstürbation
word count 7.2k
note my first fic on here 💙 please interact, like, comment or anything <3 art credit.
The air in the bedroom was still, thick with the scent of old paper and the faint, sweet dust of spilled Oreos. You didn’t notice. All you could taste was mint and heat and the shocking softness of Gojo Satoru's mouth, yielding under yours with a startled, desperate sound.
It wasn't a groan so much as a fracture, a sharp and stifled "Hngh —" that vibrated against your lips before dissolving into a wet, open-mouthed gasp as you licked inside. Your thumb found his lower lip, plush and damp, and pressed down. He shuddered.
"Oh, god," Gojo moaned, his words muffled, breathless. A warm hand hovered, trembling in the air beside your hip, before settling on your waist, fingers digging in through the fabric of your shirt, "You want this? You actually want me?"
You leaned into the delicious touch, rolling your hips forward. The hard line of his erection strained against his pants, a blatant, thrilling pressure against your thigh. You ground down, earning a choked-off whimper that went straight to your core.
"More than anything," you breathed, and it was the truth. You'd wanted Satoru for years. Through countless afternoons in his perpetually messy room, your legs swinging off the edge of his unmade bed while he flexed a bicep, and demanded you acknowledge its growth.
You knew the landscape of his chaos by heart. The Red Bull racing jacket slung over the second-hand couch, the galaxy of LED strips on the ceiling, the expensive whiskey stolen from his father's office, hidden under the bed next to a box of daifuku. You knew the sound of his voice, loud and bright and endlessly boasting.
You knew the flush that painted Gojo's cheeks when he laughed, the predatory glint that twinkled in his blue eyes when he was focused on scoring a goal.
You knew all of that. So you didn't question the clean, woodfire-like scent that wasn't his usual overpriced cologne. You didn't register the absence of a thumping bass from a portable Bluetooth speaker, overpowering the raging party downstairs. You didn't wonder about the lack of a jersey-strewn floor.
Your mind was full of Satoru, the fantasy of him. Finally you had him, lips parted and moaning against you.
His kiss was hungry, but there was a clumsiness to it, a frantic and untutored edge that you assumed your best friend would lack. Teeth clacked against yours, and the hand on your waist slid around the small of your back, pulling you flush against him with a strength that made you gasp.
Gojo took advantage of that, his tongue surging forward to meet yours, not with the practiced and teasing swagger you may have anticipated, but the raw and consuming intensity that felt like being devoured.
You broke for air, panting as you rested your forehead against his feverish skin. Your eyes began to blearily crack, swimming with sensation. It was only then that other details began to bleed through.
The bed behind Gojo's knees was firm, the comforter taut and neatly tucked. Not the familiar and chaotic nest that you were accustomed to. the light was different, a warm and steady glow from a desk lamp, not the pulsating ice-blue sparkle of LEDs. And the sounds were reduced to the quiet hum of a laptop fan, and the ragged symphony of your breathing mingled with his.
Your eyes sharpen in the dim gloom, landing on the Star Wars poster first. The Empire Strikes Back. Centred perfectly on the wall opposite the bed. And then the desk, obsessively ordered with a closed MacBook aligned precisely with a stack of textbooks. Thick volumes, like An Introduction to Quantum Field Theory, The Mathematics of General Relativity.
Behind them, a humble pile of manga, a volume of Shingeki no Kyojin dog-eared open to a tense, detailed art of two brothers, Eren and Zeke Yeager facing off against one another. Your gaze drops, a porcelain plate in a delicate robin's egg blue, upon the desk. On it, a half-open packet of Oreos had spilled a constellation of black crumbs across the surface.
Oh, the glasses. You hadn't felt them during the kiss, hadn't thought about them while his mouth slanted over yours. But you see them now, slightly askew on the bridge of his nose, thick and black-framed lenses that magnified the most startling, familiar shade of blue.
A jewel-blue currently wide with shock, and a hunger so deep it looked like terror.
This wasn't Satoru.
Satoru's nose has always been straight, proud. This one had a slight, scholarly bump on the bridge. Satoru's hair was a wild and artful mess of white, ruffled by his own hand and often stuck beneath a plain, crooked cap. This was cut neater, softer at the temples. Satoru filled any room with his presence, but the Gojo in front of you seemed to absorb the silence around him, to live within it.
Gojo Satoshi.
The quieter of the two twins. The genius. The ghost who inhabited Satoru's loud and glorious shadow. You'd seen him in passing for years, a figure in Uniqlo cable-knit sweaters and pressed chinos, always lugging around a humble stack of books, his voice a low rumble that you'd maybe heard a dozen times total.
Satoru often mentioned him with a soft of affectionate, bewildered pride. My brother's rewriting spacetime in the library. Boring, isn't it?
You had kissed Satoru's 'boring' brother. And he had kissed you back like a man who had been starving for a lifetime. And judging by the low heat pooling in your gut, the slick that you knew seeped through your lace panties, he had incited a fire in you that was anything but dull.
His hand was still on your back, a brand through your shirt. His other had come up, fingers tangling hesitantly in the hair at your nape. He was breathing as if he had run a marathon, his chest heaving against yours. The hard length of his arousal pressed insistently upon you, and it hadn't softened for a second.
If anything, it felt more pronounced. A rigid and righteous truth between yo.
