#gachiakuta reader insert

He creeps beside your bed at the dead of night just to stare down at your sleeping form. One night, you opened your eyes and nearly had a heart attack because of him

"...Huh...? What—WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, YOU SHIT?!" "HEHEHE, SURPRISE, BABY—ACK!"

Loves hearing you go on and on about him—it doesn't even have to be anything positive. You're out here complaining that he stinks and he'll just be like, "Love ya too, baby."

"Babe, I say this with all the love in my heart: you need to take a fucking bath. I can smell you from a mile away!" "AW! YA LOVE ME THAT MUCH YA KNOW MY SCENT?!" "YOUR SCENT IS LITERAL TRASH!"

Steals your clothes to wear and surprise you when you get back home. He lives for your startled reaction, before dodging everything you try to throw at him

If you're short than him, he'll make it known by resting his arms on your head or pretending he doesn't see you. If you're taller than him, he loves having a staring contest, purposefully tickling you to win

While he still chases the thrill of a good fight, he unconsciously finds himself dodging way more attacks to not worry you to much

Speaking of worry, he doesn't handle your concern to me that well in the beginning. he sees gentleness as a form of weakness, and he's not weak so why worry in the first place?

"Don't get too hurt when you fight!" "Whaddya mean? Ain't that the reason why I fight?" "At least try not to be at death's door every time you return to me. I worry about you." "C'mon, ya know I ain't gonna die to them—" "That's not the point, and you know that, Jabber."

He goes still and silent when you caress him softly, as if he's made of glass. He finds himself restless and aching to burst open your irritation just to feel some sort of dopamine

Though, he does slowly familiarises your gentleness not as a hindrance, but another form of strength—something that he hadn't thought of (or bothered to acknowledge) before

Still, he'll go through with teasing a reaction out of you whenever that itch grows and grows until you're out there smacking him with a pillow

"Y'know... you real cute when you're mad. Makes me wanna fight even more just to see that face of yours." "I am so over you!"

He once scared you when you just gotten out of the shower and his punishment for that was a two-hour long bath complete with his hair routine (even when he insisted he had just washed his locs)

"Baby!!! Was just messin' 'round! Don't have to make me soak in your tub." "Don't care. You're not getting out of there until I say so."

You once pointed at a disheveled dog and said it looked like him, so he barked loudly while chasing you through the city

"BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK!" "GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME, FREAK!" "AWWW! BUT I THOUGHT YOU LIKED ME AS A DOG?"

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

DID I JUST CALL YOU DAD?

PAIRING(S): Gris Rubion & GN!Teen!Cleaner!Reader, Bro Santa & GN!Teen!Cleaner!Reader, August Stilza & GN!Teen!Cleaner!Reader, Enjin & GN!Teen!Cleaner!Reader, Arkha Corvus & GN!Teen!Cleaner!Reader, Follo Tunito & GN!Teen!Cleaner!Reader

SYNPOSIS: After struggling with small tasks around the Cleaners, you receive help from some of the older members around headquarters. It should have been simple: they help you, you thank them, and everyone moves on with their day.

Expect your mouth moves faster than your brain.

GENRE(S): Platonic Fluff • Found Family • Mild comfort

WARNING(S): Accidental use of “dad,” • Second-Hand Embarrassment • Mild Teasing

A/N: Here's your request anon! This is completely platonic, Readers about 13-14 and this is focused on found-family dynamics with said characters ^^

WORD COUNT: 2.64k words.

Gris Rubion:

With Gris, it would happen in the most natural way possible. You’re trying to help move some heavy equipment after a mission. Probably crates, spare mask parts, or something the Supporters need put away before the next group comes through. You’re determined, insisting you can handle it because you’re a Cleaner and you don’t want to be treated like a little kid.

Gris does not immediately take the task from you. That’s important. He is kind, but he would not belittle your effort. He would watch for a moment, see that you’re struggling, then step in calmly before you strain yourself.

He would probably say something simple like, “Careful. If you lift it like that, you’ll hurt your back.” Then he’d crouch beside you, show you where to grip it, and move the heavier side himself like it weighs nothing.

You’re so relieved and happy that your mouth moves faster than your brain. “Oh! Thanks, Dad!”

You start to walk off, fully ready to continue your day. Then it hits you. You freeze mid-step.

Gris freezes too, but not in a shocking, dramatic way. More like his eyes soften and his hand pauses on the crate.

You slowly turn back around. “I— I mean Gris! I meant Gris! Not dad! I don’t know why I said that. Sorry. That was weird.”

Gris would not tease you hard for it. He’s too considerate for that, especially when you’re clearly embarrassed. He pats your head and tells you, “It’s alright. I’ve been called worse.”

That makes you even more embarrassed because he’s being too nice about it.

He’d return to the task like nothing awkward happened, but the warmth in his tone is definitely there. He would not make a spectacle out of it. He understands that words slip out when someone feels safe, and he'd recognise that without forcing you to explain yourself.

If other Supporters overheard and tried to tease you, Gris would shut it down calmly. Not aggressively. Just a firm, “Leave them alone. They’re helping.”

Afterwards, he would be slightly more attentive with you. Not smothering, not clingy, but if you’re carrying too much, skipping breaks, or acting too eager to prove yourself, he notices.

He would not claim the title out loud, but he would quietly accept the responsibility behind it. Later, if you apologise again, he’d probably tell you, “You don’t have to keep apologising. I know what you meant.”

And that would somehow make you want to combust from embarrassment all over again.

Bro Santa:

Bro would have the most emotionally fitting reaction because he already has a caretaker role. Since he watches over Team Child and cares deeply for Dear, he would understand younger people blurting out family-like words by accident.

You’re probably struggling during a joint training session with Team Child. Maybe Guita got too excited, Dear is being Dear, and you’re trying very hard to keep your positive attitude alive while also fixing some tangled equipment.

