c0rvid

There’s nothing in the world that gets him harder than sinking his cock down your tight throat and fucking your mouth like a second pussy. He’ll lounge back against the headboard, one tattooed hand lazily tangled in your hair, golden eyes half-lidded and that shit-eating grin carved deep into his cheeks while he guides you exactly how he wants it—slow and sloppy at first, then ruthless when you start to drool. 

He loves the way your throat bulges, the wet gagging sounds, the tears that spill when he holds you down just a little too long. He’ll buck up lazily, chasing that tight heat, cursing low and filthy when you swallow around him. And when he finally spills down your throat? He keeps you there, grinding through it with a low groan, making sure you take every drop like the good little barrack bunny you are. 

But when he does eat you? He’s mean and greedy about it. 

You never see it coming. One minute you’re teasing him—maybe straddling his lap in the common room after everyone else has crashed, grinding against the growing bulge in his pants just to watch those golden eyes darken. The next, he’s got you pinned on your back on the nearest flat surface, knees shoved up to your chest, his broad shoulders keeping you spread open. 

Enjin doesn’t tease. He devours. 

His mouth is hot and relentless, tongue dragging through your folds like he’s starving, sucking hard on your clit until your hips jerk and you’re crying out. He’ll growl against your soaked cunt when you try to close your thighs, strong tattooed hands gripping harder, holding you wide open so he can bury his face deeper. Two thick fingers curl inside you without warning, pumping mercilessly while his tongue flicks and laps at your clit in messy, greedy strokes. 

He eats you like he’s trying to ruin you—loud, wet, obscene sounds filling the room as he sucks and licks and fucks you with his fingers and tongue. He’ll pull back just when you’re about to tip over, grinning that infuriating dimpled smirk while you whine and try to chase his mouth. 

When he finally lets you tip over the edge, he doesn’t stop. He keeps going—greedy, mean, overstimulating you through it until you’re shaking and sobbing, thighs trembling around his head. Only then does he pull back, lips shiny and chin wet, looking far too pleased with himself as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

__________________________

Zanka:  Zanka also prefers to be eaten. Finally using your mouth for something other than teasing him with your bratty quips. 

He’s not as openly cocky as Enjin, but there’s a quiet intensity to it that makes it even hotter. He’ll sit on the edge of his bed or lean back against the wall in some shadowed corner of HQ, legs spread just enough for you to settle between them. One hand rests on the back of your head—firm but not forceful—guiding you slowly down his cock with that familiar stern expression. 

His lips press into a tight, controlled line, navy eyes locked on yours like he’s trying to prove he’s completely unaffected. But his leaking cock gives him away, twitching hard against your tongue every time you swirl it around the head or take him deeper. The faint flush creeping up his neck and the way his fingers tighten in your hair betray how much he’s fighting not to thrust up into your warm, wet mouth. 

He loves the eye contact, even if he denies it—those big, watery eyes looking up at him while your lips stretch around him. It makes him feel in control, even when his cock is leaking steadily down your throat and his breathing starts to hitch. He won’t moan loudly, but you’ll catch the quiet, shaky exhales and the way his abs tense under your hands. 

But when he does eat you? He’s totally mean about it—in that stubborn, childish Zanka way. 

He’s weirdly squeamish about going down on a woman, muttering about how it’s “gross” or “not necessary” even while his fingers are already buried inside you. He prefers using those long, bony fingers—fucking them past your folds with precise, almost clinical strokes, calloused pad grinding firm circles against your clit when he feels like being generous. 

You’ll be spread open on his lap or pinned beneath him, whimpering and rocking against his hand while he watches your face with that stern, slightly flushed expression. Complaining that you’re squirming too much.  

Only when you start begging—really begging, praising him in that breathy voice he secretly craves—does he finally relent. Despite complaining about how much of a spoiled brat you are and that this is just to shut you up.  

But once his mouth is on you? The complaints don’t stop, even as his lips attach to your clit in gentle, almost reverent sucks. He’ll grumble between licks, while his tongue flicks and circles with surprising skill, fingers still pumping steadily. He acts like he’s doing you a huge favor, but the way he presses his face closer, the soft hums vibrating against you, and how he refuses to stop even after you’ve come once tell a different story. 

He’s mean in his reluctance, but thorough once he gives in. And the whole time he’s eating you out, he’ll keep that tight-lipped control—until you praise him again, then watch his ears turn red as he doubles his efforts just to shut you up. 

____________________

Gris: Gris lives for your pleasure. 