"You're not, oh– " You started, voice a hoarse whisper, "You're not Satoru."
He flinched as if he had been struck. The hungry light in his eyes flickered, dimming into something horrified, wounded and ashamed. His warm grip loosened, beginning to pull away, "I'm sorry. I thought...I thought you knew. I thought you meant to– "
He was going to apologise. He was going to stop.
And something primal in you rebelled. The heat was still there, coiled dormant in your belly. The taste of him, of mint and Oreos and something uniquely, intellectually sharp, was still on your tongue. The evidence of his want was a solid, thrilling weight against you. And the shame in his eyes was somehow hotter than Satoru's confidence had ever been.
Your hand, which had fallen from his soft lips, shot up. You didn't push Satoshi away. You fisted your hand in the soft, expensive wool of his sweater, right over his pounding heart.
"Yeah, I didn't know," you said, the words falling from your mouth in a rush. You watched his face twisted, as though he was already prepared for the condemning fury that would drive you away from him forever, his breath hitched.
"But I don't want you to stop."
The change was instantaneous, the wounded look shattered, replaced by a flush so intense that it stole the air from your lungs. You remembered Satoru's words about his twin brother. The shy one out of the two of us. He's quiet, doesn't really get around much. He never even goes on dates either.
The hand at your back clamped down, yanking you against him with a force that made you yelp. His mouth crashed back onto yours, no hesitation left.
This kiss was different. It was claiming, and it was filthy, pornographic in its force and sound.
A low, guttural sound ripped from his throat, "Mmph, fuck!" as he walked you backwards. The back of your knees hitting the edge of his perfectly made bed. You tumbled onto it, him following you down, his body covering yours, all lean muscle and toned definition unleashed. The neat comforter wrinkled violently beneath you.
He broke the kiss to trail his mouth down your jaw, your neck, his teeth scraping over your pulse point. "You feel it?" he growled against your skin, his voice deeper, rougher than you’d ever heard it. He rocked his hips, grinding that relentless hardness against the seam of your jeans. "Feel what you do to me? I've watched you. For years. In his room. Laughing. God, I've wanted you so bad."
His blatant, blurted confession was a lit match dropped in gasoline. You arched up, meeting his thrust, a broken moan escaping you, "Satoshi– "
Hearing his name on your lips seemed to undo him completely. He reared back, just enough to look down at you, his glasses slightly fogged, his snowy hair disheveled. His hands went to the hem of your shirt, "Off. Now. Please."
It wasn't a request nor a demand. It was a fervent, desperate prayer. The cool air of the room hit your bare skin, raising goosebumps. Satoshi didn't give you a second to feel exposed. His gaze, magnified and blazing behind his glasses, drank you in, not with shyness, but with a voracious, focused intensity that made your breath catch. This wasn't the tentative boy from the hallway. This was a man who knew exactly what he wanted.
"God, you're perfect," he murmured, the words a rough scrape of sound. His hands, which you’d always seen holding pens or turning textbook pages, settled on your ribs. They were warm, slightly calloused, and they spanned your waist with an easy possessiveness before sliding up to cup the soft weight of your breasts.
A shocked and sharp gasp left you as his thumbs brushed over your nipples, already tight and pebbled. He watched your face, cataloging every twitch, every flutter of your eyelids.
"So sensitive, responsive," he noted, a hint of that academic curiosity colouring his tone, now turned utterly carnal and ragged, "Let's see, hmm?"
Satoshi bent his head, white hair falling over his forehead, and his mouth was on your nipple, not tentative, not exploratory, but knowing. His lips closed around one peak, his tongue laving it in a firm, wet circle before he sucked, deep and deliberate.
"Ah! Satoshi!" Your back arched off the bed, a jolt of pure, white-hot pleasure spearing straight to your core. Your hands flew to his hair, tangling in the soft white strands, holding him to you. He groaned against your skin, the vibration making you cry out again.
He switched sides, giving the same devastating attention to your other breast, biting down just enough on the stiffened peak to make you jerk and whimper, "You like that?" he asked, his voice muffled against your flesh, and he didn’t wait for an answer, "You do, huh? I can feel you shaking."
Satoshi released your nipple with a wet pop! and looked up, his lips slick, his glasses slightly askew. The dominance in his expression was staggering, "Spread your legs wider."
It wasn't a question. It was a soft, and firm command. Heat flooded you, a liquid pulse between your thighs. You obeyed, letting your knees fall open, and he immediately settled into the space he demanded, the rough fabric of his pants a maddening friction against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.
The hard ridge of his cock pressed insistently against your clothed cunt, and your rocked up against it, seeking sweet relief.
"Tsk, impatient," Satoshi chided, but his eyes darkened with approval, as he leaned down again, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss as one hand continued to knead and palm your breast, his thumb rubbing relentless circles over your taut nipple. The other hand slid down your stomach, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your jeans, teasing, "So hot for me already. And you thought I'd be shy? That I wouldn't know how to fuck you right, how to fuck you as you deserve?"
"I — I didn't know," you panted, breaking the kiss to gasp for air, "Satoru always said you were– "
"Gonna' talk about my brother when I'm the one sucking your tits?" There's a hint of a smile colouring Satoshi's voice, as he ducks his head back to your chest, sucking a bruise mark just above your glistening areola, "Fuck, baby, you taste incredible. I could this for hours, just feast on you. Would you let me? Would you lie here and let me use my mouth on every inch of you?"
