The East Ward gave you their own version of a warm welcome when you arrived later that Friday afternoon. It was a slower period of the day which meant your intake would be less hectic. A broad man in a support uniform who went by the name Gris had greeted you at the entrance.

“Looking forward to having some extra hands here,” he spoke warmly before turning to the support next to him, “this is Follo, another Akuta support.”

“Nice to meet you.” You hiked your tote bag up on your shoulder.

“Here, we can help you with that.“ Follo reached out, both of them taking a bag in hand before Gris looked back at you with a smile. 

“Let’s give you the tour.”

They showed you around with a relaxed demeanor and not much preamble. Dining hall, med bay, training rooms, conference rooms, common spaces—you knew the ropes. Thankfully, the layout was a rough replica of your home HQ, providing one less logistic you had to worry about.

Not that you were entirely free of concerns, one of which being your introduction to a whole new team. Your own team in the North Ward was made of adults your age or older, while Akuta ranged from teens to early twenty-somethings—not that there was much difference between the two on the field. If you were getting into semantics, you’d say adults thought they didn’t need managing while teenagers might know they did but refused it anyway. They were two sides of the same stubborn coin. It didn’t bother you, though—if being stubborn meant you’d keep waking up the next day, so be it.

Still, stepping into another team’s dynamic and asserting yourself as their superior felt presumptuous at best.

And then there was him. Sure, you and Enjin got along more than amicably when buzzed and looking for a good time—would that translate? It might be kind of weird, at least to start. Or it might be totally fine, you reminded yourself. First day nerves had a way of clinging to thoughts you’d usually not give much merit. 

So maybe you were a little nervous. You’d dealt with worse.

The living quarters were the last stop of your tour. Your guides led you to the end of a long hallway, setting your bags down as Gris unlocked the door to one of the rooms before dropping the key in your hand. 

“All yours,” he patted you on the shoulder, “don’t be afraid to holler if you need anything.”

You nodded with a sincere thanks as they waved you off before carrying your bags inside.

The room was clean and slightly smaller than your one in North Ward; white paint, gray floor, one window—standard. Thankfully, after unpacking some things it looked less sterile and a bit more like home. 

You could hear someone in the next room over shuffling through their door as you folded some clothes into the dresser. The walls were thin, you realized, making a mental note to not be too brutish when it came evening. Being a light sleeper yourself, you hoped they did the same.

During your tour, you had been debriefed on the usual welcome party held for new recruits, which apparently also included temporary stays like yourself. It appeared the East cleaners loved any excuse to have a good time. You weren’t one for big to-dos but you could appreciate the sentiment.

By the time you had gotten everything in its place, you realized you should start heading to the celebration. Your stomach growled in affirmation, smelling food in the hallway as you approached the dining hall. 

Admittedly, the hall wasn’t what you expected as you entered. The walls were covered in colorful graffiti and lit by strings of lights—it looked more like a kickback than a place you’d go for dinner. Groups of people ranging all ages filled out the tables around.

As you took in the scenery, you noticed the man who showed you around earlier waving to you. You made your way, weaving through small groups of other supports and cleaners standing nearby.

“Hey, glad you could make it!” Gris gestured for you to follow him. “I want to introduce you to some folks.” 

He took you around the room, putting names to some of the different faces you would soon be leading.

First, towards the outer edge of the room, was a girl named Riyo. She had blazing red hair and an easygoing spunk to her—something you suspected became the opposite if you were to get on her bad side. Leaning against the wall next to her was an older teen, Zanka, who carried himself rather seriously. You got the impression he wasn’t one for frivolities. 

Eventually, you both circled back around to the entrance where a meek girl named Eishia stood with her not-so-meek brother, August. They seemed nice. 

Then there was Rudo, a quiet boy that was smaller than the rest. He sat by himself, brooding and a bit shy. Gris gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder before the boy stammered out an awkward “nice to meet you” which you returned warmly. You didn’t take it personally.

Following your rounds, Gris brought you to the counter so you could order something to eat. Unpacking on a near empty stomach had really worked up your appetite.

“We have a table opposite the counter to the right, feel free to join us.” Gris extended the invitation as he began making his way there.

“Thanks, I will.” 

Now that you had gotten a quick read on the team, things felt less daunting. You could work with this.

No sign of Enjin, though. Maybe that was a good thing.

After a short wait, one of the kitchen staff shoved a hearty plate of food into your hands. Once utensils and something to drink were found, you moved to the team’s table, sitting down in one of the empty seats.

It was a lively bunch, which meant they were never for lack of conversation. You usually preferred to observe a group’s dynamic before jumping in yourself, but they made sure to include you anyway. They asked about the North Ward and your home team. You answered between bites before asking some questions of your own.

Everything was going surprisingly well. You weren’t sure why you had been nervous in the first place.

“Hey, Enjin! Over here!” Riyo stood, waving from her side of the table emphatically.

Right. 

You turned over your shoulder, looking to him as he approached. He kept his gaze straight ahead, sporting an easy smile directed at the table. You felt him come to stand behind you, bracing his arm casually against the back of your chair as he spoke without so much as a glance in your direction.

“Gonna grab some food before they run out, any requests?” 

Besides Follo who asked for some extra napkins, the rest of the team shook their heads. You averted your focus back in front of you. You weren’t sure if you were keeping things professional or just being a wimp. Perhaps both.

His hand finally lifted from behind you as he began his stroll to the counter. 

“That’s Enjin, our team leader.” Gris leaned towards you to clarify. You nodded, smiling like your stomach hadn’t just knotted. You were familiar.

Enjin returned with a plate stacked high, tossing the extra napkins in the center of the table before plopping down in an open seat by Riyo and Zanka. They were quick to talk to him, curious where he had been. He dismissed their concern with a wave of his hand and no further details from what you could hear. You supposed it was good to know that enigmatic thing he led with wasn’t personal.

You struck up conversation with a few other team members, asking about their vital instruments. It was crucial to familiarize yourself with what they each brought to the table before heading out on the field together—synergy and all that. You listened intently, nodding along as they explained the ins and outs of their chosen instruments. 

“What about yours, Miss?” Eishia looked at you, likely curious as to what type of injuries you might sustain that she’d have to heal. Just the thought appeared to make her nervous.

Your vital instrument wasn’t all that complicated or showy and you preferred it that way. You reached to your hair where it was thrown in a casual updo, pulling out a long silver hairpin that held it together, causing your hair to sweep down your back and across your shoulders. Enjin’s eyes seemed to still on you for a moment—the first he’d looked at you all night—before returning to his conversation.

You held the hairpin out in your hand as you explained what it was capable of, mostly movement and defensive fighting. When activated with anima, it morphed to be a few feet taller than you, like a vaulting pole of sorts. It helped you maneuever through fights with ease and get off blows before trash beasts knew what hit them. Elegant and practical, just how you liked it.

“So you’re not a front-liner, then?” Zanka asked astutely.

“Not typically, I work better circling the field. Allows me to keep an eye on things.” You tucked your instrument away as you answered.

“Hm.” Riyo’s chin was perched atop her hands on the table, smiling like she knew something you didn’t. “Just like Enjin.” 

You stole a quick glance at him, seemingly not listening as he talked to Gris—well, you thought you were quick, but he was quicker. His gaze flicked to yours before you could look away, holding long enough for you to assume it was intentional before returning to his conversation. 

So much for not stepping on toes.

“Should be fine.” Riyo waved her hand dismissively, not having noticed the exchange, “Just gotta make sure you move in the same direction so you don’t run into each other.”

You laughed at that, grateful for the levity. “Problem solved, then.”

You talked with the team for a bit longer until exhaustion crept in. Judging by the way a few of them rubbed at their eyes and yawned, the table was feeling something similar. You thanked everyone for their warm welcome before Enjin and Gris began ushering the rest of the members out of to the dining hall. 

You stood with a stretch, feeling the muscles in your back protest from sitting too long. You carried your empty tray to the counter before making your way to the entrance along with the others. 

Most had split off to go to their respective hallways by the time you got to your own—everyone besides Enjin. He walked a few paces behind as you headed towards the end of the hall. 

Despite the day’s success, he was all you could seem to focus on currently. The man who barely acknowledged you all evening, who made you feel like a fool for thinking he’d treat you like you’d treat him. It was one thing to be discreet, it was another to make you feel like a complete stranger. 

Right?

You attempted to shake him from your thoughts as you approached your door—until he stopped right behind where you stood. He was following you. He had tailed you all the way to your room. Even though you weren’t necessarily surprised, he really had some nerve. Without warning, you whipped around to face him.

“So you don’t say a word to me all evening, but now you’re following me to my room?”

Enjin appeared taken aback. Maybe he wasn’t expecting you to confront him. You hadn’t really expected it either, to be honest. Instead of responding right away, he simply held your stare as something smug started to pull at the corners of his mouth. 

“While I’m flattered you think so highly of me,” you watched as his hand tucked into his coat pocket, taking out a key, “not everything is about you, ya know.” He said it with no bite, eyes trained on where he slid the key into the lock of the door next to yours with a practiced turn before looking back to you. “Welcome to the team, neighbor.”

You wanted to say something—but he left you in the hallway before anything came out, closing his door behind him while embarrassment rushed over your skin in a hot wave. You were never one to be so temperamental, quite the opposite actually. Those sleepless nights leading up to the transfer must’ve really done a number on your equanimity.

You opened your own door, promptly making your way inside as if the privacy could save you from the regret. Not that the walls provided much beyond the illusion of such as you heard Enjin walking across his room, opening his drawers on the other side . . . then unbuckling his belt—god, you needed to get a grip!

It was fine. He didn’t seem all that offended—although his apparent amusement wasn’t much better. And he probably did deserve a little bit of your frustration, even if it was misled.

Antsy for something to distract yourself, you stepped to your own dresser to change into something more comfortable for bed. The effort was futile though because each movement only made you feel more exposed. You were sure he could hear it all: you pacing across your room, undressing from the day, sitting on your bed. You listened as his mattress creaked on the other side of the wall.

Maybe the circumstance would prove helpful—having the person you wanted to hookup with right next door was hardly a bad thing. Logistically, the ordeal became a lot simpler. 

The feeling in your gut was not so easily convinced as you slipped under the covers. Maybe it was best to will yourself to sleep instead of trying to be optimistic any longer.

With a press of the switch on your bedside lamp, you plunged the room into darkness.

*Click* 

Faintly, you heard the same noise mirror you on other side of the wall. 

⫘ ⫘ ⫘ ⫘ ⫘ ⫘ ⫘

Three weeks had come and went faster than expected. You finally had a handle on the ins and outs of the Akuta team. You’d managed to help Rudo open a bit. You’d gained the other members’ trust. You’d been carrying out your duties as instructed.

And you hadn’t spoken to Enjin since the first night you arrived. Well, not directly anyway.

He was around, yet never really at the center of things—which should’ve made it easier for you to focus, but instead your energy was spent scanning your periphery. Admittedly, you had hoped to be in his bedroom within the first week, maybe the second if you were being cordial. 

It was possible you had misread him. Maybe it was just an act. After all, you weren’t entirely the same person he met once a year either. Still, it felt real enough that you couldn’t seem to recreate the result by yourself even when you tried.

To rub salt into the wound, you were slipping up more than usual on missions this past week. They were stupid mistakes, ones you’d typically never make; like letting your guard down too soon, or getting your positioning mixed up. Your swings also weren’t angled quite right and your timing was stilted. Nothing egregious, but they were amateur missteps for a veteran like yourself.

Today’s mission had left your ego bruised more than your skin. You were frustrated. Not only had you gotten your hopes up for some kind of makeup hookup, but now you also apparently sucked at your job. So you had gotten sloppy, just not in the way you wanted.

It seemed you weren’t the only one who noticed as Enjin called you over after returning to HQ.

“So,” he examined you carefully, “something on your mind? Or can you just not keep up?”

“I don’t know, I’m sorry.” You let out an incredulous sigh. “I’ll figure it out.”

He shook his head, not caring for an apology and an empty answer.

“Tell ya what,” he leaned against his instrument, Umbreaker, as he continued, “meet me at the training rooms in ten. Gonna have you spar with me to assess your weak points, then you can start fixing ‘em.”

You didn’t protest, just nodded back at him and accepted your fate.