Of course, he likes having you between his legs like any other man—those big, calloused hands gently guiding your head as you take him into your mouth, his low, rumbling groans vibrating through his chest while he praises you in that deep, steady voice. But it’s never his main focus. 

There’s something about watching you fall apart for him that hits different. That’s where he truly thrives. 

He’s more than happy to spend hours between your plump thighs while you lay comfy on his bed, completely relaxed and taken care of. Gris will kneel right at the edge of the frame, broad shoulders settled between your spread legs, giving you the entire bed to sprawl out on. No rush. No selfishness. Just pure, focused devotion to making you feel good. 

He starts slow and thorough—large hands gripping the soft meat of your thighs, holding you open as he kisses and nips along your inner legs, working his way up until his warm breath fans over your already slick folds. When his mouth finally closes over you, it’s with a deep, satisfied hum, like he’s the one being fed after a long mission. 

Gris doesn’t tease for the sake of being mean. He teases because he wants to draw every little sound, every shiver, every roll of your hips out of you. His tongue is broad and patient—long, slow licks through your folds, circling your clit with just the right pressure, then dipping inside you like he can’t get enough of your taste. He’ll suck gently on your clit, then firmer when your fingers thread desperately into his blond hair. 

He can stay down there for ages, strong arms wrapped around your thighs to keep you anchored while you squirm and cry out. When you get close he doesn’t pull away—he doubles down, groaning encouragingly into your pussy as you come on his tongue, working you through it with steady, relentless strokes until you’re shaking and oversensitive. 

And even then? He doesn’t stop right away. He’ll keep licking you softly, almost reverently, cleaning you up while you catch your breath, pressing gentle kisses to your inner thighs and mound like he’s worshipping you. 

Only when you’re boneless and glowing does he finally rise, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before crawling up the bed to pull you into his arms. Then he’ll kiss your forehead, voice low and warm against your hair and praise you about how well you did for him.

_______________________________

Follo: Poor Follo can’t decide. 

He loves the feeling of sinking into your soft throat, rutting into your mouth like a desperate mutt in heat—whining and panting, hips jerking forward in short, eager thrusts while his honey brown eyes flutter half-shut in bliss. But he also loves having his head between your thighs, lapping at your clit with such ferocity it makes your head spin. The way he buries his face in your pussy, moaning like he’s the one getting spoiled, tongue working desperately against your swollen clit and slick folds. 

So most nights, you two end up in a messy, eager sixty-nine—with Follo on top so he can have the best of both worlds. 

He’ll crawl over you with that needy, flushed expression, sharp black bangs falling into his eyes as he swings a leg over your head. The second his cock slides past your lips he lets out a broken little whimper, hips already twitching forward, chasing the wet heat of your mouth. At the same time, he drops his face between your spread thighs like a man starved, arms wrapping around your hips to pull your pussy flush against his mouth. 

Follo doesn’t do anything halfway. While he’s fucking your throat in shallow, greedy rolls of his hips—leaking steadily, balls brushing the bridge of your nose—he’s devouring your cunt like it’s oxygen. His tongue is relentless: messy, wet circles around your clit, long licks through your folds, sucking noisily whenever your thighs start to tremble. He moans and whines the whole time, the vibrations shooting straight through you, hips stuttering harder every time you gag or swallow around him. 

You're just along for the ride—a warm, slick hole for that eager, puppy-like boy as he devours you completely, from top to bottom.

He sets the pace—frantic and needy—rocking between your mouth and your pussy like he can’t decide which feels better. Hands usually ending up gripping your thighs hard enough to leave marks, holding you right where he wants you while he loses himself completely. 

When he gets close he gets even sloppier, face pressed so tight against your cunt he can barely breathe, tongue flicking wildly over your clit as he fucks your throat with desperate little snaps of his hips. 

He’ll whimper against your pussy about being close, the words vibrating deliciously before he tips over the edge with a muffled, broken cry, spilling hot down your throat while he keeps licking you through your own orgasm like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. 

Even after he finishes, Follo stays buried between your thighs for a while longer—nuzzling, licking softly, pressing lazy kisses to your oversensitive clit like he just can’t help himself. 

______________________________

Bro:  Bro is the perfect mix of Gris and Follo. 

He truly loves eating you out. At thirty-five, the massive Cleaner knows exactly how to make you cum—how to work that huge tongue in ways that leave you shaking and sobbing. But none of that experience stops him from devouring you like a starving man who’s finally found salvation between your thighs. 