Bro notices you getting overwhelmed before you admit it. He decided to walk over and help you out.

“Need a hand?”

You immediately shake your head. “Nope! I can do it! I’m completely fine!”

You are not completely fine. The knot gets worse.

Bro crouches beside you, patient and easygoing. “You’re pulling it tighter. Loosen this part first.”

When the equipment finally comes loose, you beam at him. “Oh my gosh, thank you, dad!”

Bro blinks. You freeze. Dear, somewhere nearby, gives the most judgmental stare imaginable.

“Sorry, that came out wrong! I wasn’t trying to— I mean, not that being called dad is bad, but I—”

Bro would probably raise both hands slightly, trying to calm you before you spiral. “Hey, hey. It’s alright. No harm done.”

He would not mock you. At all. Bro is already emotionally used to younger people saying awkward things, doing awkward things, and then realizing two seconds later. He wouldn’t treat it like some huge scandal.

If anything, he might look a little touched, but he would try not to show too much because he can tell you’re embarrassed.

He would probably scratch the side of his face and say something awkwardly kind like, “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

That destroys you. You cover your face and mumble, “Please don’t.”

Bro would not force the moment to be deeper than it needs to be. He’d let you recover your dignity. Dear might still glare, though.

Bro would notice and sigh. “Dear. Be nice.”

Dear does not look nice.

You laugh nervously. “I think he hates me now.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Bro says, even though Dear’s face says otherwise. “He’s just expressive.”

But from then on, he’d keep a slightly closer eye on you. Not because he thinks you’re weak, but because he knows young Cleaners can push themselves too hard when they want to be useful.

August Stilza:

August is the loudest possible person this could happen with, which means your embarrassment level would be catastrophic.

You’re struggling with part of your Cleaner uniform. Maybe a strap keeps twisting, your full-face mask feels wrong, or something August personally designed is not sitting the way it should.

You try to fix it yourself because you do not want to summon the hurricane known as August Stilza.

Unfortunately, he sees you.

Immediately.

From across the room.

“WRONG!”

You nearly jump out of your skin.

August storms over. He grabs the strap, adjusts the angle, mutters about balance, then starts loudly explaining how equipment is supposed to support the body instead of fighting against it. You stand there, half-grateful and half-overwhelmed.

“You Cleaners never respect the silhouette,” he complains, fixing the last piece with dramatic precision. “There! Now you can move without looking like your outfit is trying to escape you.”

You test it. It feels perfect.

Your eyes sparkle. “Whoa! That’s so much better! Thanks, dad!”

Silence.

For one beautiful second, August does not speak. Then his entire face changes. “DAD?!”

You clap both hands over your mouth. “NO.”

“DAD?!”

“AUGUST, PLEASE.”

“YOU CALLED ME DAD!”

“IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!”

He is absolutely making it worse. Not maliciously, but because August has no volume control and is incredibly dramatic by nature.

“I’m leaving.”

“NO, COME BACK, MY DESIGN OFFSPRING!”

If Eishia is nearby, she probably looks like she wants to disappear on your behalf.

But here’s the thing: once August realizes you are genuinely embarrassed and not just playfully flustered, he would soften. Not completely. He’s still August. But enough.

He’d lower his voice a fraction and wave a gloved hand. “Fine, fine. I won’t shout it across headquarters.”

“You already did.”

“I won’t shout it again.”

That is the best deal you are getting.

He would absolutely remember it, though.

After that, he fusses over your gear even more. If your sleeves are uneven, he notices. If your mask fit is slightly off, he fixes it. If your uniform gets ripped, he acts personally betrayed and repairs it with intense passion.

He might call you “my little apprentice” or “my problem child” once or twice, but if you genuinely hate it, he’ll stop after enough complaining.

Still, he is secretly thrilled.

Enjin:

Enjin would be one of the most casual about it, which somehow makes it worse.

You’re having trouble after training. Maybe you can’t get a movement right, maybe you keep misjudging your timing, or maybe you’re frustrated because everyone else seems to understand something faster than you.

You try to stay cheerful. That’s what you do. You smile, you laugh it off, you say, “I’ll get it next time!”

Enjin sees through that. He doesn’t call you out harshly. He just wanders over with that relaxed, unreadable confidence and says, “You’re thinking too hard.”

You huff. “That is not helpful.”

“Sure it is.”

“No, it’s really not.”

He grins a little.

Then he shows you. Not in a strict lecture way. Enjin teaches like someone who understands people. He gives you one adjustment, lets you try, then gives you another. He doesn’t overload you.

When it finally clicks, your optimism comes rushing back full force. “I did it!”

“See?” Enjin says. “You were thinking too hard.”

You’re too happy to argue.

“Thanks, dad!”

You take about three steps away. Then stop.

"Oho?"

You turn around slowly. “Don’t.”

He tilts his head. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t say anything.”

“Didn’t say a thing.”

“You’re smiling.”

“Am I?”

You are horrified. “I’m sorry. That was an accident. I don’t know why I said that.”

Enjin would tease you, but lightly. He’s mischievous enough that he cannot let it pass untouched.

“Didn’t know I had that kind of authority.”

“You don’t.”

“You sure? It sounded pretty natural.”

“I’m going to walk into a polluted zone.”

“Don’t. Then I’d have to explain that one.”

He laughs, but he doesn’t push too far.

If he notices you’re genuinely upset, he cuts the teasing immediately. He can be playful, rude, and unserious on the surface, but he reads people well.

He’d probably tap your forehead lightly with two fingers or nudge you with the handle of his umbrella.

“Relax. It was one word.”

“A horrible word.”

“Not horrible.”

That would make you pause.

Enjin wouldn’t expand unless you wanted him to. He’d leave the emotional door open without dragging you through it.

Later, he might use it once as a joke when you’re being reckless.