It was mortifying. You prided yourself on your competence. You were meticulous, disciplined, adaptable. Yet somehow, this place had you off kilter. Technically, the job was getting done, just not to your personal standard—clearly not to your co-leader’s standard either. 

You made a round to your room to drop off some stuff before heading to the training bay. You claimed the first empty room available, making your way to sit on one of the side benches until Enjin arrived shortly after.

“Okay.” He closed the door, making his way to the room’s center before turning to you. “I’m gonna assume you’ve sparred back in North Ward during your recruit training, yeah?”

“Yes. Been a while though.” You got up, walking to stand opposite him with your hands on your hips.

“Doesn’t matter, the goal is the same.” He gestured towards himself. “Disarm your opponent.“ 

You pulled your instrument from your sleeve where it had been tucked during the morning’s mission, infusing it with anima so it transformed to its real height. Enjin did the same, his umbrella now stood as tall as him with each spindle bladed. 

He gave you a look to make sure you were ready. You affirmed with a tilt of your heard.

He watched as you eyed him in wait, unsure if you should make the first move or if you should let him. Both had their strategic advantage. He smiled at your pause.

“You’ve got good instincts,” he said bluntly, “follow ‘em.”

You vaulted to his right—his non-dominant side—before attempting a swing at his ankles. It wasn’t terrible, but Enjin intercepted the blow with his instrument before you got there.

The maneuver wasn’t a total loss, though, because your position allowed you to reach around the front of his torso, pulling him into a clothesline with your pin. It wasn’t what he had expected, but Enjin adapted quickly, ducking from your choke before skirting around you with the help of Umbreaker.

This time he initiated, coming at you from different off-angles. You managed to evade his hits yet still couldn’t pull off any of your own. Each attempt was just a little too slow, too disjointed. You took a breath to steel yourself.

Enjin was monitoring your strides closely. You made another swing followed by another miss. He noticed you seemed to falter more when he made the first move. 

He charged into your space, this time successfully pinning one arm behind you with the curved handle of his instrument. Your heart raced as you wrenched from his grasp with all the grace of a caged animal. Heat began to simmer in your chest.

“Stay calm,” he called out, “that frustration is making you sloppy.” 

He was right. All it did was make you want to roll your eyes, though, because you usually were calm!

Following a few more failed attempts involving variations of Enjin keeping you against him, blocking hit after hit with Umbreaker, he got an inkling it wasn’t just anger that was making you unsteady.

He tested his hypothesis again—and sure enough, the moment his eyes locked on yours, you faltered. When he got in your personal space, you lost your grip. If you touched beyond a brush of contact, your focus scattered. 

Just as he connected the dots, you managed to catch him off guard. With a swing of your pin to his abdomen, you knocked him flat on his back. Succinctly straddling his legs as you leaned forward, chest to chest, you moved to hold his arms firmly below you on the training mat. Your vital instrument now cast beside you.

Good, he thought. But what would happen if . . .

“Nice job.” 

He conceded, catching his breath before delivering the deciding blow. 

“You taking charge,” he mused lowly, “kinda hot.”

Your head spun. 

In one fluid motion, Enjin’s hands suddenly slid from your grasp. Flipping the script, he bound his fingers around your wrists before sitting up with a look that said he suspected as much.

“Oh fuck off, Enjin.” You groaned, irritation igniting in your chest and burning low in your stomach.

You just couldn’t focus with him this close! You were too aware of his proximity. How each muscle flexed beneath you, skin on skin. How carefully he took you in, like you were something worth solving. If he was so set on avoiding you, why even bother!

He searched your eyes. Noting the way your chest heaved slightly, how your cheeks flushed deeper under his observation. You hadn’t even fought his hold—your body surrendered before you got the chance.

It didn’t look like you needed correcting, he determined.

Maybe . . .

“Alright, new approach.” 

He released your wrists, hands moving instead to splay across your hips. He looked below to where your legs wrapped around his thigh before flicking his focus back up to you. 

“Ride it.”

What you really needed, he wagered, was some relief.

You blinked at him, dazed just by the suggestion. Your mouth opened, but he shook his head at you before anything could come out. He simply gestured down to where you were connected with his chin, holding your stare. 

“Try for me.”

‘For me.’

Your composure slipped into something headier—would you? Right here?

A heavy pulse you barely recognized to be your own thumped helplessly in your ears as your hands came up, bracing against his chest. 

Slowly, you started to rock your hips. 

Once you took initiative, Enjin helped, gently guiding the motion with his hands until you found a rhythm. A hitched breath escaped as you felt the seam of your uniform grind against somewhere sensitive.

“There ya go.” He coaxed, eyes trained on your expression where your eyebrows knitted together. “Work it alllll out.”

You panted, chasing the insatiable feeling that had been building for days, weeks even. You normally possessed more self-control than this, but right now, you didn’t care. The impulse clouded your every thought, disparaging your usual propriety as if it were only an excuse. Until all you were left with was a pitiful and wanton form of surrender.

His knee lifted slightly, just enough to press right where you needed him. You gasped softly at the new angle.

“Fuck, Enjin.”

“Mm. Keep going.” It was a casual order, one that made you feel anything but.

You rutted yourself against his thigh, chasing the friction. The pleasure was quickly overcoming you as your breathing became heavy and muscles started to shake. Feeling you tremble, Enjin tightened his grip before bringing you down firmer and faster to help you along.

A familiar sensation began building in your stomach. But desire was a greedy thing—and you needed more.

“Please.” You breathed out, a plea masquerading as control.

Enjin didn’t hesitate. His thumb moved to press against your clit over the fabric of your pants, knowing he found it when you let out a small whimper in response. He held the seam against it, brushing up and down in a way that made your hips catch and jerk in their rhythm. His other hand slid around to your back, dipping just beneath your waistband to push at the base of your spine, curving your hips up into his ministrations. 

Sometimes you wondered if he could read your mind. Well, it was more than that, like he knew what you wanted before you even knew yourself. It was equal parts unnerving and quite possibly the hottest thing you’d ever seen.

“What if,” an involuntary whine interrupted you before continuing, “someone comes in?”

He shook his head. “Door’s locked. Just let go, I got ya.” 

He spoke so matter-a-factly, as if you weren’t a whimpering mess clinging to his leg and fucking yourself like it was more than just catharsis that you needed.

“Ah, think I’m—” Your body teetered on the edge. Still, you just needed something.

“Mhm.” He hummed calmly. “Give it to me, pretty girl.”

A spark shot through your spine, hitting every last nerve-ending. And at that, the coil in your stomach finally snapped. 

Your climax shuddered through you violently, nearly knocking the air from your lungs as you lolled forward. Your nails dug into Enjin’s shoulders where you held on in attempts to keep yourself upright. His hands, always so helpful, came back to your sides to assist as you rode it out. Your core fluttered rapidly while your hips jerked of their own accord, creating a friction that was near overstimulating.

You swallowed the noises that bubbled up your throat as the pleasure rippled over you in waves. Gradually, the intensity started to fizzle out. Your muscles had become lax, leaving you heady and spent. 

Enjin’s hands slowed to a stop with your hips. His thumb absentmindedly rubbed circles over your skin, allowing you to come back down to earth before he spoke.

“Feel better?”

You leaned back from slope of his shoulder languorously, face flushed and breath shallow.

“ . . . Yeah. Think so.”

Upon your confirmation, he gave your thigh a gentle pat before helping you to your feet. You stood, bracing your hands against his forearms with a small wobble as you centered yourself. 

Reality started to wash over you. You just got off on your coworker’s lap.

“Wait, what about—” you felt guilty using him like that with nothing in return, even if he had insisted.

“Appreciate it,” he was already pivoting towards the door, giving a casual wave over his shoulder in your direction, “but go get some rest, ‘kay?”

You heard the latch of the door click closed behind him, echoing in the open room as his footsteps got further away. Dazed, you reached to smooth your hair and adjust your uniform to its proper place before heading out into the hallway.

You returned to your room, carefully closing yourself inside. With a tug of your waistband, you stepped out of your uniform bottoms and removed your ruined underwear. You shed the rest of your clothes before hopping in the shower to clean up—despite how much you sometimes felt like one around him, you weren’t a complete animal. 

You soon emerged from the shower rid of the evidence. Even so, the event continued to swirl in your head, replaying against your will with his voice echoing like a through line. And your body was still thrumming in the aftermath like it couldn’t let go just yet. Part of you was grateful he wasn’t also in his room right now. The other, the more fickle side, was a little disappointed.

He was doing you a favor, helping you clear your head. Taking care of the team. 

Nothing more.

⫘ ⫘ ⫘ ⫘ ⫘ ⫘ ⫘

It must’ve been getting late judging by the hush that had settled over HQ—Enjin decided to call it. His focus had been shot for the day anyway. 

He made his way back to the dorms. He heard nothing from your side of the wall as he slid off his coat and boots, setting his instrument by the door. You were probably asleep by now.

Sleep. That’s what he should do.

Instead, he sat down on the edge of his bed, pulling a cigarette from the pack in his back pocket. Lighting it lazily, he inhaled the smoke, letting his lungs fill with a dull burn. It wasn’t enough.

He moved to lay on his back, resting his unoccupied hand on his abdomen before breathing in another slow drag. He didn’t dare close his eyes—he knew you’d be there.

In the past few years, every time he’d had sex with you, it would ruin it for him for months. No one looked at him the way you did, no one moved like you, no one felt like you. Everything about you fucking lingered. All he could do was thank whatever powers in charge that you had been kept far the fuck away from him. 

You were supposed to be a one-off thing. A guilty pleasure.

He groaned quietly in defeat as his free hand started to slide under his waistband, feeling himself grow heavy and aching under his fingers. He took another hit of the cigarette before snubbing its end into the ashtray on his nightstand. 

With one last exhale, he gave in. His hand moved slow at first, like it was almost painful to do so. He was more pent up than usual, it seemed, because each consecutive stroke became faster than the last. He thumbed over the tip to catch what leaked—undeniable proof of what you did to him.

His mind wandered back to the training room. Recalling the way you had tried so hard to keep your composure before trusting him enough to break it. How you fell apart still fully-clothed on top of him. How he had to pretend each desperate noise that fell from your lips hadn’t made him twitch below his belt.

The muscles in his abdomen started to tighten at his grip, harsh to the point of overwhelm. The sensation made his eyes squeeze close and head tip back as he stifled a low moan. He couldn’t take it anymore. 

Following a desperate pull of his wrist, he came in hard pulses onto his stomach with your face behind his eyelids.

He felt guilty alright.

But blazed or not, Enjin still has a job to do. Umbreaker sweeps him across the trash dunes in a speedy blur, but by the time he arrives he is already too late and the show is over. 

All that’s left is you: a young woman passed out in a pile of demolished trash beast remains and other junk. The giant kaiju-like plushie—now inanimate and no bigger than a hand—lay beside you tethered to your person by a keyring. 

Happening upon another giver in No Man’s Land wasn’t out of the ordinary, sure, but if Enjin thought he was high from seeing your jinki in action he had to be damn near in the clouds once he recognized your clothes.  

Similar to when Enjin discovered Rudo, he could immediately tell by your dress you are a Spherite. But unlike the threadbare attire of the scrappy tribesmen teen, yours practically screams wealth. They are the finest clothes Enjin has ever laid eyes on. Appearing as if they are woven from gold itself, despite the fresh layer of grime that settled on them.

You aren’t just any ol’ Spherite—you’re a Spherite noblewoman.

Keh, interesting. 

With a shake of his head Enjin scoops you up, heading back to HQ. They aren’t gonna believe this…

Enjin digs out a backup mask from his satchel—clearly not made for your face, because it slides right off. With an annoyed sigh, he holds it in place himself. Guess that’s his job now… at least until you wake up.

Although Enjin soon discovers a pattern of how unnecessarily difficult Spherites can be upon arriving to the Abyss—as the first thing you do upon waking in Enjin’s arms is to slap the everloving dogshit out of him. 

Fuck, you have a mean right hand. 

Enjin tongues a tooth to make sure it’s still there. 

“Let me go this instant, you filthy kidnapping degenerate! I demand you to take me home!” You cry out. 