The filthy promise in his words coil tight in your abdomen. You were moaning openly now, little punched-out sounds with every pull of his mouth, every skilled roll of his fingers over your aching, wanting flesh. The world had narrowed to the scent of him, your best friend's younger twin, the quieter of the two. All you could think about was the wet, hot suction of his lips, and the building, desperate throb between your own.
"Hey, have you seen my — what the fuck?"
A familiar voice, loud and brimming with shock that echoed in the sudden, frozen silence.
Satoshi went rigid against you, his mouth stilling on your chest. You felt as though your entire body locked, head snapping towards the door.
Gojo Satoru stood in the doorway, a cheap plastic cup dangling from his long fingers. His blue eyes, so like his brother's and yet so fundamentally different, were wide, taking in the scene. You, shirtless and flushed, sprawled across his twin's bed. Satoshi, nestled between your thighs, his face buried in your chest, his hands roaming over bare skin.
The intimate, humid heat of the room seemed to visibly crash into him. For a long, suspended second, no one moved. No one dared to breathe.
Then Satoshi slowly, deliberately lifted his head. He didn't scramble away, didn't fluster and push his skewed glasses back up the bridge of his nose. His expression was a masterpiece of exasperated annoyance painted over a deep, furious flush. A string of saliva connected his lower lip to your damp skin for a second before breaking.
He sighed, a long-suffering, deeply put-upon sound, "Come on, man. Now? Really?"
His tone was so dry, so utterly Satoshi, like the quiet twin you had often brushed past in the corridors, that it broke the paralysis. You jolted, attempting to sit up, to cover yourself, your own face burning with a mixture of shock and mortification, "Satoru, I — we didn't, it's not– "
But Satoru wasn't looking at you with anger. The initial shock was melting away, replaced by something else entirely. His gaze traveled from your face, down your exposed torso where Satoshi's hand still rested possessively, to the obvious and telling flush crawling up his brother's neck, and back to your wide, teary eyes.
A slow and wicked grin spread across his face, the same smile you had seen plastered over his expression after scoring a winning point, after pocketing a pretty girl's number, after making you laugh so hard your ribs hurt.
"Oh, it's not...what? I'd say it's something," Satoru drawled, stepping fully into the room and kicking the door shut behind him with a soft thud! The lock clicked, and the finality of the sound sent a new and entirely different kind of shiver through you.
Satoru tilted the cup back, catching the last remnants, eyes still following the minute shiver that ran through you, the cool air of the room stiffening your bare nipples. Your best friend set the cup down carefully on the edge of his twin's desk, right beside the plate of Oreo crumbs.
He pulled out the desk chair, straddling it backwards, resting his arms on the backrest. Settling in.
"Don't stop on my account, man," Satoru said, his grin turning sharp, predatory in a way that made your thighs clench around his brother's waist.
Satoshi stared at him for another beat. You saw the conflict in his eyes, the embarrassment warring with defiant and a rare flicker of something competitive. Then, with a quiet huff that was almost a laugh, he looked back down at you. His gaze has changed, for the initial shock was gone, burnt away by a new and daring heat. His brother's presence wasn't a deterrent, it was a catalyst.
"You heard him, baby," Satoshi murmured, his voice dropping back to that intimate, commanding rumble meant only for you. His hand, which had stilled, resumed its slow, kneading motion on your chest, as he lowered his head. White hair brushing your neck as his breath ghosted over your tits, "We have an audience."
Without breaking his suction on your sensitive peak, his hands shifted. One arm hooked under your back, the other beneath your knees, and with a startling and effortless strength that belied the image of the silent nerd you had always been presumptuous about, Satoshi flipped you.
The world spun for a dizzying second, as the Star Wars poster blurred, then resolved. Now you were facing the door, facing the desk. And facing Satoru.
Your back was pressed flush against Satoshi's front, his hard length a searing brand against the curve of your ass. His arms came around you, crossing over your bare stomach, holding you securely in place against him.
"Look at him, baby," Satoshi breathed into your ear, his voice thick with his own arousal and a newfound, exhibitionist boldness. His large hands slid up, covering your tits completely, palming and squeezing the soft flesh. He plucked at your nipples, rolling the stiffened, moistened peaks between his thumbs and forefingers, presenting them like an offering, "See? Look at what we've got here, Satoru. God, they're so perfect, aren't they?"
His tone was a mix of reverence and blatant boasting. He was showing off his discovery, his prize, to the only other person in the world whose opinion might matter.
From his chair, Satoru released a sharp and appreciative exhale. His eyes were locked on his twin's hands moulding over your breasts. You watched, mesmerised and mortified and impossibly turned-on, as Satoru's own hand disappeared into the waistband of his low-slung jeans. You could see the deliberate movement of his forearm, the shift of fabric.
"Fuck, yeah, they are," your best friend agreed, his voice worn down to gravel. He wasn't just watching anymore, no. He was participating, for the rhythmic motion of his fist beneath the denim was unmistakable. "Always knew it. Knew you'd be hiding a killer rack beneath those pretty sweaters, sweetheart. Fuckin' spectacular."