He eats you with the raw, passionate hunger of an inexperienced teenager—long, dragging licks of that broad tongue from your entrance all the way up to your clit, groaning deep in his chest like your taste is the best thing he’s ever had. His hands grip your ass or thighs with reverent strength, pulling you closer as he laps messily and noisily. Sucking gently on your folds before flicking that thick tongue against your swollen clit over and over. 

He’ll rumble, voice low and commanding, that you sit on his face.  He doesn’t ask. He demands it. No matter how embarrassed the position makes you, no matter how much you hesitate—he’ll simply grab your hips and pull you down until you’re properly smothering him. 

And once you’re there? He’s in heaven. 

Bro’s huge tongue works you relentlessly—long, fat licks that cover your entire pussy, swirling around your clit before dipping inside you. He moans and hums the whole time, the vibrations shooting through your core as he eats you like he’ll die if he stops. His massive cock is rock hard and leaking profusely in his pants, throbbing painfully against the fabric, but he couldn’t care less. He won’t let you touch it. Growling against your dripping cunt if you try to reach for him, his focus wanting to be solely on you.  

When the orgasms start hitting you hard and you eventually fall forward, exhausted and trembling against his broad chest, Bro simply wraps one massive arm around your waist and holds you there— trapping you against his warm, solid body. His other hand stays on your ass, guiding you to keep grinding against his face while he continues slurping and sucking on your clit like it’s his favorite treat. 

He won’t stop until he’s satisfied. Until your thighs are shaking uncontrollably and you’ve lost count of how many times he’s made you cum. Only then will he finally ease up, pressing soft, almost apologetic kisses to your oversensitive pussy before gently maneuvering you off his face. 

__________________________________

Tamsy:  Honestly? Tamsy doesn’t actually care for either. 

What he does care about is the psychological edge. The delicious power of having you completely at his mercy, whether you’re choking on his cock or falling apart under his fingers. He thrives on control, on watching that sharp, bratty mouth of yours reduced to desperate, broken sounds. 

When you’re on your knees for him, he’s merciless in the most elegant way possible. He’ll hold you down on his cock with one graceful hand tangled in your hair, forcing every inch down your throat until your cheeks burn red and your eyes water. Your fists pound weakly against his thighs while he coos at how cute your fighting is, in that velvet-smooth voice, golden eyes half-lidded with dark satisfaction. 

He keeps you there right on the edge—until your vision starts to blur and your lungs scream—only releasing you at the very last second. He watches impassively as you pull off gasping, coughing, and sucking in desperate gulps of air. Saliva drips down your chin while you struggle to recover, him just watching you with that soft innocent smile of his while his eyes beam with sadistic cruelty under long lashes.

When it’s your turn to be on the receiving end, he’s even more devastating. 

He’ll have your arms bound tightly behind your back, face pressed flush into his mattress as he fingers you with cruel precision. Two elegant fingers curling perfectly against that spot inside you, over and over, until you’re squirting all over his hand and the sheets. He doesn’t stop. He keeps going—pulling orgasm after squirting orgasm from your exhausted body until you’re delirious, shaking, and babbling from dehydration and overstimulation. 

Only when you’re truly begging for mercy, voice hoarse and broken, does he finally give you something new. 

He’ll hook his thumb into your ass, using it as leverage to yank your hips higher. Then that refined, angelic mouth latches onto your abused clit in a nasty, messy suck—tongue swirling and lips slurping loudly, completely at odds with his usual pristine image. The contrast is filthy and overwhelming. He’ll keep that thumb buried deep, tugging and pressing while he devours you until you’re screaming into the sheets.

he can't help the (almost) quiet squeal that leaves him before he delicately drapes himself on top of your fabric covered silhouette. one arm laying over your waist the other propping his head up off the pillow so he can stare at your calm features, while each of his legs rested on either side of you.

he's kind of like a nice, warm, weighted blanket. a stinky weighted blanket, lowkey, but still nice and warm. you stir just a tad at the sudden addition of weight which makes him lift off of you a bit, because it's rare he gets to see you in such a peaceful state. he huffs as he smiles at you, choosing to lay in front of you instead of on you so he can take in your features—but also so he can scare the shit out of you when you wake up (he giggles a bit at the idea).

he's practically vibrating at the sight of you trying to bury yourself farther in the blankets; cuteness aggression... he can't help himself, and he can't help but gingerly bite the button of your nose when you look so damn cute, but you start to stir awake. one eye squinting open like you already knew who did it. hot pink orbs staring back at you, utterly enamored. "mornin', doll face." he coos before nudging your middle. "jabber, what're you doing?" you grumble groggily, sleep evident in your voice. "wanna sleep in wit' my girl. now c’mon, lemme under them covers." you can hear the smile in his voice, but you give him a once over before mumbling a small "no" before turning to face the other way.

