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You knew when work was stressing him, he would simply pinch the bridge of his nose, tuck his chin near his chest, adjust his glasses, and straighten the tie that didn’t need fixing. And whenever the world was weighing on him, he would bury his pain into a ferocious bite in a delicious pastry at his favorite bakery.
But nope, you never saw a tear. He simply never cries, you believed.
That is until the heavy doors of the venue swung open.
As you stepped into the view, you could hear the entire room catch their breath in awe. There were friends, family, coworkers, and you could even hear the proud hums from them, as well as the gasping. But once your eyes averted from the flowers in your hands to meet Nanami’s eyes, you realized no one had seemed to lose it completely like Nanami.
Instead of merely adjusting his glasses, his trembling hands removed them, pressing his hands to his beet-reddened face. The tears that you swore were dry pellets in his system that didn’t budge, were wet streams down his cheeks and unstoppable.
Oh boy, and as you drew closer, he covered his mouth, desperately muffling the sob that wanted to praise you; that wanted to worship how beautifully the dress accentuated every curve in your body; that wanted to tell you how your curls complimented your face, and just how lucky he was.
But just like the very best best man should, Yu had completed the words Nanami couldn’t.
“I told you she was going to break you man,” he exclaimed, handing Nanami the handkerchief from his suit pocket into his shaky hands. “Look at her! You’re the luckiest guy alive.” He cheered, rubbing his back and gazing at you.
When your feet brought you to the altar, stopping right in front of him, your heart thumped at how completely undone he looked. His eyes, still welled with tears, were almost puffy. His hair that were slicked sharply when you first entered, had a couple strands that fell to his forehead.
He pulled his glasses to his face, lenses fogging up immediately from the heat. He swallowed hard and took your hands in his. Gentle, as always. The trembling had faded under your touch.
“Kento,” you whispered, smile at your lips.
He looked into your eyes at the sweet call of his name from your voice, breath shaky once he stared into yours.
“I am indeed, the luckiest man in the world.”
a/n: thought of this when thinking about the idea of my bf not crying at the sight of me at our wedding like boy i will turn around and keep walking out until you do.
☀︎ KENTO NANAMI just needs to fuck you after work :(
he's a busy man, he needs relief!
so when he comes home, eyes low, sleeves rolled up just below his elbows (just enough to show off his muscles and veins that you go so crazy over), he looks for you immediately.
and when he finds you, oh, it is a mess.
"k-kento, fuck, oh my god, kento," you whine out, back arching with every stomach tightening bounce.
your legs are spread, and wide, too, because nanami likes to see your pussy when he's stretching it out.
his hips buck with every bounce, connecting to yours with a nasty, wet plop, over and over and over again. neither of you complain. neither of you are in the right mindset to think about the wrongs in life.
his grip on your waist tightens, and he grunts with every lazy thrust. "fuck, baby," he whispers. "so tight... feels so good..." his eyes glide up your body to your face.
your pretty ass face.
nanami can't help the feeling that shoots through his dick when he looks at your face. brows furrowed, bottom lip being bit at, god, he feels like he's on a second level of hard, if there could be one.
the way you grip him, sucking him in dispite being the one bouncing on it, oh, he fucking loves it.
"so beautiful," he whispers. he's not even worried about the full day shift he had to do today. he's focused on you. "you're so... fuckkk-" his involuntarily hips buck. "-ing beautiful, baby."
your words are almost too far from understandable when you push them out. "you– ah," you throb around his base so nicely, and he fucks you through it like it's nothing. "th-thank...you, oh, baby,"
his eyes are low, stuck on you.
yours are closed.
he likes that, though.
and when your back arches, his throws his head back into the pillow, some strands of his hair stuck to his damp forehead. "oh, fuck." he curses under his breath, grip tightening against your hips. "fuck– i love you."
but you're not sure if he's talking to you, or the wet pussy that he was suddenly able to fuck even deeper.
or both.
plop, plop, plop!
those sounds are like music to his ears.
he tries to stop one of his hands from abandoning your hip and gripping onto the sheets. he fails, hips jerking in lazy twitches.
you're driving him crazy. and when you open your eyes, just the little that you're able to, you can see it in his eyes.
you can't help but smile, either.
knowing you can drain him of his stress (and cum) makes you smile.
𓊆ྀི Angst to smut, Porn with a plot, Oral (F. Receiving), Apology sex, Age Gap , Overstim, Praise kink, Very slight somnophilia, use of pet names 𓊇ྀི
The car ride was long and the silence was deafening. As much as you didn't want his hand resting on your thigh right now he persisted.
You were slightly hurt because of your previous light argument earlier but it was nothing compared to the storm that was soon to come. The tension was incredibly thick to the point where the air felt suffocating.
"Are you going to tell me what's wrong or are you going to pout with that mean look on your face" you broke the silence a bit anxiously, feeling his hand squeezing your thigh tighter. "It's hard not to be upset when all I heard was your name ringing through every man's mouth tonight" Nanami groaned gripping the steering wheel tighter.
You bit your lip questioning if he was really about to start with you. "Are you serious right now, why the hell are you acting like I was entertaining them or something, I can't help looking how I look.”
You said slightly raising your voice. In your mind the argument was damn near pointless, you couldn't help what other men thought of you.
"This dress was obviously too short for this event, I'm sure you had other options with all the money you spend" He muttered in annoyance, purely talking without regard for his words. "Nanami you’re literally being ridiculous right now" Your eyes roll annoyed.
“I’m ridiculous?, I’ve stressed the importance of this event for weeks and once the time comes I am embarrassed and ridiculed by a dress” His voice snapped, every word feeling like sharp pain.
You bit your lip once again, this time swallowing the knot forming in your throat.
Your feelings were more sensitive than most, the slightest change in tone could leave your eyes watering even when you tried to stay strong. It wasn't cause you were emotionally weak, you just couldn't be angry without crying.
"I don't even know why i came if you were going to be such a dick about this, cause i didn't even do shit and you're mad" You sniffled, wiping your cheek.
" This is what I mean we can’t even have a conversation without you being so sensitive" The word stings badly, and he knew it. Between the argument earlier and his hurtful words, you felt like your emotions were suffocating you.
Immediately after you left the car the heaviest wave of guilt washed over him. "Fuck me.”
He follows you into the house, hearing the muffled sniffles leave your mouth. Wrapping his arms around your waist in an attempt to apologize, "Baby, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it I was just upset" Nanami whispered in your ear before leaving a trail of kisses down your neck.
"You can be sorry by yourself on the fucking couch or some shit" You pushed him off before leaving to your bedroom locking the door behind you.
His teeth gritted together in frustration and confusion. Sure you’d been mad, but never to the point where you would sleep alone. He was always there at night, either holding you or letting you claw his back like a chalkboard.
"What was the point of that shit” You said, eyes still stained red while tying your hair up your bonnet before removing your clothes. You sank your body into the hot bath water, allowing all the anger to wash away.
"I just want some sleep, today has been too fucking long” Covering your body was Nanami’s shirt nothing under but your pink laced panties. His top covered your body like a dress as the size difference shows. The space beside you feels empty and cold.
Hours went past, hours of nothing but your slight snores before a few knocks came onto the bedroom door. You tumbled and rolled in annoyance before eventually opening the door. "Sorry princess, did I wake you" He greeted you with his usual soft tone, only this time his presence seemed a little less intense.
Nanami’s body dripped with water as the loose towel around his waist just barely clung below his V-line. His print was very prominent, to the point where even the towel felt useless. "Can I come in?, If I'm going to sleep on the couch I could at least use some proper sleep attire." His hand grazed your cheek as you sleepily yawned, sluggishly moving out of the door frame without a second thought. "Mhmm," You mumbled before plopping back on the sheets.
Moving ever so slightly you revealed the pink lace beneath his shirt catching Nanami’s eye. "Fucking torture" He grunted to himself, changing into his clothes.
He slipped himself into bed as he crawled on top of you. Slowly peppering your neck with kisses causing you to wake up once again. "Nanami… I'm so mad at you right now" You mumbled under your breath half asleep.
He chuckled tracing his hands down your waist. "I know doll, and i'm sorry..." he kissed her lips as her eyes fluttered open "... so fucking sorry." He breathed in between kisses. "I hate it when you're mad at me, baby I was wrong" He pleaded as he lowered himself between your thighs. "Can I try and make it up to you, please?" He pleaded.
As badly as you wanted to be stubborn, to push him away from your body, you couldn't. The part of you that would've still been angry was asleep, though the part that needed him was awake. The faintest whimper "yes " left your mouth. "Just let me show you how sorry I am yeah?, His face lowered, biting the brim of your thong allowing his hands how explore your ass.
His fingers rolled over your clit through the fabric, slowly taking his time as he watched you twitch from the sensation. Your whimpers started lowly, as he began teasing you. Pushing your panties to the side, he exposed your puffy clit causing you to shiver. "Kento," his name rolled off your tongue.
Your body rolled in anticipation. Nanami gave you a long slow lick down your slit before sucking it. "I've missed this pussy" He speaks like he didn't have you screaming his name a few days ago.
His lips trailed kisses around your lips, watching every twitch and movement of your body. You bit your lip suppressing your whimpers, Everything felt so sensitive right now. "Please let it out baby, i hate when you do that shit." He says, his voice as calm as ever. Once he'd had enough of teasing his tongue slurps once more before following with a series of licks up and down your pussy causing your body to jolt.
Between every slurp he’d apologize, “So fucking sorry baby…so fucking sorry”
"Kento- please..." You whined lacing your fingers in his hair. One of his biggest accomplishments is that he never needed his fingers to make you cum while giving head. Nothing compared to his fascination with the taste between your thighs. He pushed himself deeper and deeper craving more of what he already had. His nose colliding with your clit making you breathe heavier and heavier.
“Fuck, that’s the spot” You moaned gripping his hair as your hips flexed forward. He wanted you still, he wanted you obeying every word, but he knew he was wrong and that you deserved every moment of pleasure without command.