Hearing the crude, familiar praise from Satoru's cocky lips, your best friend, the object of a years long crush, while pinned against his brilliant, dominant twin sent a violent shudder through you. A fresh wave of wetness soaked through your already damp underwear, a slick and hot confession Satoshi would undoubtedly feel against his own clothed hard-on.
"She's dripping," Satoshi murmured, his voice smug against your ear, glasses slipping down his hawkish nose. He kissed the junction of your neck and shoulder, teeth delicately bruising the sensitive skin there, "Can you see how pretty she is? All flushed and desperate?"
"I can, fuck — I can see that," Satoru gritted out. His breathing was becoming uneven, matching the pace of his hidden strokes as his hips began to roll at a grinding pace. "Quit teasing, man. Get to the good part, touch her."
Satoshi snickered, "So impatient. Always rushing." But he obeyed, adjusting his grip. His large hands slid from your breasts, down the quivering plane of your stomach, leaving trails of fire. They hooked into the lace band of your panties.
"Lift your hips, baby," he commanded softly. You did, a helpless puppet to his will. He drew the scrap of fabric down, slowly, torturously, over the plump swell of your mound, past the neat thatch of hair. The cool air hit your exposed folds, making you gasp. He didn't remove them completely, just tugged them down to mid-thigh, leaving you obscenely open.
Then, with a clinical precision that was devastatingly erotic, Satoshi used his thumbs. He parted you, spreading your slick, swollen lips wide, exposing the glistening, winking core of you to the room’s light and to Satoru's hungry stare.
"There," Satoshi murmured, his own breath coming faster, his throat bobbing, "Look at that. So wet. All for us."
From the chair, there was a choked-off groan. Satoru's fist was moving faster now, a frantic rhythm visible through the denim. His other hand gripped the back of the chair, knuckles white. "God, fuck," he panted. "Hurry the fuck up. Make her cum."
Satoshi grunted, a sound of strained patience, scowling at his brother. "I told you. Be patient. She's not going anywhere." But his own control was fraying. You could feel the tremble in the arms wrapped around you, the ragged puff of his breath against your neck.
He kept you spread open for another long, excruciating moment, letting Satoru, and you, see everything. Then, finally, one of his thumbs left its post. It trailed downward, through your drenched folds, gathering slickness, before circling your clit with a firm, knowing pressure.
A broken cry tore from your throat. Your head fell back against Satoshi's shoulder, your eyes squeezing shut as pleasure, sharp and electric, jolted through you.
"Eyes open, baby," Satoshi ordered, his voice rough, "Look at him. Watch him watch you come apart."
Forcing your eyes open was a Herculean effort. Through a haze of lust, you met Satoru's gaze. He was staring, transfixed, at the place where his brother's thumb worked you over. His own hand was a blur now, his hips pumping slightly into his fist. He looked utterly wrecked, a mirror of your own unraveling, white hair mussed as he sunk a fang down on his lower lip, muffling his moans.
"That's it," Satoru urged, his voice a hoarse whisper, "Just like that. Fuck, look at her. C'mon, 'Toshi, give her more."
Satoshi, done waiting, done teasing, finally sank one long, clever digit deep inside you. A perfect invasion, as Satoshi's finger, long and dexterous, the one of a theorist who solved complex equations in his head, slid into your sopping heat with no resistance, burying itself to the knuckle in one smooth, devastating stroke. A wet, obscene squelch filled the quiet room, louder than any moan.
"Fuck," you sobbed, your body bowing against his chest, back arching as your tits pushed out.
Satoshi didn't pause. He began to move, a slow, deep, piston-like rhythm that was ruthlessly efficient. His other thumb continued its relentless circles on your clit, the dual assault short-circuiting all coherent thought. You were reduced to sensation: the scratch of his blue cable-knit sweater against your bare back, the faint, clean scent of laundry detergent and him, the fogged lenses of his glasses as he watched his own hand disappear into you with a focused, academic intensity.
The quiet twin was conducting an experiment, and you were his glorious, messy result.
"So tight, you know I've never done this before," he murmured, his voice a low rasp against your ear, "And so deep. You're taking me so well."
He crooked his finger, searching, and found that spot that made you see stars. You shrieked, your nails digging into the thick thighs bracketing you.
From his chair, Satoru let out a guttural sound. The rhythmic motion of his fist under his jeans had become frantic, desperate. He was leaning forward now, elbows on his knees, his gaze fever-bright and fixed on the junction of your bodies, on his brother's wrist moving in and out of your glistening cunt.
"God, you're so wet, I can see it from here," Satoru gasped, his voice strained. He ran a hand through his artfully messy white hair, leaving it standing on end. The thin gold chain around his neck glinted under the desk lamp. The tight white tee stretched across the defined planes of his chest and shoulders, damp with a light sweat, "Fuck, sweetheart. I’m gonna…Can I? Can I come on you?"
The request was raw, filthy, stripped of all your best friend's usual bravado. It was pure, unadulterated need.
You couldn't form words. You just nodded frantically, a desperate, pleading moan ripping from your throat as Satoshi added a second finger, stretching you exquisitely, the wet sounds growing louder, more vulgar.
"She says yes," Satoshi interpreted, his own breath coming in harsh pants. He was losing his clinical composure, his thrusts becoming harder, faster, "Do it. Mark her."