"wha- why not?" he pouts, dragging out the last word dramatically. "you're stinky, jabs. go bathe and i'll let you cuddle with me." you yawn as you curl in on yourself whilst he groans before throwing a mini fit. settling on wrapping himself around your veiled form instead. it elicits a chuckle from you at his resilience, "what if we take a bath together, huh?" to which he perks up at. nearly tripping over you as he rushed to get out the bed as he chirped an enthusiastic, "okay!" you can't help but roll your eyes.

this guy is something else...

You fight like it’s second nature — trash beasts fall before you like it’s a hobby. You finish every stack of paperwork Semiu or the boss throws at you without a single complaint. You may be shy, but you never let anyone talk down to you. Even when fear creeps in about what the future might hold, you still keep moving forward with that brave little smile.

You’re so adorable.

That’s what he thinks.

The cute little pout he adores so much appears whenever you finish one mission only to be assigned with another — he had to bite back a smile for it. You squeal in delight every time the food you’re craving makes its way to your tastebuds. It’s adorable how you get so shy when someone compliments you for your hard work; he could watch it all day.

You don’t need anyone.

He knows that.

And yet — despite every thought reminding him how capable you are, his actions speak the opposite.

He opens doors before you can touch the handle.

He pulls out your chair at breakfast without even asking.

He hands you your favorite drink before you can reach for it, already chilled, already opened.

Once, you tried to carry a crate of supplies across HQ, insisting you had it handled. He silently lifted it from your arms with one hand and walked away like it weighed nothing.

You chased after him, flustered. “Follo, I can do it—”

“I know but..” he said, not looking back. “let me do it for you.”

You never know what to do with yourself when he says things like that.

The moment that really broke you, however, happened when you were assigned to assist his team on a task in another town. Hours of walking, scouting, navigating uneven roads — your feet were killing you. You tried not to show it, but the unevenness in your steps gave you away. A faint limp. A wince when you thought no one was looking.

Follo noticed.

Of course he did.

You were halfway through assuring yourself you could endure when a hand wrapped firmly around your wrist.

“Hey—”

He didn’t say a word. Just tugged you gently but undeniably toward a nearby bench. You frowned, confused, as he sat down and patted his thigh.

You blinked. “…What?”

“Sit,” he said flatly.

A moment of silence.

WHAT.

Stunned, you looked left and right to make sure the others weren’t nearby witnessing this. Thank goodness they were not on sight.

Your cheeks burned. “On you?”

He gave you a look that clearly said do I need to say it again?

Too shocked to process what was happening in front of you, you tried to distract yourself from reality for a short minute. Oh, look at that cloud! It’s shaped like a bunny!

You sputtered. “Follo, I’m fine—”

“No, you’re not,” he said, voice calm as ever. His eyes softened. “I can see you struggling to walk properly.”

Your heartbeat went ballistic.

Checking again if the others were nearby, you cautiously took a step forward.

Slowly and awkwardly, you sat sideways across his lap, stiff and unsure of where to put your hands. He adjusted his hold automatically — one arm around your waist like it was the most natural thing in the world — the other reaching down to tug off your boot.

“H-Hey—!”

“Relax.”

He inspected your socked foot with silent precision before pressing his thumb into your arch. You nearly squeaked.

He paused, glancing up at you. “Too much?”

“N-No,” you squeaked.

He hummed, pleased and continued massaging, firm strokes that melted tension you hadn’t even realized you’d been carrying.

Your face was on fire. Your hands curled into his broad shoulders.

“Follo…” you whispered, heart racing. “You don’t have to do all this.”

He didn’t stop.

“Yeah, I know, but…” A pause. His right hand kept massaging your foot, the other still holding your waist, his thumb drawing circles against the fabric of your uniform for comfort, making your heart run laps in your chest.

Then he looked straight into your eyes, voice unwavering. “I want to.”

It wasn’t long before the others took notice of his behavior toward you.

They took the opportunity to tease him about it at lunch.

“Real gentleman, huh?” Enjin mocked. “What are you, her bodyguard?”

“Bodyguard?” Gris snorted, nudging him. “More like househusband.”

Even Rudo chimed in from his chair across the table. “You gonna start wearing an apron too?”