“So-so fucking close” Nanami pace continued steadily but deep down he wanted to eat you until you broke, to the point where your brain was clouded with pleasure. “I know princess, I know” he muttered, feeling your hole clench. He slurped and sucked allowing your juices to flow onto his tongue even after you had came on his face, stimulating you until your legs were trembling.
“That tasted amazing doll” He praised as he finished licking the remainder of the mess he created. “You still mad at me?” He asked softly massaging your thighs.
ovulation week: pillow versus nanami (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)
cw: nsfw
every time you were ovulating, nanami knew. he was so used to picking up your little habits, whether it was the exact time you woke up in the morning or the way you liked your coffee, so naturally he picked up those too.
this time, it was more obvious. you found yourself underneath him after he caught you slotting a pillow in between your thighs.
“kento,” you whined. you were squirming underneath him and very impatient. he took his time trailing kisses down your body, from your neck down, whispering sweet nothings into your skin. you loved your husband with all your heart, but you weren’t in the mood for that at a time like this. you were growing needier by the minute, and you were sure he didn’t miss the way you rubbed your thighs together absentmindedly in anticipation.
he paused and lifted his head slightly. “yes sweetheart?”
you reached out your hand and tugged on his waistband. “please.” you pleaded. your wide eyes told him everything he needed to know. he undressed the two of you before pressing a kiss on your cheek.
“we’re gonna go slow at first so you can adjust, okay?”
you nodded and he pressed his tip to your entrance. he slowly entered you, rubbing small circles on your clit. you loved how thick your husband was, the way he stretched you out made you let out a small gasp. you clenched around him once he fully bottomed out, causing him to let out a low groan.
“sweetheart, if you keep that up, i’m not going to last.” he whispered softly.
as promised, he moved in and out of you slowly. he felt good, the delicious stretch sent a shiver down your spine. soft lips ghosted over your chest and neck. his flushed hips moved against yours at a steady pace. your warm walls hugged him tight, making him mutter curses under his breath.
“so tight,” he murmured. “my pretty girl is taking me so well.” your cunt fluttered at his words and you moaned into the pillow. you gripped his bicep, clutching it tightly as he set a faster pace. with each thrust, he buried you to the hilt, reaching that sweet spot deep inside of you.
“ken, you feel sososo good.” you babbled, the only thing on your mind being the addictive way his cock nudged against your velvet walls. the room smelled like a mixture of sex and his subtle cologne, and the only sound that filled the room was skin slapping skin.
nanami rested a hand over your stomach. “feel that?” your husband pressed down lightly on your stomach bulge. you tilted your head slightly and watched the way his dick pumped in and out of you with ease.
“yes!” you cried out. you clenched around him again, the sight alone turning you on more.
“better than that pillow, hm?” you whined softly, slightly embarrassed. of course he was bigger better than a pillow. a pillow would leave you horny with no relief. a pillow could never stretch you out like this and reach your g spot, let alone whisper sweet, yet filthy things into your ear as it absolutely ruins you.
only your husband could do that.
before you were about to come, nanami knew. "come for me my love. wanna feel you squeezing tight around me,” he murmered. at that, the orgasm washed over you. your thighs shook and you moaned into his name, milking his dick of everything it had. and he gave it to all to you. he emptied his seed deep inside your pussy, filling you up before collapsing on your chest with a soft groan. his lips brushed your ear as he whispered in your ear.
“remember, husband beats pillow in every universe.”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
“hold it.” his hands grabbed yours, guiding the cone into your hands and unfortunately the vanilla ice cream had already begun melting due to summer heat.
you could hear the soft rustle of nanami pulling out his wallet and exchanging cash with the vendor, his fingers intertwining to yours right when he was done. “did you try some?” he licked his own ice cream, gaze turned towards you.
“well its getting all sticky..”
“mines melting too, we better finish it before it turns to liquid entirely.”
you giggled before extending your tongue, swirling your tongue around the vanilla ice cream as the coolness of the ice cream immediately made your chest cooler.
“oh kento! this was the one we had at italy right?!” you exclaimed, nanami was watching you the entire time with a small smile on his face.
“hm mine tastes a little bit off.” he hummed, leaning in to lick your ice cream, almost making you drop it.
“hey you!—“ before he could chuckle, you easily found his ear, pulling his ear as his eyes widened, letting out a sharp protest.
“jeez! i was kidding.” his ear turned to a deep shade of crimson, a slow smile making its way over to your face as he gripped your wrist—begging you to let go— before your index and thumb finger let go of his ears.
he grumbled, rubbing his ears. “you’re so mean to the guy who just got you icecream.”
you giggled, licking your vanilla ice cream. “well to be fair you almost knocked down my ice cream and you’d have to buy me another one.” your arm found his, holding his arm around yours as he gracefully reciprocated.
he hummed in response, flickering his eyes to you before noticing the ice cream on the corner of your mouth. “my love, stand still.” his voice dropped slightly low, stopping both of you in your tracks as he pulled out his handkerchief from his pocket, dabbing the ice cream that sat at the corner of your lips.
“there.” he smiled, tucking a curl behind your ear. “messy girl.” he teased, watching you frown as you both continued walking to the beach.
“im teasing you, love.” he chuckled.
“you know what next time we should bring ino with us.” you smirked, earning a glare from him that you could feel.
“oh so you can both bully me?” he raised a brow, licking the remnants of his ice cream, biting his cone.
“besides, isn’t it more fun with you and i?”
“i’m teasing you, love.” you repeated, letting out a soft exhale as he squeezed your arm in defeat.
Summary: You and Jabber have had the same friends since Junior High still keeping contact all through out college, but one simple game of Uno changes the entire dynamic. Is it worth it or is he missing out?
!!CW!!: Friends to ???, fingering, mutual masturbation, kinda fluffy, sexual tension, hand job, spit play, reader has locs, sneaky, possible slow burn??
a/n: this was supposed to be a drabble but oh well
Now playing on HNEY RADIO at Playhouse Records..
Ginuwine- In Those Jeans
Jacquees- Bounce
Summerella- 11 Something
Ginuwine- None of your friends business (It’s a must)
Trey Songz- Panty Wetter
** You know what to do ;)
Keeping secrets for a friend is an easy thing to do but keeping secrets from a friend is a entirely different territory especially from a friend group you've known since middle school. It was pointless to keep things put of the loop when everyone was bound to find out anyways and knowing yourself, you couldn't hold water in your mouth so you were the last to find out anything, but that's how the group operated and how you all managed to make it through high school without scandals or rumors breaking you up like all friend groups go through.
Once college came into the picture that's when the group took a slight detour, August went to community college and made his living after forcefully becoming an intern at his favorite mechanic shop in town, Antwan went straight to work at Footlocker at your favorite hangout spot at Remlin Heights and worked his way up to Assistant Manger where he put Jabber on part time while You and him went straight into university with your closest friend Jaida.
Everyone all scattered around doing their own thing yet you all still found time to call each other, set up hangouts at Antwan's spot not too far from campus and the fact that you could confide in everyone about the silliest things and not worry about it tearing the group into shreds.
There was a time Jabber and Jaida tried to date each other in high school which resulted in Jaida coming out and Jabber questioning his sexuality. The group accepted them both simply because you all already had a suspicion, the relationship lasted all of two weeks and everyone forgot about it by the time you all graduated.
Except for August who likes to remind Jabber ever chance he gets.
Now the only issues that seem to arrive the most are time conflicting schedules, Jabber not sliding through for a favor or you doubling down on the money you lent August two weeks ago.
Antwan developing feelings for you? That was something nobody could've saw coming.
"Y/n? You talking bout thick head, bow-legged Y/n with the starter locs?" Jabber snickered, sitting on the kitchen counter eating cereal of the box
"C'mon you being wild.." Antwan groans, throwing up his hands.
"No you not thinking! She cool, nice whatever I just don't see her like that.." Jabber smacks, digging deeper into the box
"What you see her like a sister or something?"
"Nah like a homegirl, like Jaida that's my brother but Y/n? Nigga how that happen?" He questioned, hopping off the counter as Antwan called him over to show him something on his phone.
"She had called the group chat late last night you were slumped on the couch and I had just got out the shower, she needed somebody to you know talk to her while she was driving home so I kept her company."
"Oh nooo this nigga gone tender.."
"No! Man look- she really don't be on anything, this ain't the first time we talked like this either! I've been plotting on this for a minute and I think I might move on her tonight."
"Tonight?" Jabber tilted his head, looking down at Antwon scrolling through your Instagram.
"What you think I should do?"
"Not push up on her heavy! If you "serious" about talking to her like that be cool! Do what you been doing if she's comfortable talking to you like that I'm sure she fucks with you.." He sighed, leaning his head back to pour the rest of the cereal into his mouth. Jabber didn't believe the act coming from his roommate, did he believe that he had a crush 100% but making a move? He knew Antwon to be the type to tell him about a girl he met at work while ignoring the girl he called his wife blowing up his phone.
Jabber wasn't a clean slate himself but with the history the two of you shared he wasn't on the rooting side on Antwon's newest challenge, yet he kept it to himself mentally shaking his head as Antwon showed him a few more pictures of you in college, bringing up old memories.
"Her and Jaida'll be here later you called August?"
"He on the way said he got something new for us to try." Jabber smirked, dusting his hands on his pants as he finished the whole box of cereal.
"Bro that's the 2nd box this week!"
~
You were sitting on the edge of your best friend Jaida's bed rubbing lotion on your legs as she rummaged through her closet to find something to wear. You had your outfit of a light jacket with a fur hood, a cute top and some fitted jeans to go with your your sneakers.
"Okay something simple, we must be coming home."
"I'm not spending the night at Antwans, I talk to him enough.." You chuckle,sliding on your socks. A small silene filled the room with the occasionally click of Jaida hangars smacking together, it wasn;t until you looked up at her giving you a sarcastic look like she was up to something.
"What's that look for?"
"Oh nothing nothing, you seem real excited to see him today." Jaida smirked.
"Who? Antwan? Jaida stop playing what do you know?" You questioned, sliding your pant leg down.
"What are you wearing? I might have something to match that top actually."
"Jaida!"