Tears fog up the mask on your face as you clearly mistook Enjin for some kind of criminal with his ‘full face’ on. Enjin sighs, tightening his grip on you and taking the not-so-painless beating you’re dishing out until you reach the nearest city. 

The very second you both are in a habitable area for breathing, Enjin unceremoniously dumps you to the ground. He catches the mask, yet he leaves you to fall straight on your ass. The fall shocks you but Enjin’s sure what’s really got you stunned is the strange bustling city surrounding you.

Removing his fullface, Enjin crouches down to eye-level with you. Overwhelmed and overstimulated by the foreign place, your eyes dart around helplessly. You’re frantic, looking everywhere for some sort of bearing of where you are and avoiding the man in front of you.

Yet Enjin just waits, clicking his tongue and rocking back on his heels, for you to quiet your hysterics enough for him to get a word in.

When your eyes, still wide with panic, finally meet, he has the nerve to raise a brow—like you’re the one being dramatic and not the guy who literally kidnapped you.

“So, as you may have noticed by now…this ain’t the Sphere,” Enjin says, balancing a cigarette between his lips. 

You look at him skeptically—he says it like it’s nothing, while your world is actively falling apart. What is he even talking about?!

“I know this ain’t the welcome wagon you posh Spherites are used to but…”

Enjin pauses, exhaling smoke to the sky. Your gaze follows up, widening once you see the oddly shaped dome covering the city, a strange yellow fog in the atmosphere.

“....welcome to the Abyss, Girlie. Name’s Enjin.” 

Blankly staring at Enjin, you say nothing. The both of you in a mini stare down. Although you’re the first to give by suddenly bursting into sobs.

Rolling his eyes, a thought briefly flashes in Enjin's head that he should have just left you for the raiders. Hell, he could still leave you now—you’re calling way too much attention to yourself.

However, Enjin also figures that with you all but swimming in luxury on the Sphere, you probably thought of the Pit—your so-called Hell, or its inhabitants as mere fairytale.

Enjin’s inkling is confirmed when you calm down enough to piece together that your now ex-husband had hired a bunch of shady tribesmen to kidnap and dispose of you—all to collect your inheritance. 

Yeah, not your fault.  Enjin thinks and cuts you a break. 

For your own sake, Enjin somehow convinces you to come back to Cleaner HQ with him. He can’t return you to the Sphere himself—but he knows another Spherite who’s trying to make their way back. That small glimmer of hope is enough to lift your spirits, just barely. This time, you follow him willingly—though you still cry the entire way to HQ.

Shame how prone to hysterics you are, otherwise Enjin actually thinks you’re pretty hot. Noting how the expensive silk of your dress clings so damn well to your every curve. He’d sell your clothes while you were near the shopping district—but unlike Rudo, he doubts he could talk you out of them. 

At least—not yet.

But that thought is drastically short lived as Enjin spends more time in your presence. Sure, you could have gotten along. You could’ve even been Enjin’s type. Yet there’s one glaring problem: 

You’re an annoying, needy-ass brat.  

Besides looks, you tick off nearly every one of his dealbreakers. You’re ditzy, dependent and whiny. Basically Enjin’s nightmare.

Plus your snobby little ass never once thanked nor apologized to him over the following weeks.

Not after he saved you.

Not after he brought you back to HQ where you were welcomed with skeptical, yet open arms—as a new, very reluctant (you had no other options really) recruit in-training.

And you certainly never thanked Enjin, even after all his shit luck, when he was assigned to be your teacher and look after your haughty ass. You have the most indignant pout on your face when Corvus announces that since Enjin found you, you're Enjin’s problem.

“You have to be kidding me? I’m stuck with Trashy Poppins here!?”

“Yo, Trashy—what!?” The reference doesn’t land with Enjin but he knows it isn’t good.

Semiu nods curtly in agreement of the pairing, amused that Enjin finally has someone to keep him on his toes as she ushers you off to get settled in.

The fuck?! 

Lamenting being stuck is supposed to be Enjin’s line. Enjin had figured the logical move was to pair you with Zanka—the closest thing to nobility among the Cleaners—and let you bond with Rudo, a fellow Spherite, even if he was a tribesman.

But it doesn’t take long to realize neither boy can handle a grown ass woman like you. One flutter of your lashes and they’re useless saps—like the big sister he never had, you could soothe Rudo’s worst moods with a mere head pat. 

While Zanka, older and appreciating your more ‘robust’ qualities, trips over his own tongue trying to talk to you.

Both ready to do anything just to earn a few sweet coos—unless someone steps in.

It had to be Enjin. He was the only one who could ‘resist’ your charms.

Still, Enjin’s got his work cut out for him when it comes to you—especially training you for combat and figuring out how the hell you’re supposed to use that so-ugly-it’s-almost-cute vital instrument.

He tries not to judge. Really, he does. Jinki are personal—he knows that better than anyone. But still…the fact that you even have one? That’s wild.

A Spherite? A noble Spherite, no less—the same pompous assholes who treat the Abyss like a dumping ground—actually caring enough about something to pump it full of anima?

Yeah, that’s impressive, he’ll give you that. What wasn’t though was the name you gave the lil thing: Bubu.

Tsk. Wack as hell. Vital instruments deserve names with some bite. Something like—Umbreaker.

Still, credit where it’s due—you’re picking things up faster than expected. 

However, that doesn’t spare him from your nonstop bitching, though. The complaints come daily: the strange smells your hair absorbs, the absence of your sacred skincare routines, not being able to take a 30 minute shower, and how everything down here always tastes just a little off.

But the most absurd? The cherry blossoms.

You complain the most about not being able to frolic in your lush, petal-covered garden full of rows of cherry blossoms. Enjin’s never even seen a damn tree like that, let alone the acres of grass and flowers you describe like some bedtime fairytale. You haughtily anoint yourself as a floral herbalist, an expert when it comes to your pretty little flowers.

It’s shit like that on top of everything else that irks Enjin when it comes to you.

And yet?

Enjin thinks the most irritating thing about you is the fact that he can’t seem to stay away from you. 

Sure, you’re annoying as fuck—but in spite of his own objections, Enjin keeps finding ways to keep your time occupied. He makes up excuses to train you longer and drags you along on missions that are solely meant for him. 

Moreover, since you can never keep that pretty little mouth shut, anyone you meet clocks you as a Spherite within seconds—which means you need Enjin’s constant protection, whether you like it or not.

Enjin ends up spending less time drinking or chasing women, finding a far more amusing pastime instead—the way your face twists in indignation every time the Ground doesn’t live up to your so-called “noble standards.” 

He gets a kick out of it, really. Agitating you on purpose, just to watch you squirm.

“Goddamnit, Enjin! Watch it!” 

You’d shriek every time your short skirt went flying from a sudden gust of wind he’d whip up with Umbreaker. Enjin saves that lil trick for No Man’s Land when the others’ backs are turned.

“That’s Enjin-sensei to you, Princess.” 

“Choke—slowly, Trashy Poppins.”

You’d lunge for his mask like you actually meant to rip it off, but at 6 '3, Enjin’s tall enough that you never have a chance at reaching it. It’s all worth it too—Enjin’s already got every pastel scrap of lace you own burned into memory, each one tucked away like a reward for getting under your skin.

It’s a little sadistic, sure—the way he taunts you nonstop, delighting in soiling that polished image of yours to grind you into the dirt of the ground right along with him. 

There’s a fire in your eyes every time Enjin dubs you as “Your Royal Trash Princess”—or just “TP” if he’s feeling lazy. You never fail to rise to his bait, eager to prove yourself—and prove him wrong.

Enjin feels he’s owed a bit of amusement for all his troubles.

Doesn’t mean anything.

Yet the more Enjin pushes, the harder it is to ignore that your bratty spark isn’t just an attitude problem. It’s energy. Real, raw passion. The kind that could actually cultivate anima. He sees it best when you’re snapping at him, flushed and defiant, too stubborn to back down.

It’s trouble to be sure, but fuck if Enjin doesn’t love coaxing it out of you.

All it took this time to get you going was him doubting your so-called knowledge of plants and remedies— “what kinda ‘floral herbalist’ hasn’t toked one?”  

So now here you are, in the HQ lounge, about to smoke your first joint as a ‘pre-game’ to the happy hour Corvus organized for all the Cleaners.

You and Enjin sit shoulder to shoulder on a worn, black quilted-leather sofa that’s seen better days. The cushions creak as you nervously smooth your skirt and settle in, unhooking your jinki—Bubu—from your belt to set her gently on the table.

Enjin rolls a few joints with unhurried precision—like he’s got all the time in the world, and watching you squirm is part of the ritual.

“Bet ya didn’t have anything like this in your lil’ garden, eh TP?” Enjin quips, breaking the silence.

Nose already upturned, your face scrunches as Enjin tosses an extra bud from his stash into your open palms. You hated the nickname ‘TP’ most of all, too easily mistaken for ‘toilet paper’ and Enjin knows that.

You shoot Enjin a dirty look before letting your focus drift back to the brittle sprig in your hands—the first real plant you’ve touched since becoming a Ground-dweller.

You think you actually recognize it. 

Back on the Sphere, your family was among the wealthiest, and your garden was massive. You took pride in your green thumb—like Delmon, whose garden you’ve been meaning to ask about. You want to help, if only to see what kind of plants can survive in conditions this toxic. But Enjin never gives you the space—always hovering, always cutting in before you can finish a full conversation.

You brush off those thoughts but your frown stays as your fingers trace the bud’s dry veins. Even for a dehydrated sample, it feels wrong—brittle in a way that hints of sickness. 

“Hmm. We had something like this—I think. But it’s just another weed.” You say shrugging.

“Heh,” Enjin smirks at your cluelessness, “Would you believe me if I told you ‘weed’ is exactly what we call it, Princess?”

You roll your eyes at the inordinately simple name. It probably has a proper scientific designation—but expecting Enjin to know it? Please.

“We always uprooted them—weeds are unsightly in gardens, you know. A weed, let alone one sick as this, would definitely be pruned right away so as to not syphon nutrients from the other plant life.”

“HAH?!”  

Mid-seal on his joint, Enjin stops cold, staring at you like you just dared to commit some sort of sacrilege before exhaling a theatrical sigh, shaking his head in pure betrayal.

He can’t believe Spherities are probably pissing away the dankest shit ever cultivated. The thought was maddening.

When Enjin’s eyes do meet yours again, there's no amusement as he takes a rather chastising tone with you.

“Princess, for your own good, never repeat that in front of anyone down here…I mean it.”

You huff, but Enjin doesn’t blink—just starts sealing the joint again, eyes never leaving you as his tongue drags slowly across the edge of the paper.

You squirm, and that’s all the reward he needs. 

“See somethin’ you like?” Enjin drawls, holding the finished joint out toward you like it’s a gift—and not a trap with your name written all over it.

Turning on teacher mode, Enjin decides to school you.

“I know we mostly have ‘reggie’ down here, but still, it’s worth its weight in gold for its purposes. Not just for fun ya know—chronic pain, nausea, anxiety—gives a bit of relief from the ailments of Abyss-living you Spherites have so graciously bestowed on us.”

From his pocket, Enjin produces a lighter, shoulders curling as he bows into the flame to set it alight.

Your eyes flick over the sinewy stretch of Enjin arms, the way his jacket strains across his shoulders—reminding you just how solid Enjin really is beneath all that shapeless fabric. Built like a weapon, hiding in plain sight.

You watch as his ringed fingers lift the joint to his lips. Drawing in a slow, steady breath, Enjin sinks back into the sofa like gravity’s got a tighter hold on him than usual. Smoke pools in his chest before slipping out in a long, deliberate exhale.

His gaze follows it, distant—like he’s chewing on thoughts far heavier than anything you said… but somehow still set off by it.

“That’s the problem with you Spherites….you don’t see things the way they are—you see things the way you are.” 

Enjin chuffs at his own words, closing his eyes to let his high settle. Not even completely stoned yet and he’s already spouting off pseudo philosophical one-liners.

“Everything else is collateral, amirite?”

Ouch.

Toeing at the floor, you sulk in silence. Wounded from the verbal licks Enjin just dealt you. Mulling over his words in silence though, you know it isn’t that simple. Horticulture can be complicated even in the most ideal conditions. Just because a plant is viable doesn’t mean it belongs in every garden—some plants are just incompatible.