“Listen to your dad.”

“Enjin..."

“What? You started it.”

Arkha Corvus:

Corvus is the scariest one to accidentally call “dad” because he is the boss.

Not because he would yell.

Honestly, the opposite is worse.

You’re in his office struggling to explain what happened during a mission. You were still learning how to give proper reports, and this kind of official responsibility makes you nervous. You keep stumbling over your words.

“And then I thought maybe the route was clear, but it wasn’t, but I didn’t want to abandon the formation, but then the Trash Beast moved, and I—”

Corvus lets you talk. He doesn’t interrupt nor does he rush you.

When you finally run out of breath, he calmly slides the report back toward you and points to one section. “Start here.”

You blink. “Huh?”

“You’re trying to explain everything at once. Start with what changed.”

You take the advice, rewrite the section, and suddenly the report makes way more sense.

Relief hits you hard.

“Oh. That’s much better.” You smile brightly. “Thanks, dad!”

Corvus looks at you.

You look at Corvus.

The room becomes painfully quiet.

“Boss,” you correct quickly. “I meant boss. Not dad. Definitely boss. I am so sorry.”

He does not even look especially surprised.

That somehow makes you want to crawl under the desk.

He looks back at the report and says, “Continue.”

You stare at him. “You’re just going to ignore that?”

“Would that be easier?”

You pause.

“…Yes.”

He smiled kindly. “Then continue.”

You would notice small changes. If you’re overwhelmed, he gives you clearer instructions. If you’re trying too hard to prove yourself, he assigns someone reliable to check on you without making it obvious. If you need correction, he gives it plainly, not cruelly.

Follo Tunito:

Follo’s reaction would be the most awkward because he is younger than the others and has his own insecurities. He is not really a dad figure. He is more like an older brother figure who is trying very hard to be useful.

So the “dad” slip would completely scramble him.

It happens on a busy day at the Cleaners’ headquarters.

You had volunteered to help prepare small recovery baskets for injured Cleaners and Supporters coming back from rough jobs.

Nothing huge. Just bandages, clean cloths, water, small snacks, replacement gloves, notes from other members, little practical things that might make someone’s day easier.

You were excited about it at first because it felt like something kind. It felt like something you could do properly. You wanted to be useful outside of fighting too. You wanted people to look at you and think, “Yeah, they’re reliable.”

Except the longer you worked, the more everything started going wrong. You mixed up two names. One basket was missing half its supplies. Another had the wrong note tucked inside. You accidentally spilled water over part of your list, making the writing bleed until several names became unreadable.

By the time Follo finds you, you’re crouched on the floor surrounded by supplies, trying very hard not to look as stressed as you actually are. Your expression looks very strained, because if you stop smiling, you might cry out of pure frustration. 

Follo notices. He hesitates for a second before approaching, because he doesn’t want to make you feel like he’s watching you fail. Then he crouches nearby and asks carefully, “Do you need help?”

You immediately shake your head. “Nope! I’m good! Everything is completely under control!”

A roll of bandages slips out of one of the baskets and bumps against his shoe. Then you quietly say, “...Mostly under control.”

Follo doesn’t laugh at you. He just picks up the bandages, sets them back down, and glances over the messy list. “You were sorting them by team?”

You nod, embarrassed. “I was trying to. But then I messed up the names, and now I don’t know which basket goes where, and I think I put someone’s note in the wrong one, and if they get the wrong note, that’ll be awkward, and if they get the wrong supplies, that’s worse, and—”

“Slow down,” Follo says gently.

You stop talking.

“Let’s do one at a time.”

That sentence alone makes your shoulders drop a little. Follo sits beside you on the floor instead of standing over you, which makes the whole thing feel less humiliating. He takes the ruined list, studies what parts are still readable, then starts sorting everything into small piles.

“These are medical supplies. These are food items. These are personal notes. We can match the notes first. Names are usually easier to check than supplies.”

You blink at him. “Oh.”

He glances at you. “What?”

“That actually makes sense.”

Follo looks slightly flustered, but also pleased. “It’s not anything special.”

“No, it is,” you insist. “My brain was fully melting.”

He gives a small, awkward smile. “Then we’ll unmelt it.”

The two of you spend the next several minutes fixing everything together. He doesn’t take over completely. That’s important. Follo helps you slow down and think clearly, but he still lets you make decisions “Do you remember who this one was for?”

You answer.

“Good. Then put that one there.”

It’s simple, but it gives you your confidence back piece by piece. Eventually, all the baskets are fixed. The notes are matched correctly. The supplies are sorted. The ruined list has been rewritten. What had looked like a complete disaster now looks neat, thoughtful, and ready to be delivered.

You stare at the finished baskets like Follo just helped you perform a miracle. “Wait,” you say, eyes brightening. “We actually fixed it.”

Follo nods. “You fixed most of it. I just helped organize it.”

You grin at him, warm and genuine. “Seriously, thanks, dad!” The second the words leave your mouth, you’re already reaching for one of the baskets, ready to go deliver it. Then your hand stops mid-air. He is staring at you.

"I meant Follo. Sorry about that..."

Follo is now embarrassed and slightly offended in a very quiet way. “Do I seem that old?”

“No! No! You seem responsible!”

“Responsible like a dad?”

This is where Follo’s insecurity would peek through. He might try to laugh it off, but part of him would genuinely not know how to take it. He wants to be respected. He wants to be useful. But being called “dad” by another teen Cleaner would make him feel awkwardly placed in a role he does not think he has earned.

Still, once he realises you’re more flushed than he is, he would soften. “It’s fine. I get it. You were just saying thanks.”

You nod too quickly. “Exactly. Just thanks. Normal thanks. Not parent-child thanks.”

Follo would probably cough into his hand and look away. “Right.”