"I'm not saying nothing!" She smiled, tossing a few shirts onto her bed.
"This is so childish.."
"I think it's funny, hilarious even."
You rolled your tongue inside of your cheek, cutting your eyes at the curly headed asshole still chuckling to herself. Part of you was clueless on who she could be talking about and the other half of you questioned why you were curious in the first place, it felt like high school all over again!
"You and Antwan been talking to each other real often haven't you?"
"Whatchu trying to say?"
"I'm just asking questions!" Jaida threw her hands back, her eyes running around the room as she laughed.
"I talk to Antwan how I talk to Jabber and definitely how I talk to August." You huffed with a small smile only because she kept snickering!
"That's because August can't hear anything when his mouth is open and Jabber's a lost cause, he came through with the answers back in college but a nigga that sells Reggie can't be trusted."
"Me and Jabber wouldn't work I'm sorry, he got too much going on and Antwan? I see him as a friend! Nobody was answering the group call except him so he called me personally!"
"So you don't think Antwan not fine?
"You think Jabber fine? Hmm? Tall Lanky nigga with them thick ass dreads?" You chuckled to yourself with Jaida joining you.
"Fuck you.."
"No more of this Antwan and me mess! Now pick a damn shirt we gotta go, liquor store closes at 7!"
"You rushing over to Antwan's now?? Mmmm…"
The conversation came to a fast halt once you found something to toss at her, missing terribly.
Antwan and you wasn't a thought to begin with, more of a day dream every once in a blue moon when you've had one too many but going past that? He was older by a year and showed some signs of maturity calming you down after a stressful work day at your now old job, it was only these recent calls have the conversations turned into something past just a piece of advice.
You weren't oblivious to the slick remarks Antwan would throw in every now and then, him all of the sudden asking what you're wearing to work and what kinda flowers you enjoy. You've known him for his flirtatious mouth and his ability to get free food at any restaurant he walks in, and you could always spot him out with his hair flowing down his back or his signature ponytail, his brown skin always tanned in the summertime showing off his tattoos each one of telling a story that he could go on for days though you didn't mind his tangents.
Him talking you home shouldn't have changed the dynamic between yall too much and tonight would be no different!
Once you and Jaida made it out of the house, you did your liquor run and set your route to Antwan's place just a few minutes away though you didn't need a GPS, hell your phone automatically asked if you wnted to go to his place which Jaida most definitely pointed out. With your music loud the bass of your car shook your windows as you pulled into Antwan's garage, quickly hopping out to bang on the front door like you were police.
When there was no answer you gave the door another harsh 3 knocks before Jabbber open the door with a cloud of smoke escaping the vents like lost souls trying to go home.
He had on his glasses and wore a burgundy zip up with black rhinestones in an exaggerated pattern decorating the front of it, his locs fell down his back as he pushed a few out of his face, the glint of his silver rings knocking you in the eye. The black and brown bead bracelets on each of his wrists were new since the combo he had were purple and grey the last time you saw him. It' d be a lie if you said you weren't practically staring him down once your eyes traveled towards his custom made letter "J" belt buckle holding up his baggy jeans piling up on his timbs.
The last time you saw Jabber was around a month ago when graduation pics and parties were going down along with a few face time calls of you or August crying about finals so it had been a while since you saw him in person. You always knew Jabber had a sense of style yet so this little ensemble he threw together shouldn't have shocked you the way that it did.
"Damn we don't speak?" He scoffed, mushing you on the arm playfully mean mugging Jaida who ignored him with a smile.
"Since when do I have to check in?" You chuckled to yourself, looking to Antwan with a warm smile.
"What's up Y/n.." Antwan merged his way in, he went in for a full hug and you reached around his neck with one arm squeezing him.
"Hey ya/'ll" You laughed before pushing past both of them to meet up in the kitchen with August and Jaida
"'Twan told me you were coming through! He got all excited and shit." His little comment made Antwan tap him in the chest causing Jabber to suck his teeth.
"Ya'll missed hanging out with us that bad huh?" Jaida hummed, dapping up August who was blowing smoke from a heavy pull on his bong.
"It's all these two dumbasses been talking about and I thought I ran my mouth.." He coughed, holding his hand out to you. You gave August a hug before setting your bag on the counter making your first move into the refridgerator. You've been in this house more than enough to not act like you live there.
"How ya'll been?" Jabber asked, hopping up on the kitchen counter.
"I'm doing goodd I'm all booked next week at the shop!"
"I thought you saved me a spot!"
"With what payment? Free tattoos are over with Twan I got mouths to feed,"
"Furry mouths.." August chuckled, passing the bong over to Jaida.
"And you? Miss daytime television?"
"The local news ain't all of that..but I managed to grab an internship and the leading news anchor wants me to shadow her for a week."
"I can definitely see you on TV, you might actually make me watch the news." Antwan chuckled.
"So what we doing? Chilling here or we going out to eat?"
"August wanted to order in and I granbed two games from the store so yo options are drunk monopoly or Drunk Uno.."
"I gotta work in the morning we not playing Monopoly.."
"Cuz August likes being the banker stealing extra money and shit!"
"Antwan can't count his money!" August spat back
"Drunk Uno it is, i'll keep the rulles simple. No stacking every plus 2 is 2 shots and a pluck 4 is 4 shots.." Antwan interjected.
"This nigga bugging.." Jabber mumbled, earning a chuckle out of you.
After you all finally agree to a set of Uno rules without cutting each other's heads off, you took a hold of the drinks while August carried his bong towards the living room. The game was simple whoever takes the least amount of shots wins with the player choice of a shot or a hit. Antwan opened up the game and sat on the couch with Jabber and you went to sit on Jaida's lap like usual.
"Woah woah what you doing?" Jaida looked up at you like you were crazy/
"I'm sitting on you whats wrong?"
"Un uh you like looking at cards I'm not getting fucked up because of you, over there." Jaida laughed, pushing you off towards the couch. You had some idea of what she was trying to do knowing that you always sit beside her.
"You can't sit by me I talk too much shit."
"Ain't nobody worried about you Twan.." You chuckled, sitting in between Jabber and him, cracking the bottle of liquor open to pour just a little over two shots to start. Everyone had their cups ready and their lighters by their side as the game started
"Wait wait you said no stacking!" Jaida spat
"That's a plus 2 and a plus 4 that don't make sense!" Antwan groaned
"Now you just cheating!" Your eyes shifting over to Jabber all in your deck
"She only got two cards left nigga think!"
" Uno out!" August cried, resulting in everyone taking a shot.
The first round went easy with August winning the first game and you winning the next two rounds meaning you were playing bartender for Antwan who didn't wanna take his shot and August who kept hiding his shots under the table. Jabber had his own cup and you swore he was taking baby sips judging by the way his cup never needed a refill
"The color is blue.." You hummed.
"Wack ass color.." Twan mumbled.
You felt a nudge from a heavy boot hit your leg as August went to pluck his 4 cards and load up his bong to take his hits.
"Mmccht what you got on you?" Jabber whispered.
"You flashed him a pluck 4 and he nodded his head quick, waiting another round before he dropped it on the table.
"That's on you Twan.." You spoke, laying the your down.
"What you got Twan?" Jaida yelled, a slight slur in her voice holding up a plus four of her own.
"Wait a minute how the fuck y'all do that?"
"That's 8 shots!" You cackled, sitting up to grab the bottle ready to pour.
"Put that down I ain't drinking shit!"
"While he's complaining I played my card it's August's turn!" Jaida blurted as you and Jabber couldn't hold your laughter listening to Antwan lose his mind about rules he made up to begin with. August threw his card on the table sending it to Jabber once again.
"How about this skip you, skip you fuck nigga and Jaida you pluck two now we all take a shot."
Everyone tossed their cards on the table with Antwan cursing at you for not assisting to his side, August felt set up by Jaida and Twan went at Jabber's neck, it was all a bunch of drunk nonsense when the truth was Jabber snuck out a few cards for himself while dealing the deck trying to get everyone fucked up.
"I got another round in me..don't tap now." Jabber laughed, throwing his cards on the table
"Yall got that shit I'm going to bed..y'all can crash here.." Antwan chuckled a yawn shortly following after.
"I'm about to take Jaida home, August you sure you don't wanna ride with us?" You asked, watching him get up and pat around to find his jacket.
"Nah! My girl she- she should be outside actually!"
"Tell Phoenix I said hey!"
You said your goodbyes even going so far as to stepping outside to speak to his girlfriend and making sure August himself made it in to the car. You waved them off, heading back inside to a sleeping Jaida, Jabber cleaning up the messy table and Antwan making his way over to you.
"I'm finna take a shower, you staying over?" Antwan mumbled, giving you another hug before trotting his way up the stairs.
"I gotta work in the morning remember? Plus I gotta get Jaida home before it's gets too late.."
"Alright alright, if you still here when I'm done I gotta talk to you bout something.." The room fell silent which meant Jabber had stopped cleaning or you were a little higher than you thought.
"Just tell me now drunkie " You blinked, crossing your arms from the cool breeze coming from the screen door
"It's something serious so between us alright?"
**
"Okay.." You scrunched your face in slight confusion as he trotted up the stairs. You closed the door and sat back down on the couch with Jabber placing the Uno cards back in the pack, tossing them on the table.
"You sure not spending the night? You can't be driving like that un un give me them keys.." Jabber mumbled, patting you down to find your keys stuffed in your pocket. You weren't putting up much of a fight due to you not having the strength to contribute to his antics.
"Nigga…this ain't the first time.."
"C'mon, I'll let you have the couch come finish Happy Feet with me." He smiled nodding his head towards the TV before picking up a left over blunt in the ash tray, grabbing the lighter laid out on the table to light it smoothly
"Hmm” Jabber hummed, tapping your hand with the lit blunt, blowing smoke in the other direction.
You took his offer holding it up to your mouth to get as much as you could before it burned your lips, thick yellow clouds of smoke surrounding the two of you.
He had his glasses pushed up on his forehead and his jacket unzipped exposing the baggy black shirt laying on his lap covering his belt buckle, you could see his chest softly rise and fall from how still you were, from how long you staring in his face, hard enough for him to swing his head in your direction.