However…

You sit silently, your teeth worrying your bottom lip as you study the brittle bud in your palm.

…that doesn’t make it worthless.

Instead of exploring any potential use, you tossed the so-called "weed" out—just like everything else the Sphere deemed useless. Not even considering how valuable it could be. You can see why Enjin wouldn't want you repeating that mistake. Enough people already looked at you with disdain as it is. 

Sure there’s a lot of things you miss about it, mostly superficial things that had to do with vanity, but overall life up there was super sterile and dull. You’d never say it out loud but you are glad you fell, it was hard on the ground but it was liberating.

Sighing, you quietly concede. You hate anytime Enjin actually has a point though. It’s the worst thing imaginable—for your pride and for his already unbearable ego.

Cracking an eye open, Enjin curses under his breath. Switching tactics, he decides to replace the long look on his Trash Princess’s face. Annoyance would do just fine. Besides, there was no need for you to pout over it, you actually had a shot at redemption here… heh, the kind that might just work out in his favor, too.

“Y’knowwwww, we’re always learnin’ better ways to grow things down here, faster too...”

Enjin moves so quietly, you don’t realize how close he is until you turn—and he’s right in your face, barely a breath away. Swiping his ringed thumb across your cheek, Enjin’s touch is surprisingly tender. However his expression is entirely obnoxious, full of amusement from how fast your pouty little face flusters.

“...could be a nice little hobby that would do alotta good…and if anyone could figure out how to grow this shit properly down here—”

Enjin plucks at the heat of your warm cheeks, pinching just enough to tease and drag the moment into something more lighthearted.

“—I do believe it could be you—Trash Princess.”

Your eyes catch something deeper than just teasing in his golden gaze—but before you can dwell on it, instinct kicks in. You jerk back, swatting his hand away, shoving whatever that was out of your mind.

Enjin just laughs, unbothered, as you glare at him.

“And why can’t you get Delmon to do it?” you counter, arms folding across your chest. By now, you’ve learned Enjin usually has an angle for everything.

Right on the mark, for a beat, Enjin actually pauses. He hadn’t expected you to bring up the obvious—Delmon, the gentle giant practically martyred to the idea of saving what’s left of the Abyss. But Enjin’s roguish grin slips back into place, spreading wider as he leans in, unapologetically invading your space.

“Why? Well...’cause I asked you, Princess. The ol’lug has enough on his plate as it is. You can handle it alone, can’t ya?”

Truthfully, even knowing your interest in Delmon never strays beyond roots and soil, it still irks every time Enjin catches sight of you with him. You look every bit the noble—graceful, composed, eyes soft and curious as you gaze up at Delmon, eager to learn. It grates on Enjin more than he’d admit, knowing he’s never once gotten that look, despite monopolizing most of your time.

“Ya know—unless, your skillset just ain’t up t’par?” Enjin finishes with a shrug.

Wholly unconvinced, you see this for the bait it is from a mile away. Nevertheless, you can’t deny that you are eager to get even the tiniest bit of normalcy back in your life from your old hobbies. Planting something, anything, would be nice—even if it ends up being contraband for Enjin. Although you still aren’t quite sure why you can’t consult Delmon. 

“Ugh! Fine!”

You fall back onto the sofa and Enjin follows, his arm settling behind you, practically draped around your shoulders. You don’t even flinch. He takes another slow hit, smoke curling toward the ceiling, but this time there’s a wicked glint in his eye as he watches you. Deciding he’s babysat the joint long enough, he leans in with a lazy smirk and holds it out to you.

“Enjin—your eyes!” You blurt out, disregarding his invitation. “Is that just from smoking!? I can’t go to happy hour looking like some kinda zombie!”

Enjin sputters mid-laugh, coughing as wisps of smoke leak from the corners of his smart ass grin.

“Eh, well duh. Why else would they get so red when I smoke?”

Enjin coughs out a few more chuckles. You roll your eyes.

“I don’t know, Trashy Poppins…I didn't make the connection since the air quality down here is 80% pollution! You could have anything.”

While Enjin is amused by your sass, the joint continues to burn down. Each second unsmoked is wasting precious bud. Leaning in, his voice drops to a low purr—the kind that makes your stomach flip.

Heh, time to pull out the big guns.

“Aht-aht-aht, c’mon now, Princess, you know the golden rule…”

You sigh, thinking you need that happy hour drink more than ever right now.

“You’re not serious.”

But you know he is, and of course you remember the silly motto Enjin makes an unspoken rule for his team. Although he mostly just uses it to get you to do something you’ll usually regret later.  You sigh, knowing you’ll never make it to happy hour until you appease the big man-child in front of you.

Enjin’s golden eyes shine with even more mischief than before and together like some damn mantra, you both repeat:

“...it’s not peer pressure—it’s just your turn.”

Resigned, you click your tongue, swiping at the joint in his hands. But Enjin is much faster as he pulls back with infuriating speed. You glower at him, snark locked and loaded.

“Nah, actually I’ll help you out since it’s your first time, Princess.”

Innuendo coils around his words, heat radiating off him as you tense under his gaze. You don’t want to argue with him though, the sooner you smoked, the sooner you both could be at happy hour.

“Open.” 

Enjin’s fingers graze the corner of your mouth as he holds the joint to your peach-glossed lips, eyes darkening when you part them obediently for him.

“Now breathe it in, nice and slow…deeper. Yeah, that’s it—hold it. Don’t let go until I say—good girl.”

You want to scoff at him, but you can’t—not with tears stinging your eyes and smoke burning its way down your lungs. By the time Enjin gives you the nod to exhale, you’re already choking, coughing it all back up in ragged plumes.

Yeah, this was nowhere in hell as easy as Enjin made it look.

The buzz rises in your head almost instantly, an airy haze creeping into your consciousness.

“See? Not a terrible cherry pop, eh?”

The glare you throw at Enjin is more of a squint. Still recovering from the fire tearing down your throat, your coughs earn you a few heavy-handed smacks on the back from Enjin. If it’s out of comfort or mockery, you can't tell. 

Everything in the room is spinning and becoming more distant, like a daydream.

“Easy there, breathe—it’ll hit easier when ya figure out how to grow it right, Princess. The dank shit won’t burn this hard.”

You want to bite back that even if you do figure out how to grow the damn ‘weed’ plant, you’d never touch it again. But the sudden heaviness seeping into your limbs drags you down, tilting your head on the axis of equilibrium.

“I think, no—I know, I need to lay down.”

Not waiting for permission, you flop down onto the worn cushions beneath you, curling up awkwardly with your head leaning against the armrest and your legs dangling off the seat at an angle. 

Enjin doesn’t miss a beat though—he scoops your legs into his lap, tugging off your boots so you can be comfortable.

Leaning back, perfectly at ease, Enjin holds the joint in one hand while the other rests on your stocking-covered shin, giving it a casual, reassuring pat. The way your arm drapes over your face tells him everything—yeah, you’ve got the spins.

“Keh, you’ll make it, Princess. Just let it all ride out.”

You’d make it alright, but not to happy hour anytime soon. Enjin supposes he might’ve let you take a bigger hit than you were ready for. 

Whoops.

Silence stretches in the aftermath but it’s not uncomfortable. Enjin takes a few more lazy tokes, one golden eye cracked open just enough to watch you, taking stock of your state. 

It’s in moments like this—rare ones, when you’re quiet—that he remembers just how fucking smoking hot you are.

Especially in that Cleaner uniform. Man, God bless August.

The eccentric tailor took special care in designing it thanks to a sudden burst of inspiration—August even convinced Enjin to allow him to keep some of the trim from your Spherite clothes that he repurposes. The outcome of your uniform is shinier, more fitted and much sluttier than standard issue. 

You took to it immediately, without much fuss and actually complimenting August. That was August’s gift though—whipping up pieces to suit even the finickiest of tastes—and Enjin had to admit, the man did his big one. 

But the real surprise wasn’t the craftsmanship. It was you—his oh-so-prim little Trash Princess—strutting around in something so damn naughty. Dressed up like a treat that Enjin can’t help but eat up with his eyes.

And whaddya know? Enjin has the munchies bad right now.

Left to his own devices, Enjin takes his time devouring the sight in front of him. His gaze lingers down the length of your legs sprawled across his lap, to the soft, exposed flesh of your thighs—spilling over the edge of your stockings just enough to make his jaw clench.

Fuck, they look so soft. He can't help but wonder how they'd feel locked around his head as his eyes climb to the next indulgence—your crop top. Rucked up to your ribs, the thin white cotton hugs just beneath your tits. Shit, the way your cute little nips poke through the fabric makes his mouth twitch with the urge to say ‘hi’ right back—with his tongue.

Is it hotter in here, or—?

Leering at you for too long is a surefire way for Enjin to pop a boner. Enjin knows he’s not alone in that either. That uniform of yours turns heads in every city you pass through. Consequently, Enjin has split more skulls because of idiots trying to hit on you or cop a feel than he ever has for anyone trying to snatch a Spherite.

Not that he’s jealous or nothing.

Nah. Just doing his job. Watching out for you. Plenty of unscrupulous assholes out there willing to pounce on a clueless little thing like you.

However, right now, Enjin’s just as unscrupulous—‘watching out’ only for a flash of your panties as each restless wiggle sinks you deeper into the lumpy cushions, bunching your skirt higher and teasing him with a glimpse of skimpy lace.

Man, just a little more and he’d know exactly which pair you picked today.

Sobering up a bit more, you sigh at your inability to get comfortable when you could feel the very springs in the sofa. Stretching, you straighten your leg suddenly and—

“Yo! Watch the feets, girl!”  

Though there’s amusement in his voice as he jolts upright, tatted hands grabbing your ankle before you’re able to land another blow.

“Ah, sorry—” You mutter sheepishly, reeling back your foot. “I didn’t mean to kick Umbreaker.”

For what it’s worth, the apology comes quickly—you’ve learned better than to mess with a man’s jinki, especially Enjin’s. You've nearly tripped more times than you can count over that bulky extension of himself that he always keeps within reach.

You know it’s serious too when he doesn’t even bother with the stupid nicknames he usually calls you. Nevertheless, you’re left puzzled when Enjin’s laughter comes out loud and sharp. 

“...that wasn’t Umbreaker, Princess.”

Huh? What does he mean that isn’t— 

You freeze. 

Carefully peeking out from under your arm, your reddened eyes squint down the length of your body and onto his. When the realization does set in of what exactly you kicked, it smacks you harder than any hit of ganja ever could.

“O…oh…—OH MY GAWD!”

Immediately springing upright, your vertigo swirls with how fast you’re scrambling to your knees as you gawk.

Time passes for what seems like a solid minute or two and neither of you speak. 

You’re staring at the crotch of Enjin’s baggy pants and Enjin is staring at you.

“Heh.”

The devious look on Enjin’s face right now could shame the devil himself. Yet you’re still in utter disbelief.

There’s no way that’s his dick!

Still, your brain won’t stop running the numbers—high girl math with clumsy calculations drawn from the fleeting brush of your toes against the long, thick mass hidden beneath the fabric of his baggy pants. Enjin’s words ring in your mind like a gong—‘that wasn’t Umbreaker…’

“You’re burnin’ a hole through my dick, Princess—”

Enjin’s voice unfurls seductively, like the smoke curling from his lips.

“—keep starin’ like that and I’m gonna think you wanna see it.”

Your eyes meet his dead-on. 

“I do.”

“Yeah, I’m sure yo—wait, come again?!”

Enjin’s grip goes slack, the joint slipping from his fingers. He was halfway to some sassy quip, ready to taunt your denial—but your delivery is so honest, with no teasing or angle to play off, he doesn’t know what to do with it.

The embers hiss against his thigh before he even registers he dropped it.

“Tch.” Cursing under his breath, he flicks it aside—it’s all roach anyway—and tries to pull himself back together.

You’re fucking with him. Yeah. That’s it. 

Smug again, Enjin leans into the bit you started.

“Ha ha…right. I know my stuck up lil’ Trash Princess isn’t asking to give me a dick inspection…”

Enjin adjusts his pants in a casual sweep that doesn’t fool either of you. He’s not brushing off the remaining flakes of ash—he’s palming his restless cock that jumped at the idea of you actually wanting to see it.