With a ragged shout that was half curse, half prayer, Satoru shoved his jeans down over his hips just enough. His cock sprang free, thick and flushed and already leaking. His fist flew over his length, his eyes locked on your face, then dropping to your tits, which were jiggling with every one of Satoshi’s deep drives.
"On your tits," Satoru groaned, the words slurred with pleasure. "Gonna' paint those perfect tits, sweetheart. Fuck, fuck —!"
His climax hit him like a train. Satoru's body tensed, a corded muscle sculpture in the lamplight, and with a final, choked cry, thick, hot ropes of cum shot across the space between you. They landed on your stomach, your heaving breasts, striping your skin with pearlescent streaks. One particularly forceful jet hit your nipple, and the sensation, the shocking heat, the sheer taboo of it, made you convulse around Satoshi's fingers, earning a hiss from the other twin.
Satoru slumped back in the chair, breathing like he'd just finished a sprint, a dazed, satiated grin spreading across his face, "Holy shit," he panted, two flushed rounds of colour painted over his handsome features.
Before you could even process the new, sticky warmth on your skin, Satoru was moving again. He surged up from the chair, his jeans still around his thighs, and closed the distance between you in two strides. He didn't hesitate. One hand, still slightly sticky, cupped your cheek. The other braced on the headboard behind you.
Then he kissed you.
It was nothing like Satoshi’s intense, clumsy initial kisses. This was all Satoru. Confident, demanding, flavoured with cheap beer and victory, and a hint of some sweet candy he was always carrying around in his pocket.
His tongue plunged into your mouth, claiming it with the same easy arrogance he claimed everything else. You could taste his sweat, his exhilaration. The thin gold chain brushed cold against your collarbone. Your senses were overwhelmed, Satoshi's fingers fucking you deep, Satoru's tongue in your mouth, the smell of sex and Oreos and cologne in the air.
"Knew you'd be this fucking hot," Satoru mumbled against your lips between searing kisses, "Knew it. God, look at you. Taking my brother's fingers like a champ. Wearing my load."
His words, the possessive feel of both twins on you and in you, tipped you over the edge. The coil in your belly, wound impossibly tight by Satoshi's expert, relentless attention, finally snapped.
A sound tore from you that was neither a scream nor a moan but something primal, something that started in your toes and erupted from your throat. Your back arched violently off Satoshi's chest. Your inner walls clamped down on his buried fingers in a series of frantic, fluttering pulses. And then, with a gushing, uncontrollable rush, you squirted.
Hot liquid soaked Satoshi's hand, his wrist, the bedspread beneath you. It wasn't a trickle; it was a release, a soaking wave of pleasure that left you trembling and boneless. Satoshi groaned, a deep, shattered sound, and pressed his face into your neck, his fingers still working you gently through the aftershocks, milking every last drop.
Satoru broke the kiss, pulling back to watch, his blue eyes wide with awe and a fresh, rekindled hunger, "No fuckin' way," he breathed, a laugh of pure disbelief bubbling out of him. "You are full of surprises, sweetheart."
And for a long, breathless moment, the only sounds were the ragged symphony of your breathing and the wet, soft sound of Satoshi's fingers slowly sliding out of your spent cunt.
Then the spell broke.
"My turn," Satoru announced, his voice still rough but regaining its characteristic swagger. He wiped his hand on his thigh, his gaze fixed on you with a possessive heat that made your oversensitive nerves twitch back to life, "Come on. That's my best friend right there. I think I can handle my girl."
Satoshi's arms tightened around you, a low growl vibrating against your back, a hint of brotherly annoyance colouring his voice, "What? Don't be an idiot. I kissed her first, and I can fuck that pretty pussy way better than you can."
"Bullshit," Satoru shot back, a competitive grin spreading across his face. He took a step closer, his discarded jeans now pooled around his ankles, his cock already half-hard again and glistening, "You can calculate the density of a neutron star and all that shit, bro. I know how to make a woman scream."
"Your empirical evidence is based on wasted sorority girls who can’t tell the difference between enthusiasm and skill."
"Oh, fuck you– "
"That's the general idea, but not for you."
They were glaring at each other over your shoulder, a lifetime of sibling rivalry igniting in the most absurd, heated context imaginable. You, slick and trembling and pinned between them, felt a hysterical laugh bubble in your throat. It came out as a weak, overwhelmed whimper.
The sound snapped their attention back to you. Two pairs of identical, blazing blue eyes locked onto your face.
Satoru's expression softened, just a fraction. He reached out, his thumb, sticky with his own drying release, brushing over your swollen lower lip, "Hey. You okay? You're shaking."
Satoshi nuzzled into your hair, his voice dropping to that intimate rumble, "Tell us what you want. Just say the word and he leaves. Or I'll leave."
The offer hung in the air. You could have either of them. The wild, glorious sun or the deep, consuming moon. The choice was yours.
Your body, however, had already decided. The empty, aching throb between your legs wasn't asking for one. It was screaming for more, so much more.
"Both," you whispered, the word barely audible.
Satoru's eyebrows shot up. Satoshi went very still behind you.
"What was that, sweetheart?" Satoru asked, shaking his soft, white head of hair.
You swallowed, finding your voice. It came out stronger, laced with a need that shocked even you, "Both. I want…I want both of you."
A slow, eager smile spread across Satoru's handsome face, a mirror of the dawning and intense spark in Satoshi's eyes. The previous rivalry melted, replaced by a unified and predatory focus.