He’s not supposed to look like this, you’ve smoked with Jabber before, plenty of times, spent the night at this exact house sleeping on this exact couch. Nothing had changed! He still talked to you the same, there was no subliminals you were missing right?
“You good? Need a blanket? I’m serious about yo ass not going nowhere. You can leave in the morning.”
“Yeah Antwan always got the AC blowing..” You spat, partially being honest about being cold, you just needed an excuse to snap you out of whatever you were thinking about. You ashed the blunt in the ash tray, scrolling on your phone to distract your mind. This is the same Jabber who clowned you for months after you started your locs saying you wanted to be him for the longest. The same Jabber you got greased up with early in the morning before getting on the bus, the same Jabber that made you laugh on your worst days and somehow getting through all four years of college hell you graduated with him.
What was so special about him tonight?
“Here..” Jabber spoke, tossing a thick comforter from the closet underneath the stairs over your head, closing the door to return back to the couch snatching some of the cover with a playful smile. The movie played on as the high consumed the both of you, you were trapped in your own thoughts and Jabber? His eyes were glued to the movie but the way he was nodding off proved just how bad he lost the Uno Game.
“You not sleeping in your room?” You spoke, tapping him on the head.
“I can’t lay with you? I’ll leave you alone once the movie over my bad..” He said with a snicker
“I’m playing Jay i don’t want you falling asleep on me..”
“You don't remember me falling asleep while your mom was yelling at us? That night we broke your bedroom door playing?”
“Oh my god, i woke you up out of your sleep i threw what was it?”
“A big ass bucket of cold water! Yo mama was pissed! had her floors all fucked up!"
“I aint sorry.” You giggled.
“That ass whopping ya mama gave you made you sorry.”
“That’s my cue to leave, hand me my keys..” You scoffed, rolling your eyes before a laugh snuck its way out of your lips. Jabber paused for a moment watching you giggle while adjusting yourself on the couch, pulling up the blanket to completely cover your lower half.
His glossy eyes glazed over your overgrown locs sitting on your shoulders, carefully watching how you rubbed your lip gloss in and how your nails clacked against each other every time you hit him in his arm or his chest. He liked to stick his finger right underneath your nose just to get you to pop him somewhere on his body. A favorite pastime of his.
He rubbed his head, pushing a few locs out of his face as he leaned back, grabbing the keys off of the end table holding them over his head.
“Oh these?”
“Jabari I'm not in the mood to move around, give me my shit.”
“Come get em..” He chuckled, leaning back as far as he could jiggling them up in the air. You rolled your eyes and indulged yourself into playing with him, reaching up to make the futile attempt to grab your keys.
You looked down at him, the comfortable silence engulfing you two. You studied his piercings, every indent in his skin, every tattoo you thought you knew about analyzing his features and little did you know he was doing the same. Eyeballing your lashes batting so slowly to him, how your perfume and your natural scent of warm amber, honeysuckle and incense it filled his nose with every breath he took.
His pink pupils peered down to your lips then back to your heavy, red eyes then back to your plumps lips cursing himself in his mind. Jabber never imagined seeing you like this, the TV being the only light illuminating the room. You knew the weed had your cunt throbbing like it was the only thing it could do, that had to be the reason Jabber looked this fucking good, the strain, the amount of THC any excuse to justifying borderline eye fucking your best friend.
Soon it became too much.
Jabber leaned in deciding close the heavy thick air surrounding the both of you. His lips tasted sharp like the blunt you smoked settling to something sweet as it mixed in with your gloss and the concoction he was drinking during the game.
You quickly pulled back, your eyes red and wide looking to Jabber just as bug eyed.
“I didn’t mean to-“
“I’m sorry-“ You both stammered over each other.
“Y/n-“
“It’s okay, it’s ight I kissed you back it ain’t like that..”
“I wasn’t supposed to- I wasn’t thinking..”
“I liked it..”
He paused like you uttered something forbidden, like this was the last possibility, Jabber thought he was dreaming.
"Huh?"
"Don't make me repeat it.."
"So if I did it again?"
His question almost didn't make sense, yet nothing felt real in this moment, like white noise filling in your ears. Your heart spoke so loud but something else screamed at you instead.
"What if we get caught Jaida's right there-"
"Who gotta know?" His voice in a hushed tone.
"Nobody.." You whispered, taking a small glance back at Jaida slumped on the recliner, before returning back to him licking his lips, his arm extended out across the back of the chair. The eye contact felt like pressure swelling between the two of you and not just from your thighs tossing each other back and forth to stop that pulsating feeling forming deep within. You always told Jabber he had a pretty ass face and you'd always get a corny response but now it had a whole new meaning, you couldn't hold yourself together.
You leaned back in and Jabber's finger fell right under your chin like he knew you'd give in first, pressing his lips against yours hard, trying with all of his might not to make a sound. His head tilled off to the side to deepen the kiss while you grabbed the blanket to keep your bottom halves covered, hiding his already twitching tip in his jeans.
His bottom lip found it way between your lips and you managed to feel his snake bites softly pinch you as you snuck a bite, earning yourself a satisfied groan. Jabber returned the gift, biting your bottom lip with a soft pull, feeling the coldness of his rings curl around your neck.
Your hand snuck underneath the blanket around his clothed shaft, cupping your hand around his warm dick as he softly huffed air out of his nose to fight the moans but you shushed him quickly by shoving your tongue into his mouth, feeling his hand guiding yours up and down his semi hard length.
"Mm- damn.." Jabber's voice just above a whisper, feeling a soft jerk of his hips trying to get your attention, tightening his grip around your neck. If the sounds of your lips smacking over and over weren't loud enough the noises of the couch of you and him fumbling to get each other pants off almost took the cake. Just as you felt Jabber's fingers trailing up to lift your shirt, a loud shift in the recliner shook the both of you still as Jaida in the recliner turned her body in the opposite direction covering herself with her own cover.
The thudding sound of your heart shattered against your chest and your body began to shiver, snapping your neck back at Jaida before Jabber took your focus back on him, holding his finger to his lips trying to hold back a laugh.
"You don't know how to keep yo voice down.." You whispered, covering your own mouth to keep your high giggles to minimum while he grabbed the remote off of the table still covered with uno cards and half empty cups of liquor to turn up the TV.
"Hadn't even touched you yet," Jabber sucked his teeth leaning back on the couch as he pulled the cover up. "Keep that same energy."
"Yeah?" Your eyes shuffled around your head, tugging him closer to you by his shirt giving him the green light.
"I don't wanna hear shit come out your mouth." He huffed, taking off his glasses and going in for your neck, returning back to his spot of yanking your shirt up to play with your nipples already hard to the touch.
"I promise you won't.." You pursed your lips, leaning your neck to the side to give him more access, feeling his pierced lip lazily leave kisses, distracting your mind with his tongue licking you before taking a chunk out of your skin like he was trying to get you to scream right off the bat. You bit your own lip hard, allowing the sharpness fade into adrenaline pumping straight to your cunt, pounding in between your legs.
His fingers played and tugged on your hardened buds as he repeated the filthy technique, kissing you to soothe the pain, licking to distract and taking any chance he could to sink his teeth in so deep you felt two or three of them break skin, yet you didn't want him to stop.
The smallest whimper escaped while Jabber soothe another bite mark with his lips, snickering to himself as he peppered kisses up to the shell of your ear and his fingers traveled further down to the top button of your jeans.
"What was that? Nah nah come on..I wanna hear what you sound like y/n…" His voice sent a chill down your spine and a stream of your own juices trickling down your leg. You helped him undo your jeans and slipped them off just enough to give him room to keep his promise. Your thumbs were tucked into the sides of your underwear nearly about to pull them down before the palm of his hand slid past the waist band using the pads of his fingers to tease your soaked clit.
You inhaled deeply through your nose, rubbing your lips together to prevent any more sounds to leave you. You didn't want to give him any reason to talk yet you were so close to cumming on his hand from barely anything. His fingers swiped your clit side to side before he slid them up and down, applying pressure on your clit drawing tiny circles. You weren't worried about your moans waking her up and neither was Jabber, you were both focused on the slight slippery sounds of your cunt and his fingers playing with each other.
"Oh my fucking..god…you wetting up the couch.." He huffed, pulling his hand back still coated in your slick, lifting up his shirt with your help. You flung his dick out of his boxers watching precum dribble out of his tip, small semi white beads dripping down his still growing shaft. Your heavy eyes widen at his girth as you stroked him, pasuing your movements to lick your fingers, staring back into Jabbers low lidded pink eyes.
Something clicked, maybe it was the weed or the fact that you couldn't blame any substance for what you were doing. There were no plans of shoving your tongue down your best friend's throat yet you showed no signs of stopping either once you spat on your hand, returning it back to his sticky tip to stroke him carefully, occasionally squeezing tighter in hopes to give him just a glimpse of what you felt like.
The colors of the TV danced on his skin keeping your eyes on Jabber as he leaned back in to peck your lips, biting his bottom lip to stop himself from cursing your name. The air surrounding the two of you grew so heavy and the way your nails damn near looked like decorations on his dick bouncing up and down, it was a shame only you and him could see the sight. Jabber popped his fingers into his mouth to clean the residue stuck on his hand before reaching over back into your underwear, playing with your swollen clit so hot to the touch, he had to suck in air like he burned himself.
You kept your movements at a steady pace up until the sneaky bastard slipped his two fingers past your pussy lips, dipping inside of your slick cunt with no hesitation. Your jaw fell open, slightly dropping as you inhaled sharply, immediately focusing on the meaningless words talking out of the screen as he went deeper.
"…fuck." You breathed, taking your thumb to play with his tip.
His hips snapped upwards, humping into your slippery hand like a sex toy, purposefully leaning closer to your neck releasing heavy breaths and stammers all in your ear while his fingers pumped inside of your pussy, curling up to tease that spot hitting it over and over. It was ridiculous how close you felt your orgasm creeping in, your walls stuttered around his digits and the slight cold pang of his rings brushing your clit ever so often drove your mind insane.