But both you and Enjin would quickly discover, despite your snobby Spherite upbringing, you lose any type of filter and sense of couth while high—blurting out your thoughts unabashedly. 

“I said I wanted to see it, Trashy Poppins. Or m’not gonna believe you’re actually that big.”

You fold your arms, huffing stubbornly.

There was no way an unbearably annoying man like Enjin was slanging actual horse cock! 

He had to be the one fucking with you here.

Well, wait, no—a cocky, stupidly sexy man having a big dick actually tracks, now that you think about it.

But still—you need to verify. For science, if nothing else. 

Yeah. Science.

Enjin blinks, taking stock of you—kneeling close, your tits straining like they’re about to burst free, and your skirt rides so high on your thighs this time, he swears one more millimeter and he’d see your panties for real. 

“C’mon now…”

Your sickly sweet coos needle at Enjin’s spine.

“...as if you aren’t always upskirting me just to see my panties.”

Shit. You knew it was intentional?

“At least you can show me your undies for a change. If you’re really that big, then I’ll be able to tell.”

The spark alight in your eyes is a challenge to Enjin, who loves pushing your limits. Now he needs to know how far you’ll go. Even if he’s completely unprepared for this turn of events, he’s sure as fuck not gonna be the one backing down first.

“S’that right, Princess? Well, I haven’t even seen yours today so—”

Enjin doesn’t even get the chance to finish before you’re lifting your skirt and spreading your knees wider. You stare up at the ceiling, the popcorn squares suddenly appearing super interesting to you. Enjin’s eyes however immediately zero-in on the pink lace stretched tight across your pussy.

Christ.

With a much closer view, Enjin picks up all the little details he usually misses—like how the hem digs into your soft curves or how the material is thin enough to see the split of your chubby lil pussy lips pressed underneath. 

Goddamn, are you intentionally buying them a size too small? 

Or is your pussy print just that fat?

Enjin gulps, mouth dry. 

His attention caught like a hook to your cunt, everything else is unimportant—including the irony of how he was just teasing you for the very same thing—it’s all utterly lost on him. His priorities shifting rapidly the longer he ogles you.

After a minute, giving him quite frankly more of his fill than he deserves, you let your skirt drop back into place. The alluring spell of your fatma breaks when your  knees snap shut and Enjin is yanked back to a world that doesn’t exist between the apex of your doughy thighs. 

All of his lecherous starring is worth it though—if only to be able to throw his own saying back at him for once.

“Now, how’s it go again? It’s not peer pressu—”

“—Yeah, yeah, I got it, Princess—My turn.” 

Enjin relents, cutting you off with a twisted grin as he shakes his head.

“Ya don’t gotta break my arm to see my dick, babe. Just makin’ sure you’re sure. Don’t need you runnin’ off telling Semiu I flashed ya.”

Semiu is already on Enjin’s ass for teasing you as much as he does. Something about him being ‘too grown’ not to ‘nut up’ and ‘come to terms with his reality’, but Enjin was never listening for long, zoning out as soon as a new lecture was underway. 

However, if your prissy ass really wants to see his dick that bad, of course he’d oblige. Hell, Enjin would get another kick outta watching your horror when you realize for real just how much he’s packing. It had been a minute since he'd seen that look on a woman.

For being as hot and charming as he is, Enjin didn’t get nearly as much play as he should’ve. He isn’t a virgin by any means, but too many women take one glance at his size and back off expeditiously.  

Life on the ground meant hustling to survive for most. Nobody could afford to be laid up for days just because Enjin’s wrecking ball of a cock tore through their walls, rendering them unable to walk—let alone go to work.

Yet with a clink, that all changes as the leather strap of his belt and gear slides free. Enjin lifts his hips enough to shove his pants down past his thighs and there it is—short red boxer briefs with a black waistband, the fabric stretched thin over the obscenely long, thick outline of his dick resting along his thigh.

Simply put, your jaw drops. There’s a static-like silence buzzing in your mind as you process the monstrous mass of phallic muscle before you.

You’ve never seen a dick that huge in your entire life. 

Clocking your shock, Enjin’s chest puffs like he’s just been crowned a king in the room.

“Relax, Princess…” he drawls, smugness saturating every word.

“I ain’t even all the way hard yet.”

Bullshit! 

Your eyes pingpong between his face and his cock before landing on the obvious conclusion—no overthinking this time.

“What are you waiting for then? Get hard.”

Enjin actually chokes for real this time, still not used to how blunt his demure lil’ Trash Princess gets when she’s high. He manages to laugh regardless once he finds his breath as he sure as hell doesn’t hate this new side of you.

“Hah?! It doesn’t work like that ya know…”

Enjin lies right through his fucking teeth. 

Just hearing that vulgar command from your prissy lil’ lips has his blood surging south, his cock swelling at rapid speed. Already on go, his dickprint thickens, straining against the fabric until threads stretch thin to form almost obscenely over him like second skin.

Yet unlike his past hookups you don’t flinch at the sight of him getting even bigger. 

There’s more than enough incredulousness on your face for sure, but Enjin half expected you to backpedal for the sake of your pussy’s self-preservation and book it out the door. Instead, the look you’re giving his dick is more akin to awe than fear.

Truly, though—you are in awe.

Men weren’t like this on the Sphere. Well, your husband certainly wasn’t.

Older than you by over a decade, your husband’s stamina was so poor he never lasted long. His size, his endurance, and his dismissive comments about your sexual appetite being perversely unbecoming for a lady of your station had you wondering if something was wrong with you this entire time—if you expected too much from sex.

But when your eyes drift back to Enjin—catching the thick vein running along his length, visible even through the fabric—you know better now. 

It was never you.

The realization brings a surge of boldness. Your gaze trails the pulse of his cock down to the wet patch blooming at the tip—so much pre spilling it seeps through the fabric. 

Enjin inhales sharply through his nose. He knows he’s proven his size, but your silence and the way you’re eyeing his cock like some kind of museum exhibit is starting to get to him. 

Enjin doesn’t want to back down as he impatiently waits for your final verdict of approval. But if you keep staring at him like that, with those big pretty eyes of yours, he’s going to come in his pants, untouched, like some fucking cuck.

“Well, Princess? Big enough for ya?”

You don’t even hear Enjin, too lost in your own thoughts. Your body, buzzed and reckless, has a mind of its own though. Reaching out, your hand leaves your lap to trace the thick ridges of his cock, mapping its shape through his briefs. 

“Oh, shiiii—” Enjin hisses. 

His lip catches between his teeth as all thoughts vanish the moment your delicate little fingers start stroking him.

“Argh—fuck. Can’t jus’ go grabbing a man’s dick like that ya know.”

Yet Enjin does nothing to stop you as your touch grows bolder. Your palm flattens around his girth—too thick for even your whole hand to wrap around, even through his boxers.

How would someone even get something that monstrous inside them!?

Encircling his leaky cockhead, you giggle as your index finger slowly tap-tap-taps the mess he’s made there, amused at how many of the small, sticky suds you can gather on your finger through the material.

Enjin’s own laugh is strangled. This can’t be real.

“Heh… fuck… you really tryna kill me, huh, Princess? Fuckin’ tease…”

You’re unfazed by Enjin’s provocations – too mesmerized by the obscenely large cock in front of you that has you squirming uncomfortably as your own panties turn swampy with heat. 

“May I?”

Meeting Enjin’s gaze, your polite innocence is accented by a wide-eyed pout that’s far too sweet for the filthy implications of your request. Like you’re nicely asking permission to play with your favorite toy—except you don’t even wait for him to give it,fingers impatiently snapping the edges of his waistband like some cockhungry slut. 

“Uh…” Enjin blanks while his dick is practically screaming at him to respond—even a damned head nod would suffice. Yet his brain blue-screens as it registers that look—the normally innocent, curiosity filled look that he's been craving since he found you in No Man's Land—now twisted into something debased and filthy.  And best of all?

Meant just for him.

Enjin’s so fucking hard right now it’s painful—and hell, if you’re planning to do something about that, he’s not about to stop you.

“Keh. Do you, boo.”

Enjin manspreads, giving you full access. You eagerly pull down his shorts just enough to release his cock, and it springs free, thick and heavy. 

Good God, he’s a big boy! 

Although you knew that, seeing the monster in all of its unleashed glory was an entirely different experience. Enjin’s dick bobs back to curve towards his abs, a shiny pubic piercing shining at his base under its shadow.

Panting, your previously dormant inner size queen activates. You have to swallow down the bucket of saliva collecting on your tongue before you choke—you can’t help but salivate at the thought of what a huge cock like this tastes like… what it feels like. 

You’re pretty sure it could break you in two, and surprisingly, the thought excites you.

Lowering yourself on all fours, the first tentative lick you give Enjin’s length has his toes curling as he grips the sofa, ripping a chunk clean off the decaying material. 

You moan out a depraved 'ahhh' once you reach the top, a little smile playing on your lips as you tongue down the hole at his tip.  Greedily, you lap up all the little dribbles of pre beading at the tip and flowing out.

“W-Woaaah—ugh. FUCK!”

Enjin’s hand flies into your hair as he clears his throat. Sure, your mouthwatering stares made a blowie likely, but diving in this shamelessly? It’s enough to make him feel like he’s losing his damn mind.

You grip his base—an insurance policy to keep him from cumming—while your other hand cups his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze. His thigh jolts beneath you and you simper at how sensitive he is despite his massive size.

“T-There’s no way in hell they taught your prissy ass how to be this much of a slut up there.”

Pouting, you release his balls to cradle his cockhead against your puffed up cheek, uncaring of the amount of pre seeping across your jaw. 

“D-Do…do you hate it? My hus—um, ex said it was a turn off. H-he'd say I have 'the depravity of a slums streetwalker.”

Staring up at Enjin, your eyes are clouded with lust, yet edged with worry—like he’d threatened to rip something precious away.  But it’s only his cock you’re coddling tighter against your cheek, your lips parting just enough to chase the beads of pre that drip close to your mouth.

If you weren’t gripping Enjin’s base so hard he definitely would have blown a load all over your face. Fuck, if the thought isn’t tempting to him though – he doesn’t think you’d even mind in this state.  

Goddamn, you’re so much sluttier than Enjin could have ever imagined. 

And he’d imagined it plenty. 

Especially on nights Enjin stumbled back to HQ drunk and alone, having closed down the bar with Corvus and Gris. Left to sate his own booze-fueled boner, he’d shamelessly rut into his pillow. Yet, no matter where his perversions strayed, every faceless fantasy in the dark insisted on transmuting into you. 

You seriously think he couldn’t match your freak? 

Oh, sweetheart, you have no fucking idea.

“Hate it?” 

Enjin holds back the growl building at the back of his throat. There’s a torrent of thoughts swirling with his high all at once—all coming to settle right back into his dick. 

“Never. Show me who you really are, Princess—n’ I’ll give it right back to ya tenfold—that’s a promise.”

If you weren’t already trembling with arousal—finally free to let your freak flag fly—you might’ve shied away. Enjin’s easy acceptance of you stirs something deeper, something messy that you usually ignore before it can settle. Now, with his scent thick on your face and tongue, you’re not thinking at all—aching with the urge to all but inhale his cock.

You merely nod, flashing Enjin a coy smile before stretching your plush lips to wrap around him. Slowly, you swallow down his girth, mouth hot with suction so deliciously moist Enjin’s hips jerk up. You gag, but his firm grip on your roots keeps your head in place, forcing his length to breach your throat.

“That’s it, baby…open up f-f’er me—g-good fucking girl, Princess…”

Tears prick at your eyes as his cock pounds back of your throat. The stretch is brutal—but some desperate part of you craves more of his filthy praise. What you can’t take with your mouth, your hands make up for—stroking every thick inch your lips can’t swallow.

“Shiiiit, girl! You’re a pro at this.”

If you ask Enjin later, he’d probably call you a throat goat, however most of your “experience” came from the smutty paperbacks high-society wives hid in corsets and swapped under tea tables—not actual practice. You don’t really know what you are doing. You’re just following the book's explicit instructions. 

Still, Enjin doesn’t seem to mind being your test dummy. 