Zanka threw his arms over his head dramatically. “Follo, blink twice if she’s got you in a spell.”

Follo just shrugged and drank from his cup, unfazed.

“Call it whatever you want.”

Because honestly? He likes it.

He likes being the one who carries your bags even when you insist you can handle them. He likes being the one who reaches the high shelves for you, even though he’s seen you jump five meters in the air before. He likes watching you pretend to be annoyed when he fixes your uniform or straightens your hair clip.

You let him take care of you.

Even though you don’t have to.

And that — that makes his chest warm in a way that fighting never has.

He’s not sure what this is between you two. Friends? Partners Something unnamed, something fragile but precious?

But he knows one thing for sure:

If being a “real man” means treating you like the princess you are..

— Then he’ll do it every damn day, without shame.

Without hesitation.

Without stopping until you finally look at him and realize.

He’s not doing it because you’re weak.

He’s doing it because he adores you.

著者 : Follo and the boys once he finally wins the fine shyt’s heart:

@ 2025 PETALPAYE ✿ ━ do not plagiarize, copy, modify, translate my works ! divider by : @h-aewo

Arkha Corvus

sometimes he lets you have your fun and other times he teases you right back like its nothing

but to you, it's quite literally the furthest thing from nothing

his teasing is so much smoother compared to yours and it always makes your chest flutter

"Well, sweetheart? You said you wanted me, so take me."

he had you sat in his lap where you were basically cock warming him, too embarrassed and too sensitive to move

his eyes are set on you with a watchful gaze, arms crossed over his chest and a smug smile on his face

when you lean forward into him and mumble that you can't because you're too sensitive his hands move to caress your hips before lifting you up then slamming you back down over his length

"Hmm, what a shame. I guess I'll have to take care of you then."

August Stilza

bye August is so easy

you can't tease him and expect him not to be ready to drop his pants at any moment

when he finally gets you under him, you're avoiding eye contact and hesitant to touch him

"Baby, don't leave me hanging! This is all your doing!"

he gives you a few kisses up the side of your face, watching it twist with embarrassment as he ruts his clothed cock against you

your legs try closing around his hips as you attempt to scootch away which causes August to whine, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in the side of your neck to keep you still

"Noooo don't run from meee!!"

he is far less focused on "punishing" you for your teasing than he is on getting off 🧍

he's just as sensitive and whiney as you are (if not more) but that doesn't stop him

Bro Santa

lowk Bro gives me brat tamer vibes

he's sweet and service top leaning but only when you deserve it

you're not getting off easy after all the teasing you do 🤷

he gives you a firm slap on your thigh, not enough to hurt but enough to get his message across: stop moving

he works his tongue over your most sensitive parts between your legs, holding them open and pinning them against the bed every time you try to wiggle away

"Be good and quit squirming for me, yeah?"

and just like always he makes you cum hard with nothing but his tongue, licking it all up before looking at you

he reads your expression for any signs of real discomfort before dipping his head back down to repeat the process until you can't cum anymore

Enjin

it's not easy to tease Enjin because he's quick to shoot remarks right back at you

the only difference is he can back it up

"C'mon, wheres that bold persona from earlier?"

he has you face down ass up with a cigarette hanging from his mouth, all while you whine into and claw at his bedsheets

every time you try to pull away/off of him he's pulling you back in by your hips so that his own meet your ass with a loud smack!

he shakes his head with a disappointed sigh when you complain about how you "can't handle it"

"Yeah you can. Just stay still for me, m'kay?"

he switches from his lazy, dragging pace to quick and brutal thrusts that may have well sent you straight through the mattress below you

he smirks down at the sight of you, crying and moaning all because he feels "too good"

don't worry though; once he's done he'll be real nice to you

Follo Tunito

he'd never seen you so shy before

he'd barely even gotten your pants off before you were a flustered mess, unable to keep still beneath him

he was almost convinced that you weren't ready or he'd done something wrong

"Hey, are you okay? We can stop if you want.."

when you explain to him that you want to continue but you're just sensitive he's a bit stunned

he does his best to be gentle with you, taking things slow and kissing away any tears that might slip from you eyes

you guys are pretty much cuddlefucking: maximum skin to skin contact and oh so sweet

his words and the roll of his hips are so gentle that it almost heightens your sensitivity

after you cum the first time he checks in with you, just to make sure it's ok to keep going