"Get that nut out for me, stroke that…ssssfuck.." Jabber whispered, taking his head from the crook of your neck eye balling you playing with his dick. Your hand sped up and you took the free one to place your finger over your lips, slowing your movements down to see him release more shots of pre staining your nails. His balls were full and his tip twitched with each stroke, it was obvious that he was close yet the more you pumped the faster he moved his fingers inside of your quivering walls.
You turned your head to the side, facing away from him to let your poker face fall, scrunching up your face as you felt that pressure about to burst, slamming your legs together to prevent a bigger mess than then one you already had on Jabber's fingers.
"S-shit..I'm cumming.." You mumbled
"All over my fingers…paint these rings for me ma…don't stop." He smirked against your skin, sliding his nasty fingers out of your cunt to play with your clit, rubbing messy circles to pull more noises out of you.
"Give it to me baby, you like how I'm playing with this pussy..cum for me.."
It was like a command the way your body follow instructions, your legs trembled and your eyes snapped shut as a soft stream of juices leaked out of your throbbing cunt. Your free hand cupped your lips to stop your own gasps feeling Jabber's pace pick up speed, finger fucking your through that harsh orgasm and making you lose focus on his dick at full length twitching in your hand. The thought alone triggered another ball forming inside of your lower stomach.
"Feel..too damn good.."
"I know I do.." His face painted with a smug smile.
Now it was too obvious what the two of you were doing under the blanket with Jabber slamming his knuckles deep inside of your pussy and you pumping him in rough, smooth circles. He took his finger out of your slimy mess one inch at a time, swearing to himself watching you fight to keep him inside. Your juices dribbled down his palm and he couldn't help to sneak a taste before adding to the mix your hand already had, helping you stroke his thick tip.
Jabber tossed his head back and moved his hand to let you finish the job, his dick felt so painfully hard that each throb felt like a cramp. His lower stomach tighten up causing his muscles to flex, prominently showing the sticky mess of your spit and slick staining his skin.9
Your clit shivered and your walls clamped around thin air yearning for something to stuff it full, how could he look this good? Did you miss something after all these years? The way his adams apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, fighting the urge to spill his nut all over your hand, his eyelashes fluttering each time you squeezed his tip it all felt so surreal.
"Where you want it? Where you wanna cum?"
"Ou shit…all over your face.." He whispered back, a tiny laugh trapped in his breath.
"Jay you not finna mess up my hair.."
"I won't I won't…ouu fuck please. Please?" His head popped up to lock his eyes with yours, begging softely without speaking a word. You knew if you went so much as a centimeter closer to his dick it would end up being more than just a quickie, his soft whimpers made the situation no better.
"Shhhh cum on my nails like you promised.." You hummed to him, leaning in to close the heavy air between the two of you. You swirled your tongue around his, releasing one too many moans sending shocks right to his dick. His veins rubbed up against your slick palms as you squeezed your fingers around the tip.
Jabber bucked his hips faster, practically fucking your hand and the only thing you could do was imagine your body riding his dick up and down. You pictured his tip puncturing your cervix and couldn't help but to bite down on his lip harsh to stop yourself from whining into his mouth.
You heard him groan out, swallowing up every syllable he gave feeling his hips stiffen up. You continued your fast movements focusing more on his tip, breaking away from the kiss to keep your eyes on his dick before warm heavy beads of cum spilled out coating your nails just like you envisioned.
"Oh fuck!" You slammed your hand over his mouth not letting up still pumping at full speed and what made matters worse was the flicker of a light upstairs followed by a few footsteps walking around fueling your already anxious thoughts.
"Shit!"
"Bari you sleep?" Antwan's voice boomed from upstairs
"Nah Y/n and nem bout to leave.." He blurted, feeling your hand snatch away. You licked off any evidence on your nails, rubbing your lips together to savor his taste. Without hesitation, Jabber pecked your lips just to sample what you and him would taste like, pulling back to stuff his painfully hard dick back into his pants.
The faster you tried to shuffle, the more you struggled to put your legs back inside of your own pants, you pushed the button through and immediately moved the blanket off of you to sit up straight, hoping the thudding sounds in your head were coming from heart pounding out of your chest and not Antwon walking down the stairs.
You snuck a look behind you before returning back to Jabber rummaging in his pockets for his phone. It would be a lie to say that you wanted to end the night off here. If Antwan wasn't awake, if Jaida wasn't sitting just a few feet away just how far were you planning on going?
He found his phone and went to grab the comforter to place it back into the closet door, tapping away at his phone.
"We still good right? I don't wanna-"
"We cool n/n, get her home I'll see you.." He whispered.
You nodded your head grabbing your keys on the table. You got up and walked over to Jaida in the recliner shaking the piece of furniture to get her up before shaking her body.
"Jai…get up we bout to go.."
"Mmmm!'"
"Un uh! We gotta go home!"
"I'm up I'm up!" She groans, pushing the blanket off of her, placing her feet into her shoes. You watched Jaida prep herself to go while sneaking glances at Jabber trying to shush your cunt from making noise every time you moved your thighs.
"Alright, come on.." She mumbled, rising up out of the chair.
"Get her mean ass on…" Jabber chuckled.
"Night Twon!" You yelled upstairs.
"I'll see you Jabber.."
I’ve seen the requests and i’ve been lurking trust, did not realize it’s been THAT LONG without some Jabari and i do formally apologize, does this make it a little better? (This has a high chance of being a series🤏🏾) Until next time and as always i will imagine with you in the next one
Summary: Your friend invited you to help him celebrate his first day out! You've only heard about them boys in purple and gold, you've never experienced one for yourself. For good reasons. You know how to handle your liquor and your cool but one cup is all it takes.
!!CW!! Wall fucking, pussy eating, backshots, cum play, spitting, dry humping, mentions of alcohol,
Now playing on HNEY Radio at Playhouse Records..
Lick-JOI
Point in my life- Gucci Mane
Nasty Song- Lil Ru
Trampoline Booty- Kstylis
Freaky Girl- Gucci Mane
Peaches and Eggplants- Young Nudy
p.s (N/n means nickname, f/c mean favorite color)
Greek life swarmed around you at a young age whether you liked it or not. From the time you could walk on two feet you were draped in red with the highest hopes from your mother to continue her legacy. So when you broke the news that you had no interest in crossing you could only imagine how many times she swore up and down she'd disown you but you knew the jokes were out of love. Partially.
Attending college was out of the question in your household whether you went to an HBCU online or on campus you were going to do something for the next four years. As one mom would do to any child of hers going to her old college, she prepped you with all of your supplies, ran her mouth over the college tour guide and gave her own rendition of what went down in each hall and last but surely the most memerable part of her grand speech before sending you off, she simply asked, no begged you to stay away from those Ques.
Your father must've been one the way she battered that statement into your head, all through highschool, all through middle school, warned you in front of the Que plot at the college!
"I don't wanna see you near it!"
"Mama, they leaving us behind!"
"I got people that work out here, they'll tell me!"
You swore to her not to interact, to breathe, let alone think about anything in purple and gold, don't even wear the color. She made it seem like you were signing yourself for a horror movie but you kept up your promise and skated through two years of straight A's, too many sleepless nights and managed to have a decent party life without ending up on anyone's hit list.
Another semester appeared on the campus of Canvas Town University and you snagged one of the best apartments right across the street with your roommate Liyah. You and her had the idea to move in after she had crossed into her sorority so the two of you wouldn't lose touch with one another due to her newly found sisters. Her heart was smashed once you told her you had no interest but you fully supported her during her presentation and went all out decorating her room.
Did you go to the party afterwards? Absolutely not. Why? When there's Delta's there's Ques and even a whiff of one can cause enough damage to fuck up your mental and you didn't wanna take any chances. Liyah couldn't understand what was so dangerous about them, during freshman year she would crack up watching you turn in the opposite direction anytime you heard a bark or seen anything in the color purple. At first she thought it was a joke but once she saw how serious your face was when you were impersonating your mother, she understood why you couldn't make it.
"I think she's just worrying you'll make the same mistakes she did, you gotta let that go.." Liyah snickered, tying up her shoes.
"I'm only staying for a song maybe two! If i stay too long one of them might scoop me up."
"What's wrong with that?" Yasmin yelled from the bathroom, taking pictures in the mirror. "I haven't had any problems!"
"You cried for the first 2 weeks he disappeared what are you talking about?" You spat back.
"Mind you Jaden hasn't even crossed yet, you just getting started." Liyah giggled to herself, putting on her red jacket. "You don't have to go to the probate but I'm coming back to take you to the party, you get the best videos of me."
"Oh that's all I'm good for? You not worried for my well being?"
"Don't stare too hard then, you made it this long right? Oh and what's your name for the night since you going undercover.." She snickered, waltzing over to the door to wait for Yasmin.
"N/n like usual.."
"I can't believe you still using that knowing you on the dance team, captain at that!" Yasmin rolled her eyes with a scoff still posing in the mirror.
"N/n got you into Sho's place last year! Unless you wanted to pay 60 to get in!"
"I'm not dealing with ya'll silly asses, I gotta be there early. Yasmin I'm in the car!" She shouted, grabbing her collection of keys to head to the door. Your friends knew this routine down to the youtuber you would throw on your TV, you laid back at the dorm while they had the time of their lives at Oil Spills, pool parties while you avoided the yard every chance you got, however tonight Liyah and Yasmin had better plans for your itinerary this year, starting with your 'first' Greek party.
By the time they were on the way back, you'd finished the last details on the dress you were sewing together made out of a really cute top you thrifted. It hung off of your shoulder and you made a few extra pieces of clothing to go along with it including a (f/c) you customized on a whim and a purse you crocheted. You topped the look off with some wrap around heels hearing the door unlock once you finished tying them off.
"You ready?"Liyah called to you.
"Let's go before I change my mind.." You scoff, wasting no time to scurry out of her way before she made any slick comments.