But afterwards? It would secretly stick with him. Not in a weird way. More like… you saw him as dependable. You trusted him enough that the word slipped out. For someone like Follo, who struggles with wanting to be valuable, that would hit him harder than he admits.

He might start helping you more often, but very casually. “You packed that wrong again.”

“Okay, Dad.”

The second you say it on purpose, he nearly drops whatever he’s holding. “Don’t start.”

You grin. He looks away, red-faced.

Secretly, he does not hate it as much as he says. But he would absolutely prefer big brother over dad. Follo’s version is less “father figure” and more accidental dependable older sibling who got promoted against his will.

꒰ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ──── ENJIN … while he means well, can be rather up close and personal behind closed doors…

꒰ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ──── content warnings: fem reader, enjin is a lovesick perv, semi established relationship, consensual filming, petnames. exhibitionism, dirty talk, fem mastürbätion, fingering(receiving), pórn with zeroo plot, reader is a bit shy wc: 1.7K

“yeahh that’s right, baby, make love for the camera.”

your knees that are firmly pressed against the mattress soon begin to ache. you idly shift your weight from one side to the other to attempt to relieve the pressure.

the room rapidly accumulates with heat adding to the warmth on your skin. the small fan tucked in the corner of the bedroom does very little to keep your face from blooming up in embarrassment.

the blond man stood tall in front of you with a sleazed toothy grin etched across his features. his larger frame casted a shadow that engulfed yours from above, waiting in anticipation to your next pose for the camera that resided in his tattooed hand.

a man like enjin has never felt the need to play coy, beat around the bush or thinly veil his desires behind the guise of carefully crafted innuendos.

warning(s); mentions of jabber's masochism; fluff.

song; cradles by sub urban

➴ summary: based on this ask, for @gentlenightmare (also, i love your username!)

➴ pairing: enjin x fem!reader

➴ warnings: smoking. smut. virginity and virginity loss. enjin (he's a menace to society, that's why he my type). lack of proof reading (very common, not truly sorry heh). squirting.

➴ wordcount: 3.3k

➴ author note: don't be hard on yourself. you may think you're not enjin's type but that's your brain lying to you, trust me. hope you like it and sorry it took long, i truly just dissociated for a while.

Cleaners’ HQ was quieter than usual, with people preparing for their next missions or choosing to sleep before them.

You couldn’t do either.

You sat on a chair in the dining hall, drawing circles on the table. Watching Enjin sprawled across the couch, consuming the cigarette between his long, tattooed fingers down to the stub. The air felt heavy– like a dangerous storm hiding behind a treeline.

He looked calm, collected, too carefree for someone that would walk into hell tomorrow.

You wished you could be like that.

You wished for too many things, actually.

Enjin tilted his head, catching you staring. Under other circumstances you would have blushed, apologized and busied yourself with imaginary things, but something in his eyes made it impossible to move, to stop staring.

He gave you that cocky, wide smile that made your chest tighten painfully. “Nervous?”

You nodded, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. “You ain’t?”

He shook his head no, letting the stub die on the ashtray. He got up from the couch, walking lazily to your table and sitting down on the chair next to you. You did blush this time, but hid it behind your arms as you crossed them on the table and buried your face on them.

“Thought you might go see your lil’ boyfriend before the mission.”

You laughed, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “What boyfriend?”

“Ain’t got a man?”

“No,” you said softly, your eyes returning to the invisible spot on the table.

Enjin leaned back in the chair, stretching his legs out, boots clacking against the floor. “No man, huh. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

You raised an eyebrow, half offended, half amused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He smirked, smoke still lingering in his voice. “You don’t look like the kind that settles for the idiots ‘round here.”

You snorted, fingers tracing the rim of your empty cup. “Or maybe I just never had the chance.”

Enjin lit another cigarette, humming in thought. For a moment the two of you sat in silence. The world outside felt distant– the missions, the fear, the chaos that awaited for the morning. Maybe that’s what made your words slip out, because the silence was too much, too heavy.

“Never been with anyone, truly.”

He blinked, smirk fading slightly as he exhaled the smoke. “What?”

You shrugged, leaning back in your chair and not meeting his eyes. “Never had the chance. I joined the cleaners young and, well…” your voice faded into a whisper.

Enjin stared at you for a long moment. The air between you shifting. “And?”

“I’m not exactly the type of woman people look twice at. I’m not as smart as the others, not the type of pretty that makes people want to approach me,” you laughed dryly. “Pathetic, right? People always assume given my age that at least I’ve had something. I haven’t.” You let out a tired sigh. “I’m not people’s type. Not your type.”

You met his eyes, forcing a smile that didn’t reach your own.

He shook his head, chuckling in disbelief. “Y’r wrong.”

“About what?”

Enjin leaned forward, elbows on the table, spreading his legs further and forcing his knee to grace yours. He took another drag before answering, voice thick with smoke. “You got no idea how many bastards here can’t even look at you ‘cause they’d trip over their tongues.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I ain’t lying.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words got tangled with the ache in your chest. You couldn’t tell if it was fear, or something crueler– hope.

He leaned closer to you, voice dropping low enough to make your pulse stumble. “You really think I’m sittin’ here wastin’ a cigarette on someone I don’t notice?”

“You notice everyone.”

“Nah,” he said softly. “Not everyone.”

He took the first step. It was unsure, tentative, and gave you enough time to pull away if you wanted to.

You didn’t.

His lips were soft to the touch, a little cold. He smelt of cigarettes and the slice of pie he had eaten during dinner.

You kissed him back clumsily, your hands shaking.

It soon turned heated. Enjin kissed you hungrily, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. You felt his tongue against your lips and opened them, and suddenly he was everywhere.

The cigarette was forgotten atop the table, one of his hands moving to cradle your head while the other found home in your hip. He tasted every inch of you, groaning softly when he felt your legs moving. He took a quick glance down to see you closing them, thighs flushed.