Gris Rubion

most times he lets you do/say whatever you want but Gris still has his needs

whenever your words get him particularly riled up he mutters a half-sincere apology before folding you in half

he knows how sensitive you are (hence his apology) but he can't bring himself to worry about that all too much when you've pretty much been sexually torturing him with your words/fleeting touches

the position he has you in makes it physically impossible to squirm or wreathe; he knows you and knew you'd try

he can't even bring himself to feel bad when you tell him how "mean" he's being through tears

"I know, 'm sorry love" (not really)

Jabber Wonger

straight up laughs at you

genuinely will be so mean about it

he leans back with a grin on his face, holding a firm grip on your hips while he bounces you on his lap

absolutely LOVES the way you claw up his wrists and arms while trying to wiggle away but there's no escaping Jabber

"Naaahhh, you're not getting away from meee!! You're the one who said you wanted me under you, remember?"

he even goes as far as to mock you/your moans Jabber you little shit

Jabber turns it into a game of "who's gonna tap out first" (spoiler alert: its usually you)

he keeps fucking you until your bodies are sticky with sweat and cum while you beg for mercy

Tamsy Caines

"What happened to that attitude of yours?"

he's smirking down at you as you try squirming away from him, one hand keeping your wrists pinned down and the other working between your legs

"All that talk and you can barely handle my hand/fingers? How pathetic"

most times he settles for keeping you relatively still by holding you down himself

but other times? here comes Tokushin!

that way you can't try escaping or pushing him away

he takes in the sight of you wrapped up in blue rope, your back arching off of his mattress as your legs shook

he hums in amusement, only pulling away when you really can't take it anymore

and since you did so well he'll give you a break before rewarding you with the real thing <3

Zodyl Typhon

teasing ZODYL? you're playing a dangerous game my friend

he's a pent up, ticking time bomb and when he reaches his limit he's pinning you down and fucking you like a bitch in heat

he rests his entire weight on you with a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet

"Act like a brat and you'll get punished like one, my dear."

he doesn't care if it's 'too much'; he's going to make you count how many times you've came and if you lose track you have to start all over again (and he doesn't even have a set number for you to get to...)

by the time he's done with you you're thoroughly fucked out; shaking, crying and leaking cum

grabbing his chin with your free hand, you pressed your lips to his in a searing kiss, relishing his breathy whimpers as your tongue laved over his.

when follo had confessed to you that he was a virgin, you’d decided to remedy that, starting with a good ol’ fashioned handjob. he’d been nervous at the start, but you’d reassured him you’d take the lead.

follo’s arms tightened around your waist, clinging to you desperately as you squeezed the base of his cock, gliding your hand back up along the shaft and smearing it with beads of his pre-cum. “mmmh…more?” he panted against your mouth, rutting into your fist like a puppy eager to obey its master.

“I’m already doing a lot for you here, sweet boy,” you chided him. your fingers slid into his inky hair and tugged, eliciting a shaky groan. “you don’t want to be greedy, do you?”

follo hummed, sucking on your bottom lip while cradling your face. you reciprocated while shooting a glance at the cracked mirror on the wall—his cock throbbing in your grasp with every skilled stroke, his shirt off, his cheeks flushed a lovely crimson. it would make an excellent porn video; you’d have to convince him to let you record him next time.

“oh, I— ‘m close,” follo whined, burying his face in your neck. you giggle softly and kiss his head as your hand speeds up, his abdomen tensing from his impending release.

“you’ve been such a good boy so far,” you soothed, “can you go a little longer?”

follo answered with a strangled moan, white ropes spurting onto your hand. he sighed and slumped against you, panting.

“fuck…’m sorry,” he sniffed. “felt so good, couldn’t…couldn’t help m’self.”

you tsk, collecting some of his release on your fingers and holding them up to his lips. “suck.”

follo took them in his mouth without a second thought, his tongue lapping himself up as his glazed-over eyes stared at you in awe. god, he was so obedient. you caressed his flushed cheek, smirking.

“I hope you know we’re not done yet,” you murmured. follo merely sighed, pulling off your fingers to pull you in for a kiss.

“I don’t mind,” he admitted.

“DAMN, BABY. CAN I TAKE YOU FOR A SPIN?”

୭⋆ ENJIN is livid. absolutely pissed. ready to throw hands. really, it’s a surge of protectiveness and slight jealousy that causes him to tense his shoulders and turn on his heel to glare at the culprit.

“the fuck did you just say?” he seethes, fingers flexing over the handle of umbreaker. the man in question, someone roughly enjin’s age if he had to guess, simply smirks and holds his hands up like he did nothing wrong.

enjin can vaguely register you calling softly to him, voice small yet full of urgency— but really, what his brain focuses on is the shit that spills from the dickhead’s mouth.