On the contrary, Enjin is more than happy to let you do your thing and he does just that. Although, the longer your head bobs along his cock, the more your skirt rides up—until it finally flips over your hips, giving him a perfect view of the cheeky lace framing your ass.

Enjin groans, gripping your ass with bruising force before sliding his fingers down to palm your pussy over your panties—fuck, you’re already dripping for him.

“Hah—uppity cunt gets this sloppy just from a lil’ dick sucking, eh?”

Enjin laughs, yet the gravel rattling in his voice betrays him. No one has ever fearlessly tried to deepthroat him and actually fucking enjoyed it. 

Unable to respond with your mouth, too busy still trying to do the impossible and fit more inside your throat, your hips respond instead—wiggling desperately against his fingers, begging for more of his touch. 

Enjin doesn’t hesitate. Slipping a tatted finger into your panties, he drags it through your folds, marveling at how wet and scorching you are. Pushing into your core, your walls clamp down, fluttering around his digit.

Oh fuck, even his fingers are big! 

A second ringed finger follows – the rough, callous fingers of a man who's seen too many fights scrape so good against all your gooey spots. Lewd squelches echo from your pussy as your throat tightens around him in tandem. The sounds, the squeeze, the heat—all of it is driving him crazy.

Shit he’s gonna cum for real this time. 

To his credit, Enjin tries to warn you—tries to pull you off before it’s too late. 

He doesn’t wanna risk pissing you off and having you refuse to ever do this again. Enjin still wants to fool around more;, he wants to fuck you. It’s that thought—your pretty pussy lips splitting open to swallow him instead—that has him busting his hot seed down your throat in thick, hot pulses.

“HAHH—FUHH!”

Releasing your hair, Enjin half expects you to pull away, furious he hadn’t warned you.  Instead, your nails dig into his thigh, steadying yourself. You moan around him, the vibrations rippling through his sensitive cock while you work him for every last drop, his hips jerking beneath you.

Only when you’re certain you’ve drained him do you pull back, swollen lips coming off his cock with a wet pop. 

“Allll go-neee S-Sheee? HAhhhhh~♡”

Tits jiggling as you heave for air, you present your tongue to Enjin as proof you’ve swallowed all of him. Every. Filthy. Drop.

“Oh fuck me… you’re a nasty lil’ Trash Princess, aren’t you?”

You can’t help but agree—your throat’s wrecked and your pussy’s aching to be used just as thoroughly. Enjin’s fingers aren’t inside you any more, although they are still on your pussy, running through your folds absentmindedly.  

“Ngh—n-eed m-more,” you slur.

All your decorum was lost to the wind the moment you asked to see his dick—you don’t even care that it’s Enjin of all people that you just gave head to. Suddenly, the obnoxious pain in your ass seems like your only deliverance. Right now, you're more frustrated that you've spent so much time bickering with him when you could have been fucking him.

You much prefer his moans to anything else coming out of his mouth.

You need him to get hard again—immediately!

Enjin, mind mushy with release, takes another joint out to light. As much as he wants to return the favor after that kind of sloppy top, the man needs a minute.  His high has his whole body tingling from the post release sensitivity.

But you can’t wait any longer. It’s been god knows how long since you’ve had a proper orgasm and those were only from your own small, fumbling fingers. Throat achy and raw, you quiver at the masochistic thought of how his cock is going to absolutely obliterate your pussy.

You slide your panties down before flinging off your jacket and top.  Taking a seat on Enjin's lap, you're now clad in just your bra, your skirt that's bunched up at your hips, and thigh highs. Grabbing his cock, you give his soggy, half-hard girth a few encouraging pumps.

Your pussy is already slobbering, a viscous string of syrupy slick drips down from your slit to land on his cockhead, connecting you to him as you line him up. 

Feeling your fingers around his length, Enjin's eyes fly open, balancing the joint between his lips as he quickly shrugs off his own jacket, checking the pockets.

“Woah, woah. Slow your roll there sweetheart—you’re skipping a few steps.”

You aren’t listening though, not giving a fuck what Enjin is talking about as you cry out, grinding your clit against his fat tip, before running it back through your folds.

Enjin grits his teeth, coughing out smoke as he holds the joint in one hand and your hips in the other. You’re being a brat again, not listening to a single word he’s saying. 

“Gotta find my rubbers…also gotta stretch you out better, Princess—you’re gonna split in two if I don’t.”

You whimper, petulant and needy. You press his cockhead against your entrance, swiveling your hips like you’re going to recklessly sink down on him at any second.

“Huh? Rubbers?” You shake your head in confusion, pouting. “m’Ennnnjiiiiin…I can’t wait that long—puh-leaseee don’t make me wait s’long, Enjiiiiin. I can take it, promiseee!”

The way you sweetly coo his name is shattering any sense of self-control Enjin has left. The urge to submit you to the ultimate corruption surges hot through his veins, but Enjin knows how big he is and while he did want to break you, he didn’t want to hurt you in the process. You are absolutely nuts to want to ride him with so little prep—now, on top of everything else, you apparently wanted him to fuck you raw.

Wait—did you just ask what rubbers were? Did you not have condoms on the Sphere?

But any lingering concerns dissipate the second you start fighting to get his tip inside you.

“Too s-slow!” You groan.

Fear is the last thing on your mind—evident in the way you impale yourself on him, defiant even against the impossible stretch. Your pussy is tight around the swollen head of his cock, strangling it as your nails dig into his shoulders. You grind in slow, desperate circles. Tears roll down your cheeks as you bite them to keep from crying out, your body fighting against every inch.

Enjin watches with a dark glint in his eyes – you trying so hard for him makes him want to flip you over and fuck you into the cushions. But he’d let you have it at your own pace…for now. 

Releasing your hip, Enjin spits into his palm, rubbing his slick fingers over your clit in slow steady circles. 

“Such a hard-headed girl—c’mere…”

Enjin takes a long drag from the joint, balancing it between his fingers as he grabs the back of your neck. His lips crash into yours before you can think.

You gasp and Enjin takes the opportunity to exhale the smoke deep into your lungs, taking the harshest of the hit himself. You're left with only the smooth, earthy flavor warming your chest before it melts through your limbs.

But it’s the way he kisses you after that really knocks the ground out from under you. His tongue pushes past your lips, tangling with yours—hungry, messy, like he wants to steal the little air you have left until you’re only breathing him in.

Your arms wrap around his neck, hands buried in his soft buzzed undercut, anchoring yourself. You moan into his mouth and he swallows it greedily, teeth nipping your lower lip before diving right back in. All the while, his thumb keeps grinding into your clit, faster now, like he’s keeping rhythm with the pulse that’s beating under your skin.

Why does it feel this good? How is he doing this to your body? S’not fair! 

Not realizing you could feel this good from a kiss, you're unraveling in real time. Your mind goes blank with every pulse, every word, every inch. You’re not even fully seated yet, but you can already feel the blunt head of his cock grinding against your cervix, the pressure building with each centimeter you drop. You never imagined you could feel this full—like he might actually breach your womb.

The thought alone has you trembling, unstable, your aching thighs giving out, causing you to slide down a bit too fast. The thick veins along his length rake across your g-spot and your body snaps. A sharp, helpless spasm rocks you as your breath catches and a small, unexpected orgasm rolls through you.

Enjin pulls back just enough to let you breathe, though your body doesn’t stop shivering, lost in a blur of pleasure and pain.

“Eh... did you just cum, Princess?”

The question is rhetorical, full of smug amusement, as he can feel the increasing wetness leaking down his cock, making it all the easier for you to slide down.    

Teasing your earlobe, Enjin’s tongue dips in to flick at the shell of it, making you clench.

“HA! Good fucking girl! A lil’ more and I bet she’ll be a real squirter f’er me.”

Enjin beams, proud of his Trash Princess. No woman had ever taken him this deep—not even close. Enjin hadn’t expected you to be any different. And yet…when Enjin looks down, he releases a groan deep from his gut.

The sight alone almost has Enjin nutting in you -- your drooling cunt spread so wide around his girth, sitting almost at his base. A thought flashes briefly – it's kinda like he’s a virgin again. Parts of his dick had never experienced this kind of molten heat so maybe, in a sense, he is? Enjin didn’t fucking care if he was though, as he ain’t about to be with the way your pretty pussy is giving way like it’s made for him. 

“Run that back.”

Enjin takes the final drag, pinching the smoldering end of the joint between his fingers before flicking it aside. He leans in again, slower this time. There’s no rush in how his mouth seals over yours. The second shotgun is less about the smoke and more about the feel of you—your lips parting for him, your breath syncing to his, and the small whimper you make as he sucks slowly on your tongue.

The haze spreads between you both, thick and warm. Simultaneously, his knuckles tease your clit, a soft schlick sound filling the space between you from you getting wetter by the second. By the strength of some unknown force, you finally bottom out, immediately collapsing into his neck. 

You both moan. Enjin feels you quivering from the inside out and you feel him everywhere—shifting your guts into your ribs. 

“I…I did it.”

Your smile blooms soft against his inked skin, lips grazing the spot where you can feel his own pulse hammering wildly.

Enjin’s in no state to congratulate you on your impressive feat. Completely sheathed in you raw, coring out your gummy walls into the shape of his dick—something in his brain chemistry fizzles. Like a bit of pussy juice, acting as a catalyst, slipped into his dick and traveled straight to his prefrontal cortex to corrode all of his previous thoughts about you. The result is clear.

Enjin doesn’t give a fuck if you are a snobby, annoying, needy lil’ brat who never let him get away with shit and bitches at him constantly—the furtherest thing from his type.

Because honestly?

Motherfuck a bullshit-ass type. Your slutty ass pussy is fuckin’ perfect. 

For the first time, Enjin realizes he might be in love with you. 

How could he even look at another woman after this?

One thing if for certain—Enjin is going to make damn sure you never have the desire to even look at another man.

Both his hands trail up your hips, groping and squeezing the plump curves of your ass before settling at your waist. His blunt black nails dig into your skin to pull you back from his neck.

Enjin whistles, admiring the stagnant stream of spittle lingering on your chin. Look at you—cockdrunk just from sitting on him. 

Enjin doesn’t think he’s ever seen you look more beautiful.

“Enjiiiiiin,” you whimper, not being able to hold yourself up. 

But your cries for him only inflame the predatory smirk on his lips, your honeyed cunt hugging his cock so beautifully. 

“Makes sense you fell from heaven, huh Princess?” 

Whether you're ready or not, Enjin forcibly winds you on his cock in slow circles. Your clit brushes up against the well placed pubic ring like a reward for being the first to experience it.

“—cause this pussy’s a fuckin’ angel.”

Your eyes are already lodged in your skull so you can’t even roll them at his cheesy line. But if your pussy is an angel, then Enjin's dick is most definitely a demon—his sinful cock tearing through your insides and condemning you straight to hell.

Moaning loudly, your body moves on autopilot—chasing more friction from the rhythm Enjin set. Good thing everyone was at happy hour or you would for sure be attracting some major attention now.

Although, to be honest you probably wouldn’t notice anyway. You don’t even notice when your bra falls away, your tits spilling out just so Enjin could watch them jiggle in his face. You only register its disappearance once his mouth latches onto one of your nipples, his tongue finally saying it’s ‘hello’.

“Shiiiiit!”

Your hips stutter, then stall when Enjin tugs at your sensitive bud with his teeth.

“Hey…I know my Trash Princess ain’t tappin’ out just yet.” 

SMACK!

Enjin brings a heavy palm down on your ass and your pussy clenches tighter around him. Enjin relishes the way your plush curves mold to his hands, each smack adding to the wet, messy sounds between you. You’ve already leaked enough on his lap to stain the sofa beneath you.

“Nah, ya just got on the ride, baby. Giddy-up.”

SMACK!

“NNNGH!” You weakly glare daggers at him. 

Any softness on Enjin’s face has since been replaced by something far more mischievous. If you thought he was obnoxious before—you’re about to learn he’s a full-blown menace inside of pussy.

Wobbling, you gather together what little resolve you have left to roll your hips forward. 

“HAAH! S’too biiiiiig,” you whine but your body can’t stop.

The juices saturated between you grant enough momentum to finally get a good, smooth bounce going.

“Fuck—that’s it, ride it like it’s yours, baby.” Enjin encourages you.