"Okay, okay," Satoru breathed, like he'd just been handed the winning play, "Fine. Both it is."
He moved with practiced ease, stepping out of his jeans completely. He sat back on the edge of Satoshi's bed, scooting until his back was against the headboard. The Star Wars poster loomed behind his head like a benediction. He patted his thighs, "Up here. Straddle me. Let me see you sittin' all pretty on me, yeah?"
You clumsily extricated yourself from Satoshi's embrace. His hands lingered on your hips, guiding you as you turned and climbed onto the bed, your knees sinking into the mattress on either side of Satoru's hips. The movement smeared the mess of cum and squirt already on your skin. Satoru's gaze dropped, watching the slick shine between your thighs with avid hunger.
He reached out and gave your ass a sharp, stinging slap. The sound cracked in the quiet room. You yelped, more from surprise than pain, and fresh wetness trickled down your inner thigh.
"Look at that," Satoru murmured, his hand smoothing over the reddening print, messily spreading the fluids, "Fucking perfect." Then his eyes lifted to yours, and the bravado flickered, revealing a sliver of genuine concern, "Is this okay, sweetheart? This…all of this? Is this alright?"
The question, so tender amidst the filth, undid you. You nodded frantically, leaning forward to kiss him, tasting yourself and him on his lips, "Yes," you gasped against his mouth, "Yes, I want more. Please."
"Good girl," he growled, his mouth slanting against yours, hard, tongue sliding through your parted lips.
From behind you, there was the distinct, crinkling tear of foil. You glanced over your shoulder. Satoshi stood beside the bed, having retrieved a condom from somewhere, his desk drawer, perhaps. He was rolling it down his length with meticulous care, his glasses perched on his nose, his blue sweater still on, making him look like a debauched professor. His eyes met yours, dark with promise. And still, there was that adorable flush on his cheeks, pink watercolour over cream.
Satoru, meanwhile, fumbled in the pocket of his discarded jeans, which were tangled on the floor. He pulled out not one, but two foil squares, flashing you a triumphant grin, "Always prepared," as he ducked your playful swat. He sheathed himself quickly, his movements impatient.
He gripped your hips, his fingers digging in. "Ready?" he asked, his voice thick. You nodded, bracing your hands on his shoulders. You felt the broad, blunt head of his cock nudge against your soaked entrance.
Satoru didn't make you do the work. With a grunt, he lifted his hips and pulled you down at the same time, sheathing himself inside you in one deep, relentless thrust.
"Fuck!" you cried out, the stretch exquisite, familiar yet new. He filled you completely, the angle different from Satoshi's fingers, claiming you in a way that felt fundamentally Satoru. Immediate, overwhelming, and gloriously intense.
"God, you're tight, and so fuckin' wet," he groaned, his head falling back against the headboard, "So fucking good. Okay, 'Toshi. Your turn. Be gentle with our girl."
You felt Satoshi's weight dip the mattress behind you. His hands, cool and sure, spread your ass cheeks. There was a pause, the press of something much larger and blunter than a finger against your other, untouched hole, slickened by the mixed fluids smeared there.
"Breathe out, baby," Satoshi instructed softly, his voice the calm in the storm, "And relax."
You exhaled, forcing your muscles to unclench. He pushed forward, slow, inexorable, a burning, stretching pressure that stole the air from your lungs. It hurt, a sharp, bright sting, before melting into a deep, impossible fullness as he seated himself fully inside you.
You were split open, impaled on both twins, stuffed so completely you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. A choked, guttural sound was torn from your throat, a noise of pure, overwhelmed sensation.
Satoru's eyes were wide, his mouth agape as he felt Satoshi's intrusion through the thin barrier of your shared walls, "Holy shit," he rasped. "I can feel you. I can feel him."
Satoshi grimaced, "Don't say that shit, man," But he let out a shaky, shattered breath, his forehead dropping between your shoulder blades. "Move," he gritted out, "Or I will."
Satoru, never one to back down from a challenge, obeyed. He rocked his hips upward, and the world dissolved into a cascade of blinding, contradictory sensation, the drag and fill of Satoru in your pussy, the burning, stretching fullness of Satoshi in your ass. They set a rhythm, hesitant at first, then faster, deeper, finding a syncopated pace that drove you up the bed with every thrust.
Satoru's gold chain swung and slapped against your chest with each drive. Satoshi's sweater scratched your back, his quiet grunts hot in your ear. The bed, Satoshi's perfectly ordered bed, slammed against the wall with a rhythmic, protesting thump-thump-thump! that matched the pounding of your heart.
The rhythm was brutal, perfect, and utterly consuming. Satoru's thrusts were powerful, athletic drives that punched the air from your lungs, while Satoshi's were deeper, slower, more deliberate, each one a calculated invasion that stretched you to a breathtaking limit. You were the fulcrum between them, a trembling bridge of pleasured flesh and sensation.
"Fuck, she's so tight like this, bro," Satoru grunted, his hands vice-like on your hips, guiding your bounces on his cock. Sweat gleamed on his temples, dampening the white hair at his forehead. His gold chain swung wildly, catching the light with every snap of his hips, "Can you feel him? Can you feel me hitting right against him?"