“it was just a question, my guy. look, she’s the one wearing that out, what do you expect? that people aren’t gonna look?”

enjin’s jaw aches from how hard he’s clenching it, and he swears he feels the wooden handle of umbreaker creak under the pressure he’s gripping it with. this fucker is really blaming you for his own perverse actions? fuck, enjin just wants to beat the shit out of him now.

“enjin, c’mon, it’s not worth it.” there’s a lot more urgency in your tone now, and your soft hand is gripping at his arm, body pressed against his as you pull lightly at him. “just let it go, okay?”

and with extreme effort, enjin does. he drops his shoulders and allows you to guide him forward, back turned to the man who had just disrespected you; it didn’t feel right to enjin, but he cared more about your wishes and comfort than his own need, so he forced it down.

until the bastard spoke again.

“yeah, can’t even blame you, my guy. i’d be hella pussy whipped if i had all that ass, too.”

it was extremely satisfying to watch the coward scamper away in fear when he witnessed umbreaker shift from an ordinary, tattered umbrella to an absolute deadly weapon pointed right at him— but it wasn’t as satisfying to have to explain to arkha later why enjin had used his jinki to threaten a civilian.

“DAMN, GIRL! NICE LEGS!”

୭⋆ GRIS is angered by the sudden harassment, but his main concern isn’t confronting the perpetrator; it’s checking on you. he immediately squeezes your hand in his and turns his blue gaze to your face.

it’s scrunched in discomfort, and your shoulders are tensed in a way that gris just wants to massage out. he swallows and beats back the urge to seek out the man who had spoken and affected you this way.

you were so excited to wear this skirt out, too. and it looked so nice on you, the color complimenting your skin tone perfectly. anger thrummed subtly in gris’ veins, but he kept it contained.

“are you alright?” he asks softly, only loud enough for you to hear. and you nod, but it’s small. and he doesn’t miss the way you shift closer to him, shoulder bumping into his arm with each step you take.

like you’re trying to hide yourself.

and gris reluctantly releases your hand just long enough to shrug off his cleaner’s jacket and drape it over your shoulders. it falls down pretty low , swallowing your form and effectively hiding most of your body from any unwanted leers.

you immediately snuggle deeper into it, sniffing softly and relaxing. you look up at him with such affection and gratitude that it makes his heart skip a beat. or three. maybe even ten.

the way you look in his jacket is just the final nail in the coffin for gris, honestly. he’s smitten.

THE CLASSIC WOLF-WHISTLE.

୭⋆ TAMSY knew it was coming before it even happened. call him paranoid or overprotective, but he never let his guard down when it came you. where ever people were, all his senses were locked onto one goal— to keep you safe.

you didn’t need to pay attention to what was going on around you so long as tamsy was with you. all you had to focus on was being your sweet, cute self and enjoy doing so. that’s all tamsy wanted.

and that’s why he was able to spot him so quickly; his eyes were glued to you as you perused a small cart of trinkets, shorts wrapped tight around your hips and shirt dipping to show off a generous amount of cleavage.

it never bothered tamsy when you dressed like that; he loved seeing you confident in yourself, and he would never complain about seeing your skin or watching you model cute and sexy outfits.

but it did draw unwanted attention from others— such as this guy, who tamsy had an animalistic urge to simply rip apart. he was practically undressing you with his eyes, and was so cocky and obvious in the way he did it. as if it was his right to do that to you.

gods, the way it made tamsy’s blood boil. the way it made his body tense with the urge to rip the man’s eyes out for even daring to place themselves upon your divinity. he was so close to losing it the longer the man just stared. tamsy opted to do his best to simply ignore it and focus on you.

but when you crouched down to look at a row of handcrafted necklaces, the man’s lips wrapped around a loud, raucous wolf-whistle. and something in tamsy snapped.

tokushin was activated almost on its own, a thin string slithering across the ground to wrap around the man’s ankle and pull. he fell to the ground with a pained grunt, eyes widened with surprise at tamsy. he looked scared and livid, and it made tamsy’s body tingle.

“it’s quite disrespectful to do that to a lady. especially a taken lady. do it again and you’ll lose your tongue.”

his voice is soft and somewhat chiding, but the threat is all too real. all too genuine. tamsy means it.

because no one disrespects his girl like that.