When you arrived to the house you were expecting the place to be packed with people filling up the lines but the most you saw were a few folks hanging around outside. You forgot to pregame at the house which meant spending an arm and almost a leg to get a buzz although you set a mental limit. A drink and a shot to celebrate Jaden, that's it and that's all. The short car ride over didn't make it any better, you were sober and paranoid that your mama had older friends specifically watching you like a hawk!
Your nerves were shot hearing your heels clicking on the pavement, a few men draped in purple and gold were heading towards their car slowly walking past your group earning some jeers and a couple laughs.
"Ease up girl, got your knees locked up please don't pass out in front of these people.." Yasmin said with a tap on your shoulder.
"I'm not! I should've brought a jacket or a liquor coat at least. Did you get any pictures of Jaden?"
"Nah I got videos and I'm screaming in every one of them, his head is so damn big-"
"Jabber shaved him clean it look like his work.." Liyah snickered, inching closer to the front where ladies got in free and the men had to pay so getting inside was the easy part. You walked past at least 10 of them without any issues, keeping your head up and following Liyah who had to greet everyone and find her sisters, leaving you and Yasmin to find where they were selling the liquor.
Pregaming should've been the decision once you saw what they were charging for the drinks, you were kind enough to buy the first round for the girls but your refund wasn't about to spent on cheap liquor.
"40 lovebug.." The girl tapped on screen.
"Well shit.." You scoffed, tapping your card on the reader, looking over to Yasmin grabbing her own drink, pausing a moment before putting it up to her lips.
"Forty dollars?! We could've gotten a bottle for that.." She grumbled, walking off with her face scrunched up from the bitter taste. The building was packed full to the brim, people were shoulder to shoulder watching all of the other sororities stroll while the others mingled and partied. You waved over to the DJ who you knew from freshman year. The crazy blonde nodded back at you while you sipped the sharp contents in your red cup.
"You seen Jaden yet?" The frantic woman asked, hopping on her tiptoes to see above the crowd.
"He should be over there like every other bald nigga in here I'm sure.." You snickered, taking a small gulp out of your cup, clinging onto Yasmin like a lost puppy through the crowd towards the front where you found Jaden and his new brothers showing off.
The ground shook as the boys hopped around in sync, spinning around tossing up their hooks to their heads, a sight you knew all too well. That's when then music lowered and one od the new initiates calmed the crowd down so they could show everyone the information they had learned.
Yasmin pulled out her phone immediately the flash hitting him in the face though he didn't budge, the boys shouted and sung their hearts out, not once messing up a single word and somehow got a laugh out of you. Once they were finished, your cup of tequila ran dry and your social battery wasn't far behind it seeing the room flood not just with new initiates but older Ques as well.
Song 1
The color pink glanced over your vision and of course you assumed one of the LED's has switched over or one of the AKAs took over the lighting department either way it bothered you enough to the point where you turned your head around to find where it was coming from, not that you wanted to explore a que party. It was bad enough you heard your mother's voice screaming at you to leave but you knew that if you came as a group then you left as a group. That rule went out of the window once you realized Yasmin left you to find her boyfriend, you turn in the other direction towards where Liyah was strolling her ass off with her sisters, there was no excuse to go off and record since she wasn't leading it.
The obvious choice here would be to push off to the bar, grab a refill and wait for somebody you recognize but with how jam packed the crowd of women became you were damn near frozen in place as all of the shaven heads disappeared from the floor, making room for the Pros to showcase what they've been doing for years.
Girls were bumping into you parting the dancefloor all dramatic like it was the red sea earning a few scrunches to your face. The DJ mixed in a slower song and the loud shrills of women slowly erupted hearing the gruff sounds of barks coming from the back, a long line of purple and gold pooling in. Some were wearing their letters, some of them weren't wearing anything at all! You were standing next to a group of girls recording a tall man with a fresh taper fade smile towards the camera, another one with waves, it was like you were being attacked from all sides of the field! He continued on with the rest of his brothers and soon enough a widely known chant thundered through the room.
The woman in there knew the chants better than they did!
You couldn't lie and say some of them weren't nice to look at but the only thing you could hear in this moment was your mama making you swear to never set foot on Que property let alone be at a Que party! All you had to do was walk off but a commotion of noise, a nicely mixed DJ set and a glimpse of what looked like pink caught your attention.
Long, thick locs swung near your peripherals decorated in gold jewels glimmering off of the cameras flashing in his way. He was dipped in sweat due to the intoxicating heat swelling up in the building and the one suddenly forming between your thighs. A small shudder scorched down the spine of your back eyeing the gold chain sitting around on his neck, they scanned his tattoos on his right arm leading up to his chest. That signifying branding marked his left shoulder. You found out that the source of the pink was coming from him once you noticed his eyes heavy lidded and fuchsia pink like a laser beam. His hands were veiny and thick covered with rings wearing camo pants with the waistband of his boxers showing up just above his belly button. He carried a hefty happy trail along with his v line not too sharp but just enough to imagine laying your own tongue on it.
The way he moved not only did it call your attention, you felt like a snake being hypnotized by a purple and gold flute. A big, locced purple and gold flute.
He hopped closer, stomping the ground so hard with his boots, you even watched his shoe tongue flap with each movement you didn’t wanna miss a single detail, yet you were missing the biggest red flag of the evening. You go to lift your head to see that same pinkish glow connect instantly to your vision and your body ran hot.
The line paused right in front of you, holding the gaze for what felt like minutes. The sweaty bastard had the nerve to lick his grills showcasing a silver piercing sitting right in the middle barking at you with a smile. A sharp, gold plated smug smile. All of the women around were hollering his name and soon enough a chant had started again due to the man of the hour swinging his neck in your direction, like he was speaking directly to you.
Everyone knew the words. You knew them too.
You knew them yet your lips never parted, fearing that this was how they caught their prey, yet you didn't look away. You didn't want too. Keeping up a safe face, the pink eyed stranger moved along with his brothers down the line and you kept your eyes locked onto his frame, blinking yourself back to normal and few girls bumping into you to follow them along. You had one mission only, find your friends and get the hell on. You weren’t supposed to be here especially in the front row like a buzzard!
"Over here Y/n!" You heard your friend call with her arm covered in bracelets waving around in the air. You used her noisy arm to guide you to where they were, going to the man of the hour who finally had a moment to breath.
"Aye Congratulations! You made it out!" You exclaimed, giving your friend a big hug, wiping some of the sweat off of his bald head.
"I appreciate it.." He said with a sigh.
"You tired ain't you?"
"And the night's not over yet.." He said with a chuckle receiving a large pat on his back from a familiar face.
"Yeahhh That's right Ace!" A voice barked.
"Oh yeah, N/N this is Jabber! He's the president of this chapter." Her eyes narrowing in a way.
"We've met.." His voice cutting through the music.
"Have we?"
"Excuse me where are my manners?" He snickered holding out his tatted hand to give you a proper introduction. His demeanor was lighthearted with a sense of goofiness wavering over you causing your face to painfully pull into a smile.
"I'm Jabari Wonger, president of this chapter of Omega Psi Phi Fraternity Innnncorporated majoring in Chemistry with a minor in Psychology.." He spoke proudly, recognizing the cadence of his words. You were silently wishing you could launch the back of your hand right into Liyah's snickering face knowing she had something to do with this.
"Nice to meet you Jabari..I'm N/n.." You said, skipping over the details hoping to end this interaction so you could make your way to the door.
"Alright n/n now we've met properly, what you babysitting in that cup?" His accent thicker than the humidity.
"It was tequila."
"Oh nah nah come with me I got something for you, ever had a cup of oil?" Jabber smiled, flashing those grills once again.
"Oil?"You questioned while Yasmin and Liyah giggle to themselves eyeing your reaction. You knew a few things about Greek life but clearly not enough if everyone else wasn't as clueless as you.
"It's good we promise, I'll get some with you." Yasmin said, walking closer to hold onto your arm.
"One cup.."
"That's all you'll need.." He said with a smirk, nodding his head in the direction of the kitchen. He held out his hand earning shocked looks from the girls, they swatted their hands at you to take it and you shook your head no before he looked back.
"You coming?"
~ Song 2
Walking into the kitchen like area people were standing around what looks like a big ass cooler sitting on the island filled with black liquid and various fruits floating around the mixture. People had their cups out waiting for one of the Ques to pour them a cupful, just once glance at the intoxicating mix made your stomach churn, it had enough alcohol into it to convert Wiz to be an alcoholic.
Jabber dapped up the man pouring the drinks, moving him out the way so he could take over grabbing you a fresh cup from the stack to dip it inside, filling its contents almost to the brim. You looked at the tatted man handing you the cup immediately looking back to your friends waiting patiently to get theirs with eyes that said "What the fuck do you have me drinking?"
He poured the girls some and like magic they disappeared back into the crowd once again leaving you in his presence. It was one thing to be a wing woman and leave you alone to do your thing but it's completely different when the thing you were trying to do wasn't working and that was to LEAVE!
"Here I'll take a sip with you.." Jabber said knocking you out of your long continuous train of thought. You watched his adam's apple bob up gulping it down like it was ice cold water, peering back to you taking a full sip, pursing your lips to mask your face from the kicking you in the mouth.
"This shit taste like.."
"Like juice I know.." He paused. "Where yo letters at?" He spoke up, his eyes scanning your physique looking around for any paraphernalia or anything attached to your bag with a sorority on it.
"I ain't affiliated I'm not in that life, strictly GDI.. You snicker, your pupils locked onto the black liquid as you sipped its contents.
"In that life.." He chuckles. "Indecisive or you focused on something else?"
"I don't wanna see you near 'em! It's nothing but trouble with all of 'em! Promise me Y/n!"
"Indecisive, my mama's a Delta and she's pushing for it.."
"Okay future Legacy..I saw them eyes don't think I forgot about that.."
"About what?" Your cheeks pulling at a hard smile.