You could. The pressure was immense, a dual fullness that bordered on delicious pain before tipping over into mindless pleasure with every synchronised push. A garbled, affirmative sob was all you could manage, "Yes, yes! Ah - I can feel you both! Don't stop!"
Satoshi groaned behind you, his voice a strained rasp against the shell of your ear, "Yeah, you like when we've got you pinned up like this? Fuckin' nasty girl, been wanting this forever," He shifted his angle slightly, and the head of his cock dragged over a spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyelids.
"Ohh! Satoshi!"
"There?" The quieter of the brothers murmured, doing it again, a precise, devastating rub, "Good."
"Hey, quit hogging the good spots, bro," Satoru complained, but his grin was feral. He leaned up, capturing your mouth in a sloppy, breath-stealing kiss. You could taste the beer on his tongue, the salt of his sweat. "She's mine too. Aren't you, sweetheart? My best fucking friend." He punctuated the claim with a particularly deep thrust that made you break the kiss with a cry.
"Yours," you gasped, as his cock kissed the sweet spot in your wet, pulsing cunt, the word fracturing. "Both, yours – "
"Damn right," Satoru growled, his composure fraying. His pace became erratic, frantic, "Gonna' fill this cunt for you. Gonna' mark you up inside. 'Toshi, you close?"
Behind you, Satoshi’s breathing was ragged, his usual quiet control shattered. His thrusts lost their mathematical precision, becoming just as hungry, just as desperate. The rough wool of his sweater was soaked through with sweat where your back pressed against him, "Yeah, I'm e-exceedingly close," he managed, his voice thick, "Her body is...incredibly receptive."
"Yeah, no shit, fuckin' nerd," Satoru complained, but there was no real animosity behind the shattered laugh, the sound breathless, "Come on, sweet girl. Come with us. Let go. Soak our cocks real good."
The command, the overwhelming sensation of being claimed and used and cherished by both of them, broke the last dam. Your third orgasm tore through you, silent at first, a full-body seizure, your internal muscles clamping down in violent, fluttering spasms around both invading lengths, before a raw, broken scream was ripped from your throat.
That was all it took.
Satoru shouted, a loud, uninhibited roar, his hips stuttering as he buried himself to the hilt and held there, pulsing hotly into the condom deep inside you. The feeling of him coming triggered his twin, who let out a choked, guttural sound that was nothing like his usual voice. Satoshi pressed his face into your neck, his body going rigid as he emptied himself with a series of sharp, shallow thrusts.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of three bodies gasping for air, the room hazy with sex and sweat and spent passion. And then, the inevitable collapse.
Satoru's arms gave out first. He slumped back against the headboard, his grip on your hips loosening. Satoshi, with a final, shuddering exhale, carefully pulled out of you. The sudden emptiness was a shock, a cool void where there had been overwhelming heat. You simply folded forward, boneless, sinking into the soft, now thoroughly wrecked sheets of Satoshi’s bed. You were aware of sticky dampness everywhere, the ache of deep, pleasurable and thorough use, and a floating, satiated exhaustion that weighed down your very bones.
The silence stretched, comfortable and heavy. It was broken by Satoshi clearing his throat. He had already disposed of his condom and was pulling his sweater back into some semblance of order, though his hair was a disaster and his glasses were still fogged, slipping down his nose.
"Alright," he said, his voice returning to its normal, dry timbre. He nudged Satoru's leg with his foot. "Out. Go clean yourself up. This is my room."
Satoru, who had been lying with his eyes closed, a blissed-out smile on his face, cracked one eye open. "Wow. Let a guy fuck his girl, and toss him out. Classy."
"You have your own room. With your own mess. This – ," Satoshi gestured vaguely at the climax-striped sheets, the overturned plate of Oreo crumbs now scattered on the floor, the general aura of debauchery, your top still sprawled over the floor, " – is my mess. I'll deal with it. Go."
With a long, dramatic sigh that was entirely performative, Satoru sat up. He dealt with his own condom, then reached for his jeans, hopping on one foot as he tugged them on. He didn't bother with the boxers still somewhere on the floor, ignoring Satoshi's disgusted scowl. "Fine, fine. The walk of shame. This is a new low." He shot you a wink as he fastened his jeans, "Worth it, though."
He leaned over the bed, brushing a sweaty strand of hair from your forehead, "You're a legend, sweetheart. Get some rest." Satoru dropped a quick, surprisingly soft kiss on your temple, a flicker of something raw and unguarded loaded with the history of companionship that his brother lacked with you, before straightening up.
With a final smirk at his brother, Satoru sauntered out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
The quiet settled back in, deeper now. You felt the mattress dip as Satoshi lay down beside you. He didn't pull you to him immediately. Instead, he just looked at you, his gaze thoughtful behind his cleaned glasses. Then he leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to the side of your neck, right over a mark you were sure he'd left earlier.
"He'll be back,” Satoshi sighed, his lips moving against your skin, tracing sweet patterns with his tongue, glasses nudging against your shoulder. His arm slid under you, drawing you gently against his side. The cable-knit sweater was scratchy, but his body was warm. "Probably with food. Or more beer. No doubt."
Enjin is a freak. Hair grabbing, spitting in your mouth and on your pussy, sucking on your toes when your legs are chilling on his shoulders, suck his dick while he's on the phone, eat his own cum out of your pussy, tie him up, blindfold him, loves creampie-ing you, wanna try anal he's down for it and you just know he doesn't shut up at all during all of this. Dirty talk, talking you through it or just straight up talking.