When he looked at you again your eyes were wide, your lips parted– wet and red from him.

The hand on your thigh sneaked up, dangerously close to your clothed womanhood.

“You can say no,” he said. Voice low and rough. “Or we can go back to my room.”

You couldn’t answer him, your voice lost somewhere between the way he sounded and the way he looked– eyes glossy, lips plump from the kiss. So you grabbed his hand, tightly as if to reassure him, or maybe you just wanted to reassure yourself.

Enjin wasted no time. He was up in a second, pulling you to your feet and tugging you behind him as he made his way out the dining hall and into the hallway.

Turn after turn after turn– after what seemed like a fucking lifetime you found yourself at his room door. He pushed it open with enough force that it collided against the wall. Then, he pushed you inside and followed, closing it behind him and making sure to lock it.

He was on you again, hungrier, desperate. You moaned when he grabbed your ass and felt him press against you, no hesitation, no flinch at the give of your stomach. You could feel it even through your layers of clothing.

Enjin was huge. Sure, you didn’t have anything to compare it to, but the fact that it felt as long as your fucking forearm was enough to excite you– and scare you.

Would it even fit?

You let out a little gasp. Enjin smirked, his lips moving from yours to your neck, where he left little kisses and bit away as his will. His hands moved from your ass to the soft curve of your waist, pressing down the flesh to leave marks.

Who knew Enjin was such a territorial man, huh. You weren’t complaining. If you died tomorrow, at least you would’ve been marked as his.

He pushed you back until your knees hit the bed and you fell back on it. Looking up, panting and eyes wide you saw him take off his clothes hurriedly, desperation evident in the trembling of his hands and the quick rising of his chest.

You took a minute to admire him– the tattoos that hid scars he didn’t want the world to see, sharp golden eyes with pupils blown from lust, the glinting of his rings each time they caught light. Enjin looked majestic, as he always did, sure, but something about having him naked in front of you– for you, made the familiar rush of blood feel different.

Every inch of your body felt hot and seemed to call his name.

“Enjin?”

“Yeah, babe?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, avoiding his gaze as you spoke. “Are you sure ‘bout this? I mean, I just don’t want it to…”

“Wanted you since the first time I saw you,” he cut you off. His hand grabbing your face to force you to look at him. “I just didn’t think I had a chance, pretty girl.”

He lay on top of you, one arm holding himself up. His cock rested nestled between his stomach and yours, leaking with pre-cum that felt hot when it dripped down to your skin. He leaned in, mouth inches apart from yours.

Enjin looked one second away from breaking completely. Not that you were much different, to be honest. Flushed flesh, parted lips and your own pupils matching his. You slowly raised a hand to his chest, then moved it up to the back of his neck.

You kissed him. Your other hand came up to cradle his face and he bucked his hips as he effortlessly kissed you back. He moaned at the friction.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you said in between kisses.

Enjin took your hand, guiding it down to his cock. You grabbed it softly as he guided you with his own. He guided your thumb to his slit and applied pressure, moaning at the feeling. Then, as his own hand engulfed yours, he started thrusting. “Just like this, pretty girl.”

You did as you were told, your own hand going up and down his cock in sync with his thrusts. Your thumb helped spread the pre-cum so it wouldn’t be painful. Enjin hid his face on the crook of your neck, his lips right next to your ear as he continued moaning and groaning and pleading, kissing and licking while he trembled.

Seeing him lost in pleasure had an effect. Your own cunt wetter by the second, begging for something– a touch, a kiss, anything. You had to bite down your lips to stop yourself from whining, but after a particularly low thrust in which his knee grazed your clothed cunt, you let out a whimper.

He stopped, removing your hand from its grasp. You were about to complain when he kissed you again, all tongue and saliva this time. He picked some of his seed on his thumb, then he pressed the finger to your lips and watched you open your mouth to taste him.

Salty, hot, not unpleasant.

“My turn,” he said, moving to kneel between your legs.

Skilled hands removed your trousers, then your underwear, until you were bare in front of him. You saw him lick his lips, moving down to face your cunt.

Something felt weird, then. Like it was wrong, like this wasn’t supposed to happen. You had no experience, but had enough knowledge. You knew what he was about to do, but shyness took a hold of you before you could stop it.

“Wait,” you grabbed his hair. “You don’t have to.”

“Please,” he begged. High-pitch and everything. “Please let me eat you out, babe, lemme eat this pretty pussy.”

Was it the begging? Was it the way he eyed your pussy like a starved man eyed food? You didn’t know nor did you want to know. All you knew is that you liked him, that he liked you, and that you wanted to find out what it felt like.

You let go of his hair.

Enjin groaned, lips closing around your clit and sucking. You moaned out loud, grabbing his hair again–this time to push him closer, as you bucked your hips up. Enjin grabbed your thighs again, this time his nails sank into your flesh and the combination of pain and pleasure had you rolling your eyes and throwing your head back.

He ate like he moved through life: confident, skilled. His tongue pressed against your closed entrance and prodded, finally going in to continue tasting you. By the way he moaned against it you’d think you had the sweetest nectar between your legs. To him you did.

When his lips returned to your clit: his tongue flicking it over and over, rolling itself. He then bit it before sucking again and you felt a single digit against your entrance. Your cunt so desperate to be filled that it sucked on air.

He slowly introduced it in, curling it inside as he pumped in and out. He picked up the pace, but not so much that it felt wrong. He took his time, making sure you were ready when he added a second finger. The stretch felt so good you sighed, tightening your hold on his hair.

It seemed Enjin also felt good, good enough to chuckle against your clit and hump the mattress so he could alleviate some of his needs.

With two fingers inside he didn’t just curl them and explored the inside of your cunt, he also made scissoring motions to stretch you further, open you up, get you ready for him.