"You know what I'm talking bout, yo jaw still out there.." His slick gold plated smile making another appearance in the low lit bar area. "One of yo boyfriends made the line or-
"I'm here for my friend it ain't even like that I don't mess around with 1911.." You shut him down quick chuckling at your own joke
"So I've heard.." His hot pink eyes dancing from your lips to your pupils, licking his own to stop him from biting them. The colors of the LEDs flashed on his skin as he talked and it would be a lie if you said you weren't following his every movement, the way he swayed leaning his back on the kitchen counter peering down at you. You weren't tiny but his figure made it seem like he could swallow the entire room with his energy alone, there was no way you could keep up the eye contact yet Jabber had his ways of keeping you focused on him. The air was thick and sharp due to the liquor you were standing right beside, the music was loud but not to where you couldn't hear yourself think but what would be the point? Words didn't make sense in this split second of a moment, your mind was flooded with images of him slinging his tongue around and that was enough to convince you that his powers were working.
"…but I promise you I've seen you somewhere else.." His words coming through like your ears has been unplugged.
"I'm not even on campus enough for you to see me you can't use that on me.." You laughed with him, his long locs moving along his body as he swayed.
"It's hitting you like that?" You joked.
"Oh I'm two cups down you gotta catch up lil mama..wait I ain't get your na-"
Song 4-7
Another song queued up in the atmosphere as Jabber's question fell on silent ears once his head leaned back knowing he had to find his brothers. You peered behind him to see a few of the organizations line up and in the crowd you spotted Liyah front and center knowing that this was your escape route to get out but a strange part of you wanted to linger around in his presence. Whether it was the liquor or not you hated to admit he was clever with his words and corny enough to make your sides hurt.
"You gon keep an eye on me?"
"Not this time..but you'll see me somewhere."
"Imma get that dance." Jabber smirked, creating an inside joke and knife deep tension in the air.
You only gave a smile at him, walking off into the crowd towards Liyah letting out a deep breath of relief. You did the deed! You spoke and had a conversation with a man in purple and gold and didn't die. Part of you knew it was silly and kinda corny to be this paranoid but the other part had it's reasons
It's stupid, outdated reasons.
You pushed through the neos and made your way to the Pros with your phone out ready to record on the sidelines still sipping that oil in your cup suddenly tasting like sharp juice.
A familiar voice made your skin jump once you heard Jabber and his brothers coming from the other direction, you kept your camera steady on Liyah throwing her elbows hard enough to crack a nostril, you learned your lesson real good last year when she crossed not to get too close.
Step by step, one hop after the other he inched closer, it was starting all over again but this time you were determined to get your footage and move on with Liyah right out the door. You quickly got back in the line of people saving all of your clips looking down a second too long seeing the sea of red fade into a pool of purple and there he was right in the middle throwing his hook in the air and shaking his neck as his locs flung around. It was impossible to look away especially when that comforting color of pink filled the atmosphere.
One of the men stepping along the room went in the crowd and swooped a girl right off her feet, hopping her to the groove of the song and then another followed by a quick yelp each time, now that comforting color of pink blared into a fiery red, your heart changed up it's pattern thudding in your chest like a beat up fan.
Jabber had set his target in stone.
One second you were on the ground and the next you felt weightless watching the angle of all the cameras change. Your legs wrapped around his waist like it was an instinct and you didn't know if you wanted to shield your face from all the eyes or focus on him but Jabber made that choice for you.
The way his voice rattled in your chest as slung his tongue around his lips, saying the words with a growl tucked in his throat. It didn't help that your heat was pressed up against his toned stomach and every time he jumped you went right along with him slightly grinding against him.
His sweat marked your dress like a souvenir and that same smoky scent covered your lungs like you were being hypnotized by a baked good. You wanted to see if he tasted just as sweet, the oil was doing exactly what it was supposed to do, lubricating your walls and allowing that glossy look to wax over you.
Your arms nestle around his neck and you couldn't contain your own giggles and smiles any longer and soon enough he sat you back down on your two heels at the end of the line but some of his brother kept their girls in the air toting them around like trophies.
"Told you I'd get it.."
"That ain't funny! And it doesn't count we wasn't dancing."
"Show me what we 'posed to do.." His eyes flickering up and down.
Everyone in the room ha spread out and went off into their own worlds with the all of the fraternity's colors covering the living room floor. You had a feeling that Liyah was somewhere near the front door and hunting for Yasmin became a lost cause, alarms were ringing in your ears or what you heard from the bass of the speakers knocking your eardrums. People surrounded the two of you enclosing the both of you into your own bubble, Jabber took a hold of your hand turning you around your ass connected to his hip pushing up against you while you gave him a little taste of what you could do.
His tatted hand rested on your cheeks as you bent over to get a better feel of what was poking you underneath the material of your dress. That's when you felt Jabber's hands grip your waist fully, pulling you back to slow your movements before releasing you to move faster. A moment you were glad nobody had their cameras on to see.
You were being so thankful about your dress covering that slick sound of your other set of lips starting up a conversation you were urging to have, with the way he was slightly humping your hips to the beat of the song you didn't know how much restraint and resolve you had left in you. Although, you were having too much a good time to think about what your hips were doing, you didn't make a commotion in the crowd but to Jabber all eyes were on you grinding back on him while your ass moved.
A cold shiver ran up your spine as Jabber's hand snaked up your back to wrap around your throat, turning you back in his direction. His pink eyes peered down at you squeezing your neck like he was trying to stop himself from sliding his tongue in your mouth. He pulled in his bottom lip releasing some of that pressure off your neck turning his head to the side smiling hard.
"Quit playing with me.."
You stepped close to his frame, close enough to smell the alcohol on his breath hesitant with your words, fighting a war in your mind and the oil was winning
One kiss wouldn't hurt right?
It was a miracle the way you didn't slip on your own feet walking up the stairs although you spoke too soon seeing Jabber stumble a bit in the unfamiliar hallway. Tiny giggles filled your ears as his little mishap ended with his back pressed up against the wall and your tongue shoved into his mouth earning a satisfied groan from his lips.
His hands shuffled from your hips down to your ass poking out of the small material underneath, cupping and squeezing with a firm grip, laying a heavy smack causing you to gasp into his mouth. You took this opportunity to pull on his bottom lip, taking a small second to look at his tongue piercing before going back in to decorate his face with sticky glossy kisses.
Before you knew you it your back slammed against a nearby wall, lips were smashing together damn near clashing with his grills. Soft heavy hands carefully explored your body as you sucked in a breath from his rings gliding over your ass, sent adrenaline to your mind as he gives it a sloppy squeeze followed by a heavy smack which left you moaning in his mouth.
"Un uh c'mere.." He smirked on your lips as the two of you stumbled back and forth.
"Come get me.." You murmured.
Your arms attached around his neck inching deeper into the kiss. Your little grunts and whimpers only fueled Jabber ego knowing his touch had you ready to melt at merely nothing. He hooked your leg around his side, daring to pick you up like he did in front of every camera in the building, the sinister giggle he left on your lips gave you just strength to do it again! In one swift motion he scooped you back into his arms, pushing your thighs up further than they were supposed to go.
"W-where you- Jabari!"
Jabber placed you up onto his shoulders, your thighs resting perfectly around his neck face to face with your cunt radiating heat and like the nasty dog he was he sniffed you out, moaning to himself before going in to peel the thin material to the side with diving head first into your leaking pussy.
All you could do while the bass of the music boomed through the walls was catch your breath in the palm of your hand. Your other hand dug deep into his locs forcing his warm lips to kiss her first and he was quick to grant your wish. Jabber's tongue soothed your sensitive bud with a long nasty stripe quickly lapping at your juices letting it run down his chin. Like he gave a fuck about making a mess.
He shook his head side to side smearing your slick around, hands gripping on to your trembling thighs oh so tight they left indents on your skin and your back was trapped on the wall, elevated in the dark atmosphere.
"Oh…shit.." Your voice only coming up to whisper as your mind wondered just how high he had you in the air. Quickly, your eyes scanned the dark room ahead of you noticing the ceiling just a few feet away and a pink eyed que dog drooling all over your cunt. Soft subtle moans could be heard from him seeing his eyes shoot up at you and the bastard had the nerve to smirk against your clit, flashing those gold grills while his tongue teased that hole aching for something to fill her. A long mewl later and Jabber's lips wrapped around your now swollen bud aiming to drain that orgasm sitting heavy on your lower stomach.
"D-don't let me…fuck. I don't wanna fallll.." You whined, ignoring your own thoughts by bucking your hips into his mouth, feeling him flatten his tongue so you could grind on the ball of his tongue piercing.
"Mhmmm I wont baby.." His voice muffled by your folds and the sounds of your pussy playing with his tongue. He found his way inside of your heat, pressing past that first ring of resistance earning a harsh gasp from you and a pleasing groan from the nasty dog.
You were practically sucking his tongue inside the way he spread it out made your eyes cross over themselves yet Jabber still pushed on, sliding his wet muscle in and out.
"Oh my god..how you…shit right there right…" You were mumbling tipsy nonsense while you were humping this random man's face and you couldn't stop a thing if you wanted to due to you dangling in mid air. You took both of your hands tangling them into his hair as your walls quivering around his tongue ready to make his grills shine so fucking bright with your slick.
"Gimme that shit.." He pulls back to spit a long drabble of spit on your already glistening cunt, diving right back in lapping up your clit as he slurped to clean up his mess and create a new one at the same time.
"C-Cumming J-ja..I"
"Jabber baby..Jabber.."
"Fuck! Jabber!"
Your felt your body slip off of the wall just an inch watching Jabber pull you in closer to savor your taste, sending a shock wave of nerves across your body only aiding in your building orgasm ready to burst. However, you came oh so close to the top just for Jabber to snatch his jaw away right at the last second causing your thighs to quake around his neck. His dick throbbed at the sight of your dripping cunt oozing all for him, he couldn't catch his breath!
"Taste like juice.." He hummed diving back into your heat with tongue extended layering long heavy licks causing all of your nerves to come undone into his mouth satiating his hunger.
"Y-Yessss.." His filthy lips wouldn't stop, he sucked your orgasm right out of you and continued his sloppy uncoordinated movements, groaning out loud as he slobbered all over your twitching clit
"Oh my god..pussy don't want me to leave do she?" He growled, teasing your hole with the tip of his tongue before flicking up towards your clit then back down to plunge inside tasting your slick walls. His nose nestled right on the mound of your cunt lightly brushing the hood of your clit causing your eyelids to glitch and your legs to squirm on his shoulders fighting that pressure rising once again.