꒰ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴍᴘɪᴇ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ when enjin sees your fat pussy jiggle he has to breed it. — cw ; multiple rounds, dirty talk, breeding kink
enjin couldn’t keep his hands off you. it didn’t matter how many times he’d fucked you that week or that day. the second you walked past him in those little shorts — ass soft and bouncing, thick thighs rubbing together like they were begging for attention — he was already hard.
“where you think you’re goin’, baby?” he drawled from the couch, hand palming his growing bulge. “wearing that around me like it ain’t a threat.”
you giggled, tossing him a look over your shoulder. “just getting some water.”
he was behind you in seconds. big tattooed hands engulfing your hips. his cock already stiff and pressed against your ass as he buried his face in your neck.
“enjin.”
“don’t start with me,” he growled roughly. “you walk around with that fat pussy jiggling, and you expect me not to wreck it?”
you were dripping before he even bent you over the counter, because you knew what came next. he loved how soft you were. loved your belly, your thick thighs, your plush little pussy that swallowed his cock like it was made for him. always soaking, always warm, always clenching like it didn’t wanna let him go.
and enjin? he never wanted to leave. not when you sounded like that. whimpering and gasping as he sank into you, fat cunt stretching around his girth with obscene, wet squelches.
“fuck,” he grunted, bottoming out with a groan. “you feel that, baby? how your pussy just pulls me in?”
your voice was already shaking. “e-enjin, slow down.”
“why?” he snarled, fucking into you harder. “when this greedy fuckin’ hole keeps takin’ me so good?”
he watched your ass jiggle with every thrust, watched his cock disappear into your soaked heat, watched creamy slick coat the insides of your thighs and it broke him. he grabbed your waist, dragging you back onto him rougher, deeper. “gonna fill you up, baby. stretch that fat little pussy until it leaks for me.”
you moaned wantonly loud. because you loved it when he talked like that, filthy and desperate and ruined just from the way your body felt around his cock.
“wanna knock you up every time i see you,” he gritted, rutting into you with brutal need. “that what you want? you want me to breed this pussy, huh?” you were shaking and gasping now. “say it.”
“y-yes enjin. want your cum. want it in me.” you sobbed.
he snapped. with a guttural moan and a final, punishing thrust he buried himself to the hilt. his cock twitched once, twice, before he blew a thick, hot load into you. rope after rope of cum flooding your insides until it was spilling out around his cock, dripping onto the floor. he didn’t pull out yet as his wide palms cupped your ass. his fingers slid down to catch the mess.
“don’t move, baby. not done yet. gotta fuck it back in.” enjin hummed against your ear as he rolled his hips slowly, forcing his cock deeper into your oversensitive, stuffed pussy. “can’t waste a fuckin’ drop. you think i’m playin’, sweetheart?”
you let out a broken gasp, hands trembling against the countertop. “enjin, t-too much—”
he grabbed your hips and pulled you back, rough and greedy, his cock still nestled inside you to the hilt. you could feel your mixed arousal oozing out around him with every subtle motion. his cum, still thick and hot, dripping down your thighs.
“too much?” he repeated. “you gave me this fat little pussy and told me it was mine, didn’t you?”
he fucked into you with a sharp thrust once, hard enough to make you cry out and jolt forward.
“that’s what happens, baby. i warned you i was greedy,” he groaned, teeth grazing your skin. “now take it like the filthy little thing you are.”
your whole body trembled. he was leaking inside you, still so full, so hard and so desperate. every slow, punishing thrust made your overstimulated cunt squeeze down like it didn’t know the difference between pain and pleasure anymore. but enjin knew exactly what your body was saying, because it was soaked and twitching. dripping with his cum and still spreading for him like you couldn’t get enough.
“your mouth’s a fuckin’ liar,” he rasped, pulling back just to slam into you again. “but your cunt? your cunt’s begging for me.”
you moaned loudly, helplessly, as he wrapped one hand around your throat and pulled you upright. your back hit his, slick with sweat, chest and his other hand drifted down your belly.
“look at this soft little stomach,” he murmured, nuzzling into your hair. “you know how many times i’ve imagined it round with my kid?”
your breath caught. he rubbed slow circles across your lower belly. his hips still rocked against you with deep, possessive thrust - each one ached with need, and heat.
“stuffed you full already,” he groaned. “but i wanna see it take. wanna watch this pussy get fat with my load and keep it.”
you whimpered completely wrecked and enjin snapped. twirling you around he grabbed you under the thighs and lifts you like you weighed nothing. he lowered you down on the couch and opened your thighs wide. legs shaking he showed no mercy as his slick cock pressed right back into your dripping hole. you weren’t even sure if he’d ever left.
he looked downright wild as his gold eyes met yours. wild, deranged, but also so worshipful as his hand slid over your soft body.
“look at you,” he murmured softly. “messy, swollen, so pretty like this.”
you whimpered again, back arching as he rolled his hips. “enjin.”
he slid a hand down your thigh, gripping your flesh tight. “one more, baby. i’ll make it deep. i’ll mark you up good.” and when he slowly sank back into your fat little pussy, his voice turned rough with devotion, “gonna fuck you until all you feel is me.”
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