⋆˚⊹ ENJIN ꩜ .ᐟ

enjin’s a pretty simple man when it comes to turn-ons; teasing, slips of skin, seductive eye contact, etc. but something that really, really gets him going for reasons he can’t explain…

your laugh. specifically, when he makes you laugh.

hey, enjin’s a funny guy, okay? he has a likable personality, too. so it’s not uncommon for him to be intentionally and unintentionally comedic.

and when it causes you to laugh? oh, he’s fucking gone. because your laugh is so angelic, smile so dazzling, eyes brighter than gemstones, cheeks flushed just so—and it’s such a pretty look on you that enjin can’t help but chub up a bit.

even if you’re literally laughing at his expense. because you actually finding him genuinely funny is just… ugh, he doesn’t even know how to explain it.

he just loves it so much that he’ll take any opportunity he can to revel in the sensation. he loves being your goofy man who can always make you laugh.

⋆˚⊹ ZANKA ꩜ .ᐟ

for some reason, zanka can’t help but love it when you want him to solve problems that you can easily solve yourself.

“zanka, there’s a bug in my room! go get it!”

“zankaaa, this jar is closed too tight. open it for me?”

“ugh, rudo left trash on my side of the jeep again—zanka, can you help me move it?”

even mundane things, such as helping with choosing your top, or how to style your hair that day; anything that makes zanka feel like you need him. like you need his presence and opinion and advice.

feeling needed just really gets zanka going—especially when it’s you who needs him.

(though to most, it just looks like you get zanka to do everything you don’t want to do—but they know better than to save him. he’s right where he wants to be.)

⋆˚⊹ TAMSY ꩜ .ᐟ

tamsy’s gotta admit that he’s such a sucker for the occasions when you get air-headed; but not in the insulting way.

in the way that when you’re with him, you just let your mind… drift off. you let yourself relax, allow yourself to process things a little slower than normal. you let down that serious facade that is required of most cleaners.

you turn goofy. giggly. something so cute and sweet that tamsy can’t help but coo at you and hold you close. can’t help but think of you as some sweet, ditzy, beautiful dove all preened for him. for him to cater to, love, and protect.

like you feel safe with tamsy. completely and utterly, in all ways.

maybe it’s exactly that. maybe it’s the idea that you trust him enough to let your guard down and put your entire being in his hands that makes his gut stir so much. that makes his chest feel a few sizes too small for his heart due to all the love that beats through it.

Zanka

Zanka is not prepared for the way you look at him when he comes back.

He’s mid-sentence, bragging a little, when he notices your stare.

There is something a little…weird about how you were gazing at him- your eyes dark and a little predatory.

“…Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?”

You tackle him into a hug before he can finish, your face buried in the crook of his neck.

He laughs—big, loud and a little surprised —until you mutter,

“You were gone too long.”

That shuts him up. He feels a warmth erupt inside him filling him up completely as his breath hitches.

“Doll…”, he murmurs, his hand gently trying to pry you off to look into your eyes.

His ears burn when you don’t pull away right away.

You cling on. Fingers fisted in his clothes. Absolutely no shame.

He pretends to be cool about it, but he’s internally screaming. This was difficult…oh so difficult…

His hands wrap around your waist, steadying you as he leans his forehead against yours, eyes locking into yours.

“Y’know, if you keep this up, I’m not gonna be responsible for what happens next.”

He missed you too—just didn’t realize how bad until you’re right there.

Ends up holding you all night, in more ways than one.

Jabber

Jabber notices immediately.

The way you don’t greet him—just circle closer. Head tilted. Smile sharp. A slight flush on your cheeks.

“You look like you’re about to bite.”

You say, very calmly, “I might.”

He laughs. Loud. Delighted.

Absolutely lets you get in his space.

He encourages it, even. Tilts his head down just enough.

“Go on. I don’t mind.”

The tension is insane. Electric. Teeth-gritting.

He missed you too—but in that obsessive, coiled way.

Hands hover near your waist, not touching. Testing. Teasing.

If you grab him first, he’s thrilled. “Miss me that bad?”

The answer is obvious from the way you basically melt into him.

His grin morphs into something more animalistic and feral as your eyes lock into his…finding nothing but want in them.

“Jeez… I guess I gotta help you with that…”, he mumbles into your hair, inhaling your scent deeply.

Shuddering, you nod, taking his hand in yours and walking back to where hopefully, you could show him just how much you missed him.

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated! Lemme know if you like this kind of content too!! ♡

And thank you @henriibabes for the request! Loved that you send multiple and definitely working on the rest hehe! Mwah!! ♡♡