But his fingers and his mouth, it became too much. That known knot in your lower belly was forming fast–faster than it ever did when you touched yourself. Your legs trembled against his sides and something else, something you had never felt before, arose in your body.

“Enjin,” you whined. Attempted to push him back due to the unknown feeling.

He caressed your flesh, looking up at you as his fingers continued to move. “It’s fine, babe. It’s gonna feel good, I promise. Trust me, yeah?” You nodded.

He let himself enjoy the pleasure of adding a third finger– for good measure, of course. The further stretch burnt, but in a good way.

His fingers had found something inside you that you had never been able to reach on your own, and he was abusing it as much as he could. His tongue worked wonders on your clitoris, lapping at it like a thirsty dog.

You saw white when your orgasm came. Your legs closed against Enjin’s head, your head thrown back against the bed and your eyes rolled to the back of it. You screamed his name, letting go of his hair to grab the sheets under you. He fucked you through it, only stopping when your whines became whimpers and the overstimulation was too much.

Enjin sat back on his knees, looking down to see the mess. You looked at him, too–at his face dripping with your cum. Well, his face, his lips, his neck. He was covered in all your glory.

He stroked his cock and licked his lips clean, then his fingers–slightly covered with blood.

With no innocence left to resist the intrusion of his cock, he lined himself, slapping your cunt with it and using your release as lube.

He looked at you again, whispering. “Y’r sure?”

“I just came on your face.”

He grinned. “Such a good meal.”

You laughed, slapping his arm. “Y’r nasty.”

“I can be a lot worse, but I don’t wanna hurt you babe.”

“I’m sure,” you said, locking your legs around his waist.

Enjin thrusted, letting his pretty reddened tip go past your lower lips, pushing slowly to not break you in half. As much as he wanted to bury himself in you, he knew he still had to be careful and let you adjust to his size. You whimpered and clawed as his arms, his lips let out sweet praises against your ear as he disappeared inside you inch by inch.

So good, so tight, you’re doing so well, my pretty girl, your cunt feels so good. As he pushed in further, his words became more and more filthy and all you could do was moan at them.

He bottomed out with a long groan. “Y’r gripping my cock like you want it to stay inside you forever,” he chuckled. “Want that, babe? I wouldn’t complain.”

You couldn’t answer, just gasp. It felt so big and you felt so full that you wanted to feel even fuller, filled up to the brim with his salty cum inside of you. You whimpered when he didn’t move, because although he was doing it for you, all you wanted was for him to move, to let you feel his cock going in and out your cunt, so you bucked your hips up.

Enjin began thrusting. Long, deep thrusts that resonated throughout the room in wetness. You moaned and moaned, tightening your legs around him and asking, begging for more.

Nothing had ever felt as good, as satisfying, as getting fucked by the man you loved.

You couldn’t get enough.

He built a rhythm, going faster than before. Dragging his cock back out to the tip and then all the way in, over and over. He was so vocal it made your skin tingle.

You could feel him clearly, the veins of his cock touching your walls, the tip of his cock hitting your g-spot all the time. He truly knew what he was doing.

And it built again, that fire, that knot that told you you were close to release again. By the way your cunt clenched around his cock he knew it too and his pace became relentless. Quick and sharp thrusts left you gasping for air as he chased your orgasm.

You came with a silent scream, clawing at his back and lifting its skin, leaving sweet and red markings behind. He hissed, throwing his head back in pleasure and kept going.

“Enjin,” you whimpered, already tired of your second orgasm and the overstimulation that came with him still fucking you through it.

“Just,” he said through gritted teeth. “Just a second, I’m close, so close.”

You felt him shudder, his hips stuttering as he lost pace and just decided to brutally fuck you. It was so raw, so intense. The squelching sound of his cock bullying your cunt, the sound of skin against skin as his balls slapped your ass each time he thrusted in. He hooked your leg up and against his shoulder, the position made you even tighter than you already were.

“Please, please, fill me up, Enjin.”

Your words pushed him to the edge and Enjin came with a deep, throaty groan, burying himself to the tilt inside you. You felt his cum shooting inside, long ropes of thick release coating your insides and making them feel so, so warm and good. You matched his thrusts as more and more cum escaped his cock, enjoying all–his cum and cock inside you, his voice, the feeling of his balls slapping your ass still.

Enjin fell next to you with a thump. He was panting, his chest rising and falling in mirror to yours. Your legs and hands shaking. His cum–and yours–leaving your cunt like water flowing in a riverbed.

“I’m fucking these next,” he said, fondling your breast. You blushed, letting out a gasp that was half-laugh. He kissed you then. “And this pretty mouth of yours, too.”

“Enjin!”

He laughed. “What? Can’t a man appreciate his woman?”

“How is that the same?”

“It is!” He defended himself, propping himself up in an elbow to look at you. His lazy grin was back in place and in full force. “I can’t get enough of you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever.”

Enjin frowned, his smirk disappearing as he looked right into your eyes. “Hey. I mean it. I want to be with you, I’ve wanted to for a long time. I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.”

“Why? I just don’t understand.”

“What do you mean, babe? You are smart, you always listen and critique people when they’re doing something wrong, know what people are feeling even before they realise. You care so much about everybody that not a single motherfucker in this place would hesitate to protect you. And you’re hot, specially when you wear that fuckin’ white t-shirt. I have to use Umbreaker to hide my boner every time you crouch down to pick something up.”

You were silenced at his words. Enjin was so good at lifting others up, but he never lied. It was a little promise he had made to himself a long time ago. He didn’t need to lie for people to give their all, just be themselves and comfortable in their own skin.

After, when he fell asleep against your back, you lay awake in his bed. You thought about every little moment Riyo teased you, every little comment made by Zanka, even Corvus’ knowing eyes when he spotted you and Enjin together.

It made sense, you guessed.