Your thighs closing in on his jaw wasn't enough to make Jabber lose his focus, instead he laid a heavy ring filled smack against your flesh, grunting into your cunt while his fingers left indents in your skin. It didn't matter if your thong was in the way or not he felt the ball of his piercing roll over your clit again and again, holding your clit in his mouth feeling your hole leak more of your juices on the side of his face.
"Fuckkkk…"
"Jabarrrriiiii..ohhh shit!' You cried out, slamming a hand over your mouth while your body convulsed, your eyes dancing around the dark office like room.
Jabber slid your legs off of his shoulders, listening to your heels clack and stagger against the hard floor. You felt like a fresh baby deer the way your knees knocked together though the moment lasted mere seconds before you dropped down to your knees, head woozy from the mysterious oil. It didn't matter if it was your own doing or the help of the alcohol the only thing that lingered in your mind was figuring out what he tasted like, Jabber was on the same page.
"See what that mouth talking bout.." Jabber unbuckled his belt, the clicks of the metal ringing in your ears revealed the rest of that happy trail you envisioned earlier, the way your mouth drooled you felt like a dog in heat yourself. When you were mindlessly hopping around in his arms and felt his semi poking you underneath your dress, your mind instantly pictured your lips wrapped around the head of his dick never did you think you would have a chance to showcase your imagination
His natural musky scent filled your nostrils as his dick sprung free from his boxers tapping his ridiculously carved stomach, the main reason he stopped your climax from crashing down was to prevent his own from sneaking up on him. He winced grabbing his own length, spreading the nasty white liquid with each stroke squeezing out semi clear beads of pre.
You groaned at the sight, sliding your wet pink muscle out decorated in spit lines, taunting him, silently begging him to cave in and do his worst yet he only inched inside of your warm mouth, coating his shaft as he pumped into your throat at an agonizingly slow pace. Lewd sounds of him hitting your uvula over and over drove him insane, thank god for the music or else the entire party would've heard his steady grunts or your throat filling up with spit.
Your acrylic hands wrapped around his slippery shaft stroking him into your mouth, moaning on his dick as you swirled your tongue around his tip, neck bobbing up and down
"Ahhh fuck! No hands..no hands give em here.."He huffed, grabbing at them rather than swatting them away so he could intertwine his fingers with yours keeping them steady on the wall. His hips rolled further into your mouth producing nasty globs of spit to fall on the sides of your chin, easily sliding in and out with no resistance. You were breathing manually through your nose, eyes shut prickling with tears forced to listen to his drunken praises and low gutteral moans leaving his body due to your throat tightening up on him.
"There you go there you- oh my god! That's a good girl take it..slobbering on my dick like this look at you making such a pretty mess mama.." He cooed, hesitant to keep up his movements as his knees buckled underneath the hot and heavy pressure rising in his lower stomach. Your spit muffled moans only made it worst! Your eyes flutter open gazing up at Jabber's illuminated eyes peering right back at you with his bottom lip tucked in, his breathing hitched in his chest fighting off those loose whimpers escaping his own throat.
"Mhmm you want me to cum all on this face don't you baby? Keep that throat open for me gahhhh- fuck!" He slurred, confused in his own mind why his balls were tightening up so quick, it felt foreign to him. His thrusts became sharp, powerful and sloppy hoping to ruin your voice not just from you screaming his name. Jabber plunged back and forth each time grunting harder to keep himself steady, running his mouth through gritted teeth. He squeezed your hands tighter as you felt his balls hit your chin at a faster pace, they tignten up and the cramp in his lower stomach became too much for him to handle.
"It's like that? You gon make me cum like that? Imma give it too you ma..Imma- shhhiiiitt!" You felt his tip jump in your mouth followed by a sharp savory taste staining your tongue before he abruptly pulls himself out of your mouth to spray your lips with the rest of his seed like he was painting you with fresh lip gloss.
"Ho my god you done made me nut off some head?"
You only moan in response swallowing every drop trying to finally catch your breath, if being held up in the air made your legs tremble you weren't prepared for what Jabber had in store as he stood there still stroking himself to spread the sensitivity, what you were about do next definitely took the que dog once he saw you stand back into your feet hiking up that homemade dress up to expose your aching cunt spilling and spitting up your juices.
"Put it in me.." You murmured, the muffled bass of the music thumping in the room.
"Thats what you want?" He grinned, inching closer to plant his hand right beside your skull on the wall, taking the other to draw lazy patterns on your thigh, cupping the fleshy material to wrap it around his waist. He tugged on that thong nesting so perfectly between your cheeks tossing them on the floor. Jabber leaned into the side of your neck and you swore you heard that signature bark in your ears but instead the slick bastard laid a nasty lick on your skin angling the tip of his dick to line up with your entrance carefully sliding your slick up and down on his shaft.
"All night you've been giving me that look…uh huh that look right there.." His voice melting like butter as your eyes locked on to each other. "I gotchu mama he gon get you right.." He taps your clit 3 times, being so polite to knock before he enters leaning his hips forward allowing him to ease his way inside of your tight cunt sucking him into your warmth. The both of groaning at the point of connection.
"Ouuu fuck…"
"Let him stretch you out…"
"Y-yesss J-jabber…"
"Louder baby they can't hear you.." He smiled, keeping his position steady rising your thigh up once again to hook on his shoulder to give him the deepest angle watching your face fall apart with each stroke. Your words couldn't be processed the only noises that could be made out where broken slurred syllables of his name. Your hands rested on his shoulder digging your nails into his skin as you rubbed on his body, your fingertips ran over that branding sitting on his shoulder and it drove your mind into pieces feeling his muscles tense up underneath you.
Your sopping wet cunt became the star of the hour as he pushed up inside of you, eyes focused on watching your every movement. The veins of his dick rubbed up on your creamy walls puncturing that gspot he found in no time sending black and white stars to your vision with the color pink dancing around in your mind.
“Over the music? Huh? Yeahhhh You want everybody to know what i’m doing to you.. I knew…you were…a slut…”
He slung his dick deep inside of your core with each word, grinning to himself as the color white stained him like a brand new paint job. You growled and drooled onto the wall with joyful tears staining your face as your swollen cunt spat out more of your sticky fluids, dribbling down your thighs.
“You tightening up on me? H-Hah…shhhit! Yeahhhh I know, this dick fucking you stupid? Already?” He laughed, stuttering on his own moans as he felt your sloppy pussy clamp down on his length, tugging him in like a warm hug.
“Deep, long strokes is what this pussy needs? Listen to this shit." He trailed off from the feeling of his dick slowing it's pace to watch you swallow him up
"So...thick...fuck!"
"Keep talking bout it." He smirked.
"I feel..so fucking full.." You whined, plopping your hips back to keep you with his ridiculously slow thrusts. You felt his hand creep up by the side of your face, whimpering as his fingers slipped in your mouth allowing you to suckle on them muffling you further as his hips picked up speed You drooled like a bitch in heat with your eyes rolling back in pure drunken ecstasy,.
"Jab-berr!!"
"That dick got you drunk mama?" His voice came out almost like a growl, breathing so hard against your neck. There was no way in hell you were about to stare him down while he slung his dick in you like this, yet Jabber didn't give a fuck what you wanted in this moment. He grabbed your chin with no hesitation, forcing your eyes to peering to his pretty pink orbs as he drug his dick in and out, his cheeks pulled into a ridiculous smirk seeing you go in and out of that subconscious trying to stay in the moment instead of going to la la land.
"Where you at?" He lays a few taps to your face, slowing down just a bit to get a good look at you.
"I'm good I'm good…please…don't stop.." You whined to him, your words still coming out coherent enough for him to keep going, that was all the consent he needed to pull out of your soul sucking cunt to turn you around to face the wall. Your hands held on to the surface as Jabber spat right on the crack of your ass spreading it with the tip of his dick right before he pushed back inside of your heat, a long cracked out moan leaving his lips.
"Pussy so….ssssfuck!" He winced as he stood there remaining still letting that pressure build up, you took your hand to spread your cheeks open just so you could push back on his dick with slow, calculated bounces. You felt his skin clap against yours and your juices coat his dick disappearing inside of you over and over. It was like something in your mind had switched over, that searing hot feeling of his dick pressing past that barrier hit like crack, spreading yourself wider so you could take every inch not realizing you were giving him more access to fuck you up how he wanted to.
"Take this pussy from me.." Your own lustful thoughts failing you due to your words being spat out loud. You slammed your hips down with a much harder force
"This my pussy?"
"Oh fuck…yessss."
"Stop lying.." His dick sliding in and out of your pussy at a steady rate as patches of white cream covered his shaft. "Fuck why you creaming on my dick like this?"
"You stuffing me so fucking good.."
"Gon make me cum in this pussy, you gon let me cum in this pretty pussy?" he lays a heavy smack to your ass, slamming into your squeezing cunt that much harder, knocking the wind out of your lungs, there was no where to run! He had your head pinned against the wall with his ring covered hand, pussy spread open taking every inch he promised to give.
You paid his question no mind not giving a fuck about the repercussions in this very second, he could cum in your mouth, buss one on your face and damn sure cum inside of you if he kept laying that thick length inside of your creamy walls the way he did. How could Jabber keep his composure with your ass swallowing him up? Your pussy choking him out like he owed you something? You could tell how close he was based on how his hips slurred with his sloppy non-calculated thrusts. He was no good.
Jabber removed his hand from your back popping his thumb into his mouth coating it with spit laying it back on your puckering hole gazing back at him, he teased you with the tip of his thumb testing the waters as he popped it inside with ease, groaning at the sight of his dick entering you and him pulling you back like a cock sleeve.
"Hooo my fucking god…" Jabber growled shoving his free hand to the side of your face, mushing you into the wall as he pumped his dick inside of you, playing with that hole pushing it in further. His gold cover smirk illuminated the room as his threw his hips into