#sub follo

✦˖ sub enjin

enjin, despite his calm personality and that untouchable leader facade, is the kind who turns quiet, obedient, devoted in bed. he doesn’t beg with words, but his body does it for him.

he loves being controlled by your voice. a single “look at me” and he’s obeying, eyes locked on yours even while you’re on top of him and he’s biting his tongue to keep from moaning too soon.

it turns him on when you grab him by the back of his neck or his wrists, pinning him against the wall or down on the bed, feeling like all that trained strength is useless against you.

marking him is another weakness. hickeys on his neck, bites on his chest, nails down his back. enjin pretends to be annoyed afterwards, but you know every mark he hides under his clothes only makes him hotter.

face-to-face sex ruins him. watching you ride him, hearing you tell him how good he’s being, calling him a “good boy” when he obeys without thinking… it makes him come fast, even with the bare minimum contact.

in private, he can be completely yours, but what destroys him the most is the risk. your hand on his thigh under the table, your breath in his ear in an empty hallway, and he’s already imagining what you’d do if no one else was around.

✦˖ sub follo tunito

follo is pure enthusiasm and devotion. you can tell he wants to please you even outside the bedroom, so when it comes to sex, submission comes naturally to him.

he melts if you call him a “pretty boy” while touching him. literally blushes, his voice drops to a whisper, and he leans in closer, like he can’t get enough of you.

he’s a constant touch seeker — tugging at your sleeve, leaning against your leg, following you around the room. if you order him to kneel and stay still, he’ll obey… but his legs will tremble the whole time.

when he’s between your thighs, he moans and looks up at you with glassy eyes, swallowing every order you give. tell him “don’t come” and he’ll try so hard to hold it… until he can’t anymore and starts begging.

overstimulation is your weapon with him. after he comes, just a few more strokes and he’s whining, tears pricking his eyes, thanking you for not stopping.

sex with clothes still on drives him insane — your hand under his shirt, your hips grinding into his while his pants are still on. the friction alone can have him coming in minutes, head buried against you.

✦˖ sub gris rubion

gris is a proud sub — not because he doesn’t want to give in, but because he needs to be certain you’re someone he can trust completely. once you earn that, he’ll give himself to you without holding back.

he loves controlled restraint. pinning his wrists above his head, holding his jaw so he has to look at you, pressing him against a wall — it makes his breath hitch every time.

he can keep his composure for a while, staying silent while you touch him, but eventually his body betrays him — hips moving on their own, eyes half-lidded, jaw slack.

edging destroys him in the best way. you can keep him at the brink over and over, and when you finally let him come, he clings to you like he’s afraid you’ll let go too soon.

whispering calmly in his ear while you fuck him is a sure way to break him. slow, deep thrusts and a low “you’re mine” will have him trembling, even before he’s close.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t mind,” he admitted.

Corvus:

He was well aware of the victory your team has achieved. He personally came at the beginning of the party to congratulate you and your team– unfortunately he's busy with papers of work and couldn't stay for the party, so he left for his office– of course not before sneaking you a kiss when no one was looking.

Hours pass and he could still hear the loud music blaring from below. His chair screeches as he stood– walking towards the door and swinging it open. There you are, eyes heavy and a hand raised– ready to knock. He pulls you in his office and closes the door. He then holds you on his palms– lovingly staring with a small smile on his face.

"Mmm.. missed you so much, Arkha." You wrapped your arms around his waist, closing the gap between. You eagerly peppered kisses all over his face, he closed his eyes– completely relax with your soft kisses.

"I missed you too."

He pressed his lips against yours, the bitter taste of alcohol still present in your mouth. You push back– your tongue licking his lips, as if pleading to let you in. He opened his mouth, moaning as you sucked on his tongue. His hand snaked behind your head and he slightly pulls on your scalp, a sudden jolt of arousal travels down.

"Hahh– I'd be more than happy to continue this in a much more appropriate place."

"Your room or mine?"

"...yours."

Follo:

He just fetched you from your celebratory victory party after calling him.

"Follo, I frew up." you mumbled on the choker.

He has changed your soiled uniform and is now cleaning your body with a wet towel.

"Why the hell would you drink so much when you know you're a sucha lightweight?"

"Mm not a lightweight.."

He just sighs– no point arguing with a drunk. As he continues to clean you up, your hand held one of his– intertwining your fingers together. Follow looks at you to see that you were already staring at him.

"Have I ever told you how reliable you are?"

"You have, countless of times already." He continues to clean you with the wet towel.

"Then have I told you how amazing you are? How great you are at reassuring other people's emotion?"