The following morning, you and Enjin walked to the car holding hands. And once the mission was over and done with, you knew he didn’t lie to you that night.

Because the first thing he did was throw himself at you and wrap his arms around your frame, kissing you in front of the entire team. “Let’s go home, my pretty girl.”

“confessions”// zanka x reader oneshot

basically just zanka being whipped/ story of how he confesses to you.

idk if it counts as a one shot or headcanons because i originally started out with the head canon route and now we’re just at the result lolol.

—————————————

★彡 glances. you look up for the 3rd time this meal, feeling eyes on you. by this point you know who’s looking at you. your eyes immediately find zanka’s, only for his to dart away soon after. you shoot him a soft smile, the one reserved just for him, before going back to your conversation with riyo. you’ve felt his eyes on you many times now. you can’t help but feel a bit nervous. “oh god, why is he looking? did i do something wrong?” these thoughts race through your mind many times, but in fact it’s the opposite. at his table, zanka can’t stop thinking about you. while he’s vaguely paying attention to the conversation at his table, he can’t help but be drawn to you. your laugh, the way you eat, hell even the way your sitting down, everything is perfect to him. it’s gotten to the point where he can’t help but search for you in every room he walks in (even though he’ll never admit it if asked).

★彡 zanka’s love for you is quiet. he refused to admit he liked you for the longest time. the only reason he’s finally accepted it now was because enjin and riyo dragged him to an empty room for an intervention. while he tried to deny it, by that point it was useless. how could he when they bring up the way he smiles only at you, instinctively protects you during missions, and constantly stumbles over his words stiffly in front you. even after they confronted him about it, it actually made the situation worse. he somehow managed to get extra robotic, freezing up at the smallest conversations between the two of you. all the cleaners were internally dying watching your awkwardness around each other.

★彡 eventually, enough is enough. enjin decided to take it into his own hands becoming zanka’s (unofficial) wingman. “hey [name], wanna join zanka for training today? he would love that.” “hey [name], you’re on cleaning duty with zanka today! good luck!!” enjin smiles teasingly while tossing you a washrag and quickly leaving the room. after enjin’s teasing words, zanka freezes up, eyebrows furrowing in shock and fury due to enjins meddling. however, when he sees your face looking up at him with that soft smile while saying “i guess it’s just you and me zanka,” all his annoyance immediately disappears out the window. i guess enjin’s meddling isn’t as bad as he thought.

★彡 eventually, zanka is half pressured/ half confident enough to actually confront his feelings. after months of secretly pining, he (and the rest of the cleaners) decided enough is enough. flowers? check. a heartfelt confession? check. a good outfit? check. ready as ever. he walks to your door, shaky, nervous, and definitely stiff but still, ready. enjin, riyo, and rudo are secretly watching from the corner of the hallway. you hear knocks at your door and get up to greet them. “zanka…” you smile softly at the stiff man whose secretly hiding flowers behind his back, “to what do i owe the pleasure?” immediately, his brain short circuits when he sees you, “i— uh.” “you ok zanka?” your eyes widen at his stammering, “wanna come in?” he immediately flushes worse in response, hands almost crushing the flowers behind his back. “no!,” he yells out, “well not no, but not yes, i mean not now— i really, i just i need to tell you…” you pause listening to his stammered words, thinly veiled adoration (and some amusement) in your eyes. he bring out the slightly crushed flowers behind his back. “for you… i wanted to let you know that i like you,” he mumbles looking away, like looking at you might burn him. immediately after his confession, your eyes dance with joy, “i like you too,” you smile brightly, taking his flowers as you lean up to brush a soft kiss against his cheek. he immediately stiffens, looking up at you in shock and wonder, unbelieving of this result. “YESSSSS,” all of a sudden, a whoop from a secret Enjin hiding down the hallway penetrates the tender moment between you, adding to the growing color in zanka’s flushed face.

—————————————

alright! let me know your thoughts and any suggestions. feel free to like and comment, it means the world to me!! 🥹

GACHIAKUTA AND SNAPCHAT!!

characters: Enjin, follo,Rudo, Zanka, riyo

Contents: slightly crack-y, slight follo bullying, support cleaner! reader.

disclaimer!!: my headcanons of how I think they would use it 💔 as someone who hasn’t used snap in years.

Enjin - snapscore: 50-70k

Enjin's lowkey pushing 30, but he’d probably have the app cause he finds it fun to work with. unlimited amounts of filters AND unreplayable snaps ? Oh, he’s spamming everyone he knows.

his bitmoji would definitely either be a facescan or just none at all. Getting right to the good stuff, you know?

He'd be a casual Snapchat user too, friendslist full with so many people- some he doesn’t even know. The moment he gets a “someone added you” notification, trust that he’s accepting immediately.

when you ask about it? he’d just shrug it off and claim it’s just “social media being.. well, social.”

he'd send snaps to everyone of the aftermath of missions and cleaner parties— with a caption that just has good vibes all around I’d imagine! Blurry angles, but effortlessly capturing all of the fun nonetheless.

uses his own face as a sticker. And no one questions it.

Sometimes he’d post stories with nothing but a text that reads “anyone in canvas town? (preferably ladies 👀)” and the other times it would be like 20 stories of some unfunny videos. the type you’d just try to click by 40 times to get through to the next story.

SURPRISINGLY can keep a streak. has like 20 over 120 days. Hes the type of guy to remind some of the cleaners to send a snap to keep the streak in person.

when you’re on the field after a successful mission, he’d probably send a snap of you standing proudly by the other cleaners with a caption that reads “you killed it out there”..right before saying something similar to your face, a wide grin on his face knowing that that you won’t be able to see the photo till later.

[enjin]

🟦 opened

[you]

WTF?? THANKS?? when did you even take that?😭😭

[enjin]

[you] oh ok

Follo — snapscore: somewhere in the 20k!