The way you cream harder every time he calls you 'baby' doesn't go unnoticed.

“Oh? You like me talking sweet to the pussy, baby girl?—Or do you just like being my filthy lil’ trash slut, hm Princess?”

Gritting your teeth, you grab on to Enjin’s shirt like reins, pulling him closer to you. 

“Y-You’re…gonna—ahshiiiit—hafta f-fuck m’better than thisss…if you want m-me to be your ‘baby girl’—Trash Daddy.”

Unfortunately, your sass falls flat—you can barely keep your head from lulling to the side. But Enjin’s thoroughly entertained nonetheless—he’ll take ‘Trash Daddy’ over ‘Trashy Poppins’ any day.

“Bet.”

Electricity runs through Enjin. He’s all charged up—now it’s his turn to unleash.

Your brow furrows from the noise Enjin makes—you’re not sure if he just laughed or snarled. But it's the only warning you get. 

Sliding down the sofa a bit, adjusting himself for stability, Enjin spreads his legs, planting his feet firmly on the floor as he bullies his cock up into you like he's breaking in his own personal fleshlight.

All you can do is go slack, falling forward on his chest. His grip bruising your hips, not allowing you to run from the way his blunt cockhead plows into your womb like a battering ram. 

The couch beneath you groans, its frame creaking under the strain. The wood and leather protest like the entire thing might fall apart at any moment.

“Enjinnnnn, m’slowwww dowwwnnn!” 

Your cries only fuel his frenzy and Enjin knows from the way you’re gushing on him you can take it.

Fuck—this sweet lil’ pussy is just so good for him. Imagine if he never met you. 

If you never—

Enjin cuts the thought off cold. 

Moving before you can blink—your world flips. One second he’s pummeling up into you, the next you’re on your back. 

Enjin peels away his shirt, muscles flexing as he looms over you. His hands curl around your ankles to keep them pinned overhead. A single bead of sweat catches your bleary eyes as it slides down his bare chest, gliding over firm muscle. The bold ink patterns seem to come alive on his skin. He looks so fucking sexy right now and you can’t help but to shamelessly ogle him.

Yet, there’s something much too serious and somber about Enjin’s current demeanor. You’ve been staring at him far too long to go unnoticed. The highly expressive, sassy powerhouse is rarely this silent. He should be teasing you right now, asking some smartass shit like if you’re ‘enjoying the view’. 

“Enjin?”

Your sweet voice hits his ears and instantly you have his attention again. Enjin flashes you a pearly white smile.

“Heh, enjoy the break, Princess? You wont get another.”

Ignoring the question in your eyes, Enjin folds you into a mating press, thrusting to the hilt all in one motion. The sound of flesh lewdly slapping against flesh fills the room, as do your cries.

But there’s still something else burning in his eyes. Enjin knows it’s unfair not to be honest with you, but taking out his unspoken feelings on your pretty pussy is the only way he can express himself at the moment. 

Suddenly, there’s a loud creak followed by a decisive snap and two of the sofa’s legs give out. If your sweat and cum weren't like glue on the old leather you’d surely slide off head first. You yell out in alarm, but Enjin doesn’t give a fuck about the damn sofa.

His mood is still soured by the thought that wouldn’t be shaken away until he confronted it—

If you never fell.

But you did. He found you—and now that Enjin has you under him like this, he needs to fuck the point he’s concluded into you:

If Rudo ever finds a way to the Sphere, Enjin will personally travel there and see to your ex-husband himself. 

Hell, he might even rail you in front of him a few times—show him what a real man could do. Maybe even a real…husband?

If the sounds of sloshing fluids and skin slapping skin weren't ringing so loudly in your ears that it drowned out everything else, you would have thought Enjin had lost his mind with the way he was cackling above you.  He sounds completely deranged, laughing at the idea of him finally wanting to settle down all while continuing to pound you deeper into the broken sofa.

But despite being high off weed and your pussy, Enjin’s mind has never been more clear—he wants to lock you down.

“Hah… P-Princess, can ya feel me in your tummy? Right…” Enjin’s golden eyes lock on the ever-so-slightly distended bulge from the monstrous intrusion in your guts.

“....right, here.” 

Throwing your legs over his shoulders, his large hands splay across your sweat sheened belly. You’re squirming under the heat of Enjin sandwiching your guts between his palm and his cock. Its all far too much—you’re too full, unable to really focus on what Enjin’s saying.

“Ahh, E-Enj—m’ c-cum, g-gonna mmm…” you hiccup, swallowing your tears.

Your nails rake down his arm to ground yourself but your body is thrumming too hard, adrift in the rush rolling through every one of your wired nerves. Your tits bounce obscenely every time your velvety walls devour his cock back down to the base. Enjin’s pubic piercing bucking against your clit has you clutching onto his dick like you were about to break it off.

You feel so fucking good. Enjin desperately needs to feel you creaming on his cock, and you would be soon if your kitten nails raking down his arms– adding more red to his already inked skin– were any indication. 

“That’s it, Princess, hah—fuck, baby, I got you. Squirt for your Trash Daddy.”

As if on command, the knot inside you coils to its breaking point, prickling every nerve, releasing a warm rush of fluids. Your body tingling in ecstasy, you quickly tumble over your peak, eyes blinded by speckles of brightness as you cum.

Yet Enjin hasn't slowed, his continuous pounding forcing more of your cum and squirt to gush out of you—the melody of his now drenched balls colliding with your wet ass only growing loude

“Fuck, that’s it. Pussy cryin’ like she wants my cum, Princess…” 

You’re barely conscious from all the pleasure, eyes rolling back into your head. 

“She’s jealous that slutty throat of yours got all my cum, now it’s her turn to swallow, isn’t that right?”

It’s a rather roundabout way for Enjin to ask if he can nut inside you, but then again, he wasn’t really asking. The thought of breeding you makes him feral. 

“Ahh—f’nnghhhh!”

Non-verbal and fucked dumb, you’d probably agree to anything right now. You’re an utter mess–pussy stretched beyond anything you thought possible, face sticky with slobber rolling down to pool in the folds of your neck. 

“O’course it is…gonna dump all these trash babies into my princess’ sweet lil’ cunt.”

Although you are super turned on by the thought of Enjin breeding you, there's no way you have any idea how serious Enjin is about putting a baby in you. How could you? You don’t even realize the love confession his cock is professing to you.

“FUHHHH—take it!”

Enjin pumps thick ropes of his cum into your tummy as his body thrashes on top of yours. The primal intensity has you vibrating as another orgasm rips through your overstimulated and overworked pussy. Filled the brim, his spunk overflows, sploshing out of your pussy as he rocks his hips, urging his seed deeper to plant right in your womb.

In the afterglow, the two of you lie off-kilter in a tangled heap on the broken sofa. There’s blood rushing to your head— not the worst place for it, you think, all things considered. Enjin’s weight is heavy, his chest heaving into yours, warm and sticky as he wraps you in his arms. 

Just as you feel you both might drift off like this, Enjin stirs. Flinching, you whimper as Enjin wills himself up, his cock sliding out of your pussy with a squelchy suctioning noise. Your knees part for him with zero resistance as he inspects his handiwork, peeling apart your battered pussy lips to reveal your dug out slit. 

“Whewww,” Enjin whistles at the sight of the thick creampie glistening in your core. “All this cum your cute pussy pulled outta me—you’d think she was my jinki.”

Sober, you likely would have slapped him for referring to your pussy as his vital instrument. But ecstasy clouds your logic, so high off endorphins and other substances, you only giggle. It is kinda funny you suppose.

“Yeah—squirtin’ on command like that. Definitely an attack type.”

Spread open, the thick plug of spunk froths out of you. But Enjin simply tuts, pushing it right back in, not wanting to waste a single drop.

“Yeah, how about that, ’mma duel wielder! Yup, definitely gotta name ‘er now—what you thinkin’ I should call her, princess?”

Enjin sees the way your pretty cunny is twitching, and in his pussy drunk mind, it's an approval. The spasms that still quake through you are like tremors of Morse Code—your slutty pussy agreeing with him, begging for more. Flipping you over on your belly, Enjin is more than happy to fulfill any request of his new vital instrument.

“Got it! Cumbringer! The Umbreaker and The Cumbringer. Nice ring to ‘em, dont’cha think?”

Cumbringer!?

Later, you would definitely regret being so thoroughly fucked out of your mind you didn’t put a stop to this. Enjin is most definitely going to be insufferably proud of himself for the next 3-6 business weeks. He’d lord this over you and tease you with not-so-subtle hints around the rest of the cleaners. 

Yet, as Enjin is swabbing his huge cock through your folds, you feel the ache of loss in your core, wanting to be filled again and you can’t seem to find the fucks to care—you just needed more of his dick, like…now.

Pleased with your compliance, Enjin thumbs the dips at the small of your back, perching your ass up so your back arches real nice.

“Trash Daddy’s gonna take real good care of Cumbringer from now on, too. Make ‘er live up to the name.”

When Enjin pushes into you again, the new angle has him bullying against your g-spot with even more intensity than before. Seeing the way you jolt, he holds back from going as deep this time to directly abuse the spot. Slick runs down your legs and despite how slippery the ruined leather cushions are beneath you, Enjin still holds you firm as his cock sloshes through your ruined pussy.

“Say, how much anima you think is in my nut, Princess?”

You don’t respond but Enjin, proving to have the stamina of a beast, feels like he should give you at least two more doses just to be sure.

⛓

Fading in and out of a euphoric stupor, you’re unsure how much time passes. Absolutely cockdrunk, at some point, you’d simply just surrendered. Your pussy clearly has zero complaints about being a jinki for Enjin’s cock and you are too dumb once you get a lil dick to stop him.

Somehow, you’ve ended up folded over the wide coffee table. It’s unstable beneath you, but Enjin doesn’t seem to care what he breaks when he’s fucking you. He only moved from the sofa when the back of it finally broke.

Straining, you think you hear voices but everything feels so far away and fuzzy. The room gets darker and you realize Enjin’s thrown his coat over you. Still sheathed deep inside you, Enjin’s cock plants lazy kisses to your womb as he speaks rather casually to someone.

Hmm, did he get a call? Is that Semiu?

Semiu is likely calling, wondering why you both haven’t shown up to happy hour yet—shit. There’s no way you’re making it in this condition; your limbs are toast. You can’t even move the weight of Enjin's bulky jacket off of you, the heavy material trapping you in the humidity of your own breath and sweat. But in a way, the warmth is comforting. Your cheek resting against the wood, you allow the tent of muggy heat and his cock moving languidly inside you to lull you into complacency— in your delirium, everything feels like a nice dream.

Yet Enjin is fully alert, a shit eating grin on his face as he stares down Semiu and Gris who had just walked in on Enjin shamelessly beating your doonies down. Enjin only spared your modesty by covering you up, but he has no qualms with either Gris or Semiu seeing him in all his glory and doesn’t even bother pulling out of you.

A fact that is painfully clear as he pats the pockets of his jacket draped over you for his cigs—he might as well smoke if he’s giving you a break.

“I win,” Semiu turns to Gris, hand out expectantly.

Semiu’s cool expression never changes but there is amusement in her eyes as Gris fishes into his pockets and places a stack of bills into her hand.

“Tsk, damn…” Gris shakes his head, although he’s not shocked. 

The two of you are down so horrendously bad for each other that this should have happened long ago as far as everyone else was concerned. The tension has been at an unbearable level for those around you, the way the two of you picked at each other non-stop like a kid’s first crush.

Alas, you’re an airhead and Enjin is so stubborn he’s delusional. So the older Cleaner members couldn’t help, but place bets on when and where you and Enjin would finally slip between the sheets. Its a shame that you weren't in one of your beds right now--in between actual sheets--instead of the lounge becoming collateral damage.

“You know, after all the game you talked about winning your money back at poker tonight, Bro said you were a no-show because you knew you were gonna lose…” Gris eyes the boneless, quivering lump that is you under Enjin’s jacket. 

Enjin really did a number on you. Your nonsensical babbles pouting for Enjin to ‘make sure to tell Semiu to bring you back some fries from the bar’ obviously means you have no idea that they are actually in the room.

“But it looks like you have your ‘ace in the hole' for an entirely different game.”

Enjin chortles. His hips stutter forward a bit too hard and you squeak in protest, he just hushes you.