"You have– and it's not that much, I'm just a Supporter– it's the least I can do."

You place a kiss on his knuckles,

"You're never just a Supporter, Follo. I've seen the work you've done out there. No ordinary person can be as dedicated and hardworking as you." You've seemed to have sobered up.

"I-.. I really don't know– to be precise, I'm not sure anymore. My dream of becoming a Giver— it feels so far fetched." He placed the wet towel in a basin beside him, handing you your spare clothes.

"If you're thinking of giving up, I suggest you don't. You and that hammer of yours have been through a lot. You know how a Giver becomes a Giver– treasure and experience. I'd say you're pretty close to achieving that."

Follo felt sincerity in your words, but something inside of him still dismisses it.

"Should I really listen to words from a drunkard?" He teases. You pull him on top of you and started kissing his neck.

"Stop it! It tickles!" You refuse, the kisses turned into sucking purple marks all over his neck. Something he'll have to deal with tomorrow. A soft moan escapes from his mouth when you stop kissing his neck.

You stared at each other's eyes– tips of your noses touch and Follo leans down for your lips. His kisses were as soft as his lips, lacking experience– unsure of what to do next. You gently flip your position, with you on top of him now. Your hands caress his face– your thumb pressing on his lower lip. You slot your knee right between his legs.

"I missed you so much, Follo."

"I missed you too– umph!"

You dive down for a kiss. It was messy, the sound of labored breathing could be heard in the room when Follo began grinding on your knee. You're sure to see a wet spot on his trousers if you were to look down.

"Please, please, please I'm– hah–"

"What are you pleading for? Use your words, pretty boy~"

His face is flushed– glowing with sweat dripping down his forehead. He struggles to blurt the words out.

"I'm cumming– please, please, let me... please." His voice reduced to a whisper. You'll let him go for that– just this once.

"Since you've been so good holding back, I'll let you. Cum for me, Follo."

As soon as those words left your mouth, Follo immediately came. His mouth opened wide as his body stiffens. You slowly move you knee, letting him ride off his high.

Once he's all relaxed, you began littering kisses all over his face.

"You did so good, Follo. I'm so proud of you."

"Thank- hah– thank you so much."

You tried standing up to at least take a wet towel to clean him up but a dull pain immediately hit your head.

"Don't get up, I'll clean myself." Follo leaves the bed to get a fresh set of clean clothes and heads to the shower. Minutes later he came back.

He lay his head on your waiting arms and you both drift to dreamland.

Jabber:

Well you can't say it was a successful mission– but if you ask Zodyl, he'll say it was progress. Jabber basically pestered him to throw a party to which he begrudgingly caved in. Cthoni bought a hell lot of drinks since they couldn't go to any bar at the moment (they're pretty wanted out there). Momoa starts it with a beat and that's enough to get the party going.

At some point, Jabber began challenging Cthoni in a drinking contest.

"What do you wager, Jabber?"

"I don't know, anything you want I guess. And I mean anything." He grins creepily.

"What I want is a week of peace. You're not allowed to try any toxins and bother me when you're on the verge of death."

These happenings where Jabber stabs himself with an unknown toxin with unknown side effects has been a daily recurring event in the base– which oftentimes would have Cthoni hauling his ass back alive by teleporting him to the nearest healer or doctor available.

"Boo! What a boner killer!"

"It's not like I'll willingly transport you to that Cleaner anyway."

"Get his name right, it's Zanka~"

His tone immediately made a vein pop in your head. It's not like you two are in a romantic relationship.  You're not jealous, psh– definitely not. Though– you did see them fight inside that winged trashbeast, you can understand why Jabber has an interest with that Cleaner. He was strong-willed, definitely not an ordinary joe and actually a pretty one.

And so, you began chugging one bottle after another.

Getting into this relationship with him, you knew he's not the kind to be chained down– emotionally of course, you know the man's a freak, he'd actually be down if you introduced chains in your sex life. But still– it sucks having these feelings towards him.

You look back at their drinking competition– Cthoni has chugged down six bottles while Jabber is already struggling at his fourth. Unexpectedly, definitely– you thought the man who stabs himself with whatever poison he finds would at least have a tolerance to alcohol, but you thought wrong.

"Give it up, Jabber. You could barely lift a bottle." Cthoni slurs a little, drunk but not as drunk as Jabber.

"No wayy man! I can handle a few more!"

No he couldn't. He just passed out at the fifth bottle. You stared at him across the table, wondering how hopelessly romantic you are for that man.

Feeling your gaze like daggers, Jabber shot his head up (not a good idea) to look back at you. He stood up and wobbled towards you.