Yeah, he uses it, barely though.. why wouldn’t he? Main form of communication with friends from his hometown, I’d assume. Sometimes he forgets he even has the app, and when he remembers he bides his time on Snapchat spotlight for hours when Instagram reels isn’t hitting.

his bitmoji would be pretty basic, just a face scan would suffice! A plain white background to match his little character in the default pose.

Sees it as a chance to see what the others have going on, lingering on some stories a little longer than he should. He’s a lurker, basically.

His friendslist would mostly consist of people he knows. A few dead group chats from years and years ago, where he happened to almost always be the one left on opened. Has the supporters gc on mute and probably only checks in every few days or so, with a reply like“👍🏻”.

doesn't receive a lot of friend requests and is mostly likely the one sending em out. Doesn’t get added back often.

more of an emoticon user..

Definitely comments under the pimple popping bait videos.

bro its been 40 videos. POP THE DAMN THING ALREADY.

When he does post stories, it would probably be some pics of him after working out, right next to a motivation quote… an incredibly rare sighting for you and everyone else. Or maybe it would be unironic interaction bait like “god im so lonely 👀👀” or “what does ly mean”..basically the type of posts nobody gaf about. Follo would hold his breath till he gets a reaction, and would definitely give up 20 seconds into the breath holding.

[you: replied to follos story]

Yooo delete this😭😭😭. omg.

[follo]

ight bro.

on the occasions he sends snaps, it would probably be bed selfies, like the low effort ones just showing his eyes and ruffled hair. Most likely captioned with a “u up? ^^” , knowing damn well nobodies asleep at 7pm.

definitely doesn’t do streaks because he can’t remember it for the life of him.

Riyo — snapscore: 800k

yes she does. She most likely was the one who convinced the other cleaners to get the app too.

Her friendslist would be stacked with randoms from canvas town. would be getting friend request notifications like crazy and just wouldn’t bat an eye at it. Like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Honestly, her phone would be on dnd most of the time due to the complaints from the cleaners around her.

accurate and detailed bitmoji that you can just tell she took 30mins on.

Halfswiper. Does this so often and tries to play it off as “time saving.” .it would definitely be impossible to talk to her on snap, so you just switch the app entirely most of the time. Riyo probably talks through snaps/ voice messages because she “cba”..

“im sorry, i really cant be asked to type right now but…!”

uses her friends faces as stickers.

most of her stories would probably consist of her trying out cute new hairstyles, and the next would be a COMPLETE 180. Like a video in 4k ultra hd of a cleaner caught digging in their ass (most likely rudo tbh.)

with a zoom in and everything. Watching her stories feel like whiplash, but it’s genuinely interesting.

[you: replied to riyos story]

BRO WHO IS THIS IMCRUING

[riyo]

[translation: rudo. it’s rudo. (inaudiable laughter)]

[you]

oh ok. that makes sense.

would be the type to post the “nrs” stories unironically

when she sends snaps it’s probably a full face with a dog filter, for streaks instead of drawing an “s” she draws an “R” just to be extra.

Rudo — snapscore: 700-1.3k

yes he uses it. Quite frequently, too.

decently low snapscore because he probably only has like 4 friends added on it.

bitmoji just a whole bunch of nonsense. when you received his fq you almost declined and considered blocking before he told you it was him.

schizo-poster, i genuinely believe he would be posting some serious BUULLLCRAP on his stories. like a photo of his hq dorm wall. no caption, no nothing. and the next would be a photo of his face, blank , bug eyed and staring into your soul. Skin flaky, lips cracked, eyes bloodshot and everything.

Has full on conversations on his story. Like a back and forth of screenshots and captions between another cleaner.

genuinely doesn’t reply normally. he ALWAYS replies through his story, and when you asked him about it in person, he’d just look at you weirdly as if you were the one using the app incorrectly.

[you]

will u be on the mission today

[you: replied to rudo’s story]

ok do u know what time we’ll be getting back

[you: replied to rudo’s story]

thanks.

Zanka — snapscore: 120-300

Yeah, he uses it. But, about just as much as you’d think a guy who’s constantly training 24/7 uses snap; hardly. every time he logs onto Snapchat it feels like a whole new app— so he doesn’t really bother with it. He’s more of an ig guy anyways.

no bitmoji.

only his closest friends added. has a few requests pending and keeps it there to feel important.

would definitely try to be a halfswiper(cause he saw Riyo doing it a few times) and fail every.single.time.

when he does eventually post a story, it’s on accident— a low angled photo with a less than pleasing view of his chin(s) . You had to teach him how to delete a story after that. And when he gets used to it? His whole thread would be a lovely assistaff fan account. Lovely assistaff perched on a bench. Lovely assistaff getting her #vitamind, basking in the warmth of the sun. Lovely assistaff this, lovely assistaff that— god, you just skip his stories at this point, because there is ZERO need for 30 pictures of lovely assistaff in the same damn spot with different filters. At this point, you genuinely just believe he’s on snap to just post photos of her.😭

And the snaps? Lovely assistaff. And If not that, then it would be a photo of his ceiling. doesn’t do streaks, views it as a waste of time.

[you: replied to zanka’s story]

can u stop posting this stick💔

[zanka]

? ?? you tryna say something, asshole?

you later got blocked.

“How are you right there but still so far out of my reach?”

Category: soft angst, no romantic ending

Word count: no clue!

Requested by: myself

Trigger warnings: none

Premise: Zanka Nijiku adores you, and to him? You're like the sphere. Just a beautiful figment of his imagination that can only be reached in his dreams. And so he pushes you away in reality.

No matter how hard he tried, he wasn't good enough.

That's the simple truth of it. Atleast in his eyes. When he joined the Cleaners — when he saw you, he loved you from the start. A cruel sense of yearning that tormented him from the inside out.

You were kind.

You were too fucking kind to trash like him.