“Awe, so you came back all this way to check-up on us? How sweet,” Enjin says sarcastically, taking a drag from his cigarette.

“Hardly. Rudo accidentally chugged an entire beer he thought was soda—then proceeded to throw it all up over Zanka,” Semiu says flatly. 

Enjin attempts to hold back his laughter as Semiu continues with a sigh. She explains thatGris helped carry Rudo back, promptly putting his little blacked out ass to bed. Zanka locked himself in the bathroom immediately upon returning.

“Although they're sure to be occupied for the rest of the night, since the kids are back in the building you need to wrap this shit up Enjin—she looks like she could use the break anyway.”

Semiu casts a sympathetic look your way. She did warn you about Enjin though, so he was your mess to deal with now. 

“Sure thing,” Enjin says, patting your form underneath his coat, “I’ve trained my new jinki well enough for tonight.” 

Semiu takes one look at the absolutely diabolical grin on Enjin’s face and decides she's already had enough of his shit for the night.

She sighs again. “Just hurry it up, alright?”

Enjin gives Semiu a cheeky salute. Yet the second her back is turned, Enjin mimes a dramatic chef’s kiss to the air for Gris. Enjin’s eyes roll back like he’s just had the best meal of his life. 

Gris snorts, shooting him a wink and a thumbs-up for a ‘job well done’ like a proud teammate before heading out of the room as well.

“One more thing.”

Semiu pauses in the doorway, hands resting on the double doors, surveying the crime scene-like state of the lounge. The sofa is toast, the coffee table’s on life support, and there's a growing puddle under you, spilling over to slowly drip off its edge onto the floor.

“If you’re just going to recklessly rawdog her, at least get her on the pill. Alice can sort that out tomorrow—right after you replace every piece of furniture you’ve both annihilated.”

Enjin simply shrugs, taking another drag of his cigarette.

“I suppose…we can stop by Alice’s too.” 

Semiu just rolls her eyes, only to wrinkle her nose as a wave of stale air wafts by.

“And for the love of god—crack a window. Smells like fresh ass in here.”

Once the doors finally click shut, Enjin rips his jacket off of you and smiles. You’re still blissed out in lalaland while your pussy, Cumbringer, is clenching around him like she has one more go left in her.

Grabbing your arm, he pulls you up. Still sheathed inside you, he sits back on his knees, bringing you with him, your back pressed against his chest.

“Mmmm—*yawns* Was that Semiu on the call, Enj?”

Call? Oh, heh.

“Ha, yeah baby girl, just Semiu on the line,” Enjin lies too easily. 

It’s for your own benefit though–no need to ruin your bliss with anything silly like embarrassment or shame from being walked-in on. Hell, unless Semiu says something, Enjin might be able to get away with not ever telling you.

“She said they ran outta fries though. I’ll get ya some later, yeah? Jus’ need Cumbringer to clock in one more time, Princess...”

Enjin rocks his hips with yours in a slow wave and your pout melts, no longer caring about the fries. Your head tips back onto his shoulder as he wraps his arms around you.

“Ah, mmmm, b-but—ngnh!  She mentioned something about hotdogs and getting pills tomorrow? Is that a mission?”

Enjin hums to keep from laughing as he turns your face towards him. He smirks devilishly against your lips.

Distracting you with sweet chaste kisses, Enjin rubs gentle circles over your womb. You’re gonna be so fucking hot waddling around HQ in your slutty ass uniform, tits leaking and belly full with his brats. 

The only pill he’d get from Alice would be a fertility pill.

“Nothing my slutty baby girl or my Cumbringer gotta worry about, Princess. Leave everything t’me.”

𝐚𝐧: ahh tysm for reading, especially if you are new to my writing. enjin brain rot is lethal. i needed to get this outta my system! jjk girlies forgive me for straying from my wip list and kinktober lol. definitely down to write more of him. i have a p2 and another enjin story (an AU) idea. but i have to focus on my jjk kinktober now! ♡

okay hear me out i feel like he’s mostly a dual mix of moaning and heavy breathing that’s on the brink of being considered a groan w occasional whimpers as he gets close 

umm i feel like he’d be a bit embarrassed to be too loud so be nice and vocal and he’ll match your pitch

he is inexperienced (duh) buuuttttt he will 100% let you guide him unless ur the same level of cluelessness then expect a half cute and half mildly second-hand embarrassing attempt of him floundering around as he tries to lead 

he hypes up his pull out game and will passionately go on about self control or whatever but in the end you will have to push him away his pull out game is ass don’t fall for it (¬_ ´¬ )

i think overall sex with him is good if you’re looking for something sweet okay? he is a caring, adoring lover i think

the first time you guys get at it it’s starts while you guys were making out on his bed when you begin to straddle him, he gets hard and he’s absolutely mortified and apologizing profusely. but eventually after a lot of coaxing he’ll lift his shirt up and hold it with his mouth exposing his tummy (#needthat) and chest. (i feel like he’s kinda skinny but there’s like a faint trace of muscle) his glorious v line that has a dark, faintly haired treasure trail adds to your growing anticipation (and his nervousness cause ur kinda freaking him out cause he thinks ur so pretty and funny and gosh he doesn’t want to seem like a loser infront of you!! .·°՞(ᗒ□ᗕ)՞°·. ) but anyways he’ll unbuckle his belt and lets his shorts slid down just enough for his cock to spring out and slap his tummy as he whimpers a bit from the cold (you then give him crazy head trust) 

i also feel like he cums super abruptly too? not prematurely just like…oddly suddenly 😭?? he’ll get embarrassed and a bit upset if you bring it up though. no he cannot fix it. yes he has tried. 

he is okay with topping or bottoming honestly whatever make you comfortable HOWEVER i do feel like he would prefer to bottom so he can play with ur boobs 

boobs guys all the way

he luvsss pinching and playing with your nipples 

i can see him topping but beware if he does its basically cuddlefucking his arms give out 

and when they do he’ll tuck his face in your neck and stutter out all sorts of lovey dovey stuff mixed in with whimpers and the occasional tear when he gets close

“nnghh..o-ohh my god, you feel so g-good! hah..i loveyousososommph—holy ffffffuuck!”

he has an okay stamina like 1-2 rounds 

make sure you guys him time to cool off though he gets superrr sensitive

or not 

he’ll be flustered and a bit confused if you try going back-to-back but you’ll have to top otherwise he can’t handle it :(( he’ll let you use him while gets fucked through the sensitivity while he digs his fingers in your hips and bites his lip, his eyes scrunched shut in concentration cause he doesn’t want to cum too soon 

ohhh my gosh the whines he lets out are heavenly though 

his favorite positions are cowgirl, missionary, or lotus

honestly he’s up for anything as long as he can see your face 

but it’s funny cause he gets kinda flustered when you guys make eye contact but he luvs it a lot it makes him a feel warm and fuzzy knowing that it’s him (really him!!) that’s making you feel good and he just loves you in general augh (˶˃ ∇ ˂˶)

he isn’t really kinky but he is a sucker for praise 

yes tell him how cute he is or strong or anything basically and he melts

doesn’t matter if him or you is leading give him praise let him know he’s doing good!! 

which is another reason why he wants to see your face he wants to make sure you’re enjoying yourself plus he just thinks you’re so cute and he loves just taking in your beauty 

i feel like if you’re into kinky stuff he’ll do it/let you do it to him as long as it’s not too mean 

dislikes degrading 

why would he ever want to be mean to you :((

and i think his heart wouldn’t be able to handle you being mean to him either 

so feel free to edge him or choke him just make sure you kiss him and give him proper aftercare (cuddling with your chests pressed together, heart to heart while you stare into each others eyes) 

i don’t think he would be able to choke you tbh

maybe like a bit but it’s scares him a little 

now for the moment of truth….can he find the clit?

no 

honestly he thought it would be pretty self explanatory but assuming you’re his first serious relationship umm he might need a little guidance

which brings me to my next point: he is a munch just not a great one okay 🥹…

like he’ll GLADY go down on you but he doesn’t know half of what he’s doing help him out 

i feel like he’s smart enough not to finger blast you but that also means that he goes like…impossibly slow while fingering you

you’ll have to teach him 

just make him suckle on your clit (once you show him where) and ur good 

tbh i feel like the first time he goes to eat you out it’ll start good like he (after he’s done staring with his jaw on the floor) will spread you open and lick you up n down but then he’ll just…lick…that’s it…and he’d stare up at you confused too 

BUT it’s okay just teach him what you like because he’s not the greatest munch YET

ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

but honestly he likes to be in between your thighs in general, they’re warm and comfortable and i can see him wrapped around your leg while cuddling 

anyways i feel like if your guys or watching a movie or just laying around in bed he’ll definitely after building enough courage he’ll sneak his hand below your waistband and softly strokes your clit with the calloused pad of his fingers until (i didn’t specify the position but just imagine your on in front of him with your back in his chest) it’s just him humping up into your ass with his face buried into your neck while he shakily rubs your clit 

also he has terrible morning wood

you will occasionally wake up to him either a. a pillow between his thighs as he stiffles his whines or b. him panting into you neck as he ruts into your leg 

he is #needy 

okay this got really long bai

Enjin

you would have to have already had it because if you got it while already being in a relationship with him theres no way you'd be able to keep it secret

he cant keep his grubby paws off of you for even a second let alone long enough for you to get and also heal a tattoo without his knowledge (could Eisha use her vital inst to speed up tattoo/piercing heal times?)

he fucks you in front of the bathroom mirror after seeing it, your hands braced against the sink while his rested on your pelvis, framing the design on your skin

he watches you through the reflection, eyes flicking between the tattoo, your chest and your face

it almost looks better with his tatted hands around it

"How long til' it starts glowing?"

the tattoo opened up a whole new realm of jokes and nicknames for you

"C'mon my little sex demon, can't you keep up?"

Follo Tunito

the first time Follo saw your tattoo it was a complete accident

you had been stretching your arms over your head and he just so happened to catch a glimpse of the ink peeking out from beneath your shirt

he didn't say anything about it, but the sight was burned into the back of his skull for days

when he finally got to see the whole thing in all of it's glory the poor guy damn near short circuited

and if you told him you got it FOR him!? he thinks he might die

and when you give him the green light he wastes no time in stripping and pulling you into his lap

"Fuck- I can't believe you got that f'me!"

his words come out slurred, his head spacey as his hands grip at your hips to keep you steady while he fucks up into you

he's totally pussy drunk with his half lidded eyes glued to how how pretty the design is while he bounces you on his dick

and when he's close he all but begs to cum inside you

if you let him he'll pull you off of him after and watch how it drips out of you every time your lower abdomen flexes...

he's totally hypnotized and ready to go again shortly after; maybe you really are a succubus

Gris Rubion

his mouth goes dry at the sight of it then his jaw drops if you tell him you got it because you knew he'd like it

the thought of how he would feel about you getting a tattoo but now that you have one? he's obsessed

he has your legs tossed over his shoulders, mesmerized by the bump shifting beneath your inked skin with every thrust

"You're gonna be the death of me, you know that?"

he pushes down on your pelvis with a large hand, enhancing the feeling of him inside of you

he's a lot more vocal than he usually is; you never thought the tattoo would affect him this much

he doesn't even care if you tease him about it; the only thing on his mind is being as deep inside you as possible

"Need you..need to breed you!"

he spends the rest of the night fucking his cum up into you as many times as you allow

you didn't expect your plan to go this well, but you definitely weren't complaining

Tamsy Caines

"Oh? What a bold decision."

that may sound disapproving but that's far from the truth; Tamsy quite enjoys the idea of you marking yourself like that

especially when you tell him it was specifically for him

anything that hints at the idea you're devoted to him in some way is the quickest way to turn him on

so to say he liked the new ink was an understatement

he has your hips raised off the mattress with his cock buried inside you, fingers lightly tracing around the tattoo

he doesn't move; he sat still while gently caressing your skin, causing you to squirm impatiently

"Just admiring the artwork."

he then moves his hand down to roll his thumb over your clit, leaning down and kissing you before finally fucking you how you want

"You're all mine, dove."

even outside of the bedroom he makes his admiration very clear

he hugs you from behind, snaking a hand underneath your clothes just to run his hand over the tattoo