"What's got ya glaring at me like that, partner? If I didn't know any better– I'd think you're angry at me~" his breath stinks of alcohol, yours would probably be too. He puts a leg over yours and an arm over your shoulders, pulling you close to whisper–

"And that got me feeling hot." Jabber licks your earlobe– biting and pulling away. You kept your eyes glued on the melting ice in your glass.

"What would I be mad at you for?"

"A lot, but you didn't mind those minor offenses before. So, what's got ya hiding inside that head of yours?" His fingers were tracing your back, making random shapes.

You're drunk yourself, whatever present reason that's still left in your head is telling you to shut your mouth or else you'll be ranting about how incredibly pissed you are at his sudden interest with that Cleaner, Zanka.

He has this shit eating grin on his face, now poking your back. "Come onn~ tell metellemetellmetel—" you smashed your lips against him— and it hurt. Your lips hit his open mouth and just as he closes it he accidentally bites yours. Jabber's eyes widened for a split second– it narrowed as he began grinning ear to ear.

He licks the blood from your busted lip and kisses the open wound– its metallic taste rips a groan out of his mouth.

You let him, you don't pull away from his grasp and apparent grinding you feel on your arm.

Cthoni, only a couple of feet away from you senses the sudden change in the atmosphere. She looks at you and Jabber– his arm wrapped around your shoulder, him licking your bloodied lips and the arm placed in between you as some sort of barrier is being used as a grinding pole. She sighs heavily, wobbling as she stood up and placed her manhole near you. Jabber barely acknowledges her, his whole attention is placed on you.

"You're one weird couple." And she pushed the two of you in, transporting you in your room– landing on your bed.

Jabber topples on you, he leans up, resting on his elbows– caging you...

It was silent, only your breathing and shuffling could be heard. Jabber's hot pink eyes stares at you, and you stare back.

"You're so weird, ya know that?"

"Well, you're one to talk."

"You don't treat me so mean— and I hate that. You know how to push my buttons, but you don't. You always keep me hanging."

You grab a hold of his face pulling him down to your level and you kiss his forehead– you felt him tense up, then his nose, then his chin. He melts under your touch. Jabber is all putty on top of you. Your fingers now tracing lines and letters on his back.

"I have to keep you on your toes, Jabber... or else–"

"Or else what?" He mumbles on your neck.

"You'll get bored of me."

He doesn't retort. You didn't need him to, but you hoped he did. You could only hear the loud beating of your heart through your ears as Jabber falls asleep.

Part 3

Just as he was flinging off the last piece of clothing he had, he spotted himself in the mirror a few paces away, a deep flush erupting on his face when he realized how bare he was in comparison to you… except the trapper hat you asked him to keep on. Did you even feel a little guilty? The poor virgin knew what he was getting into the moment he stepped into the bedroom; with how easily embarrassed he got, Follo knew you did this on purpose.

“You look so cute!”

The doe eyed cleaner scoffed, here they go again. It was never worth the effort trying to convince you that he isn’t cute, but cool, because of how earnestly you agreed that he was both. He’d puff his chest, but forget it all once he felt your warm hand cusp his cheek, nuzzling against your gentle touch as your thumb grazed his fresh scar. You’d never tell him, but the real reason you told him to keep his hat on was because of this exact scene. Follo looked just like a baby deer.

Anyone could tell he was a virgin just from the way he presented himself, not just from the time he rambled on and on about his pathetic attempts to impress his crushes just within the past few years. The evidence was undeniable–unsteady hands as he slowly reached down for his stiff cock, tip already sensitive from the cold air that breezed past. Luckily, you were behind him now, his bare back against your clothed chest, leaning against the bed frame with your hands rubbing his arms to keep him warm. It was comforting, to say the least, but it didn’t make the position any less humiliating.

“I hope this isn’t too much, Follo,” you said, noticing his hesitation. 

“N-no, it’s okay.” Was it okay? Honestly, he couldn’t tell. Sat upon the bed, one of your hands rubbing his arm while the other rests on his thigh, legs spread wide giving you a full view of his abdomen if you peeked over. Follo’s usual white gloves were discarded, allowing you to admit his slender fingers, which were calloused from the constant training he put himself through–and he thought no one would ever notice.

“Follo, baby, you don’t have–,”

“Stop! That’s embarrassing to hear… I-I’ll do it, okay? I’ll do it for you, [N-name]...” His voice wavered at the end, but he meant every word. If someone asked him how he got into this position, it would remain a mystery to both of them. The heat that pooled in his lower abdomen couldn’t be ignored, he knew that his body wanted whatever this was as much as his heart wanted to be yours. 

Shit, he could only ever be yours. The second he noticed you in any scenario his heart would rush into overdrive, mind stuck in a daze until you left his field of vision. And he blamed it on you–when you entered a room, your eyes never strayed far from his. Under your gaze, he was nothing but a deer stuck in headlights.

You lifted the hand that was holding his thigh and laced your fingers with his free hand, and he gripped tightly, breath hitching when his hand finally grazed his hot tip.

“..spit on it…” Follo mumbled.

“Louder, baby.”

“Spit–it’s not–I need–,” Follo desperately tried to find the words. Such a cherry boy he was, avoiding any sort of vulgar vocab because he wasn’t used to dropping the polite act. 

You smiled. “You don’t have to be shy around me, Follo.” 

Although by now the rush of blood passing his ears muddled his hearing, your faint promise crumbled the weak walls he still had up. That’s when it clicked. You were so close, the only barrier between the two of you were the clothes you’d probably take off if he just asked, because you wanted to be close to him too. All of those second glances, the small smiles you’d throw at him across the mess hall, that time you defended him against the harsh words of some acquaintance he knew before he could speak, or how patient you were with him when his emotions got the best of him—what reason did he have to be shy when you’ve already seen him at his worst?

Follo looked down, his movements suddenly displaying a bit more confidence as he reached for his aching member against his toned stomach. Steady fingers wrapped around the base, pushing it further before demanding what he asked once before.

“Spit on it… So it’s smoother.”

What he wasn’t expecting was to feel your soft lips against the nape of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. The change was small, but you were already so proud of him, determined to make this night one he wouldn’t forget.

You wanted him to show you how he pleasures himself, but you decided another teaching method would be a better course. Without shame, you spit into your palm before cupping the top of his mushroom head. Follo hissed, his fist around his base dropping involuntarily. You squeezed before dragging your fist down to smear the gooey liquid around.

“Mmmfphh… [Nameeee]...” 

His dick felt cold for no more than a few seconds, realizing your hand had disappeared only to be replaced by his. 

“I still want you to show me how you like to cum, baby.”

Internally, he groaned. A part of him was relieved when you took over–it’s less embarrassing that way. Having someone watch him masturbate, on the other hand…

The newly made cleaner gathered his composure, taking the lead once more. Follo wanted to cringe at the sight of him pleasuring himself, but more than that, he wanted to make you proud.

“That’s my boy.” 

Such simple praises, and yet the coil in his abdomen tightened without resistance. He stroked himself to the rhythm of your breathing, his own breathing increasingly mimicking that of an excited puppy. 

“Fuckkk… nngh~!”

Whimpers fell from his lips at an unrivaled pace, the pre oozing from slit making the glide easier, forcing his strokes to become more and more uncontrollable by the second. You watched steadily, taking note of what he did subconsciously while jerking himself off, only to find out that Follo didn’t do anything special. Once he started it was clear he was only thinking about one thing, and that was how quickly he could get to his release.

His legs were beginning to shake, threatening to close in on himself. You held his thighs open, not wanting to miss a second of the scene in front of you. This wasn’t the first time you’d seen him naked, but Follo had never been this sensitive before, hurdling toward his orgasm with speed he’d never seen before. But something was off—even though he could tell he was near, it wasn’t enough.  If something didn’t change, he’d continue chasing his orgasm and never reach the end. He let his head fall back, trapper hat slipping off to reveal his messy bed hair, tightening the grip his hand intertwined with yours had.

“Ahhhnn~[N-name]...” he whined. “I–I can’t—,”

Your eyes locked with his as Follo’s head rested on your shoulder, but he could barely think straight. Feeling your hand in his kept him in reality, just barely. More, he still needed more.

You.

He wanted—no, needed you to do it for him.

“[Name], I need your help…”

The words barely finished leaving his tongue before his eyes glossed over, and you knew he was slipping into a distant land. Nevertheless, his hold on your hand never faltered. Remaining close was a necessity for him. The pace he stroked himself with slowed, body nearly limping against you as he began muttering incoherent pleas.

“Didn’t know you’d be so needy…”

Lifting his hand off his dick, you pressed a finger into his tip, ripping a moan out of him. Your hand slid down his member at an excruciatingly slow pace, and yet, he could feel his orgasm building in his core more intensely than before.

Follo knew then that his hands would never be enough to pleasure himself again, unable to stop his hips from bucking into your fist to chase that intense feeling once more. 

“Againnnn–please, please…” 

You listened, adjusting your hand to slather the pre dribbling from his slit, even quickening your pace. But even so, begging words still fell from his lips—he no longer knew what was more or less. There wasn’t even a single thought in that mushy brain of his, the words he spewed out was simply a consequence of his mind going on autopilot the moment your hands were on him again, so he was completely unaware of the impending orgasm that would make him see stars.

“Cu–!”

With a useless attempt to warn you–or maybe himself–of his orgasm, white translucent liquid erupted from his cock, taut balls pulsating with every wave of pleasure that rolled over him. Follo moaned shamelessly right into your ears, showing you just how good you made him feel. Globs of cum stained the sheets, but it wasn’t until the last dribble of white was swiped away did you slow your pumps, watching the cleaner grow sleepy on your shoulder.

“You okay, baby?”

“Mhmm,” he tried to say, absolutely exhausted. 

Take care of him after <3

follo wasn’t supposed to cry.

not from this. not from you.

but he was already halfway there by the time you got his pants down, and now he’s sitting between your legs with his head in your lap, flushed and breathing hard, hands shaking slightly at his sides while you stroke his hair back like you’re not the one undoing him.

you’re warm. that’s the first thing he notices.

not hot. not rough. just… warm. in the way your thighs cradle his head. the way your voice curls around him like a blanket he didn’t realize he wanted to be wrapped in.

your fingers trace along his scalp. slow. steady.

“you’re doing good, baby,” you murmur.

he exhales through his nose and closes his eyes, just for a second. lets himself sink into the way your thumb brushes under his cheekbone.

but then he shifts.

your hand drops to his chest, right above his racing heart, and he knows you feel it.

“can i—” he swallows, voice already cracking, “can i just stay like this for a minute?”

you hum. your nails trace the slope of his neck.

“you can stay here as long as you want,” you say.

and fuck, that shouldn't hit as hard as it does.

he clenches his jaw. breathes in slow. he doesn’t want to cry, not really, not like this. he wants to be useful. he wants to make you feel good. he wants to be something more than just tired and needy and so, so full of things he doesn’t know how to name.

but your hand drops lower.

palms his cock, already hard, already leaking against his stomach, and strokes once, slow. like you’re testing how much he can take.

his hips twitch. he grips your thighs.

your voice stays calm.

“you’re so sensitive tonight, baby. you need mommy that bad?”

he doesn’t mean to say it.

not out loud. not like this.

but it tumbles out of him in one soft, broken sound.

“mommy…”

you still your hand for a second.

his eyes fly open.

“i didn’t—” he chokes, pulling back like he just burned himself, “i didn’t mean—fuck—i wasn’t trying to—”

“hey.” your hand catches his jaw before he can look away. “look at me.”

he hesitates. swallows. then meets your eyes.

you smile soft, proud, a little cruel.

“say it again.”

he stares at you like he’s about to die. “what?”

“you heard me.” your thumb brushes his lower lip. “say it again, baby.”

his hands are shaking now. not from fear. not from shame.

from relief.

“…mommy.”

you hum in approval. stroke his cock again, and this time he groans, quiet and desperate, head tilting forward until his forehead rests against your belly.

“there you go,” you whisper, voice sweet and heavy with control. “good boy.”

he whines, actually whines and your hand keeps moving, slow and slick, fingers curled perfectly around the base while your other hand rests lightly on the back of his head, holding him there.

“you’ve been holding it in, haven’t you?” you murmur. “trying to be good. trying to be tough.”

his teeth sink into his bottom lip. his hips jerk. he nods.

“but you don’t have to do that here,” you say. “not with me. not with mommy.”

he shudders. one of his hands slides up to grab at your waist, desperate for something to hold onto.

you let him.

you keep stroking him until his moans go high and tight and panicked, until he’s mumbling your name into your skin, wet and breathless and broken open.

“mommy, please,” he whispers. “please don’t stop. please—i can’t—i’m gonna—”

“you gonna come just from mommy’s hand?”

he nods. frantically. shamefully.

and you let him.

you whisper in his ear, “be a good boy for me,” and he spills over your fingers, cock pulsing, thighs shaking, mouth open in a soundless cry as you keep your grip firm through the end of it.

when he’s done, he collapses.

fully. completely.

his face stays buried in your lap. your hand moves to his back, stroking gently, like nothing just happened. like you didn’t just ruin him with praise and permission.

he doesn’t say anything for a while. doesn’t need to.

you kiss the top of his head. he exhales, soft, deep. calmer now.

you lean down, lips near his ear.

“you’re safe here, baby,” you whisper. “i’ve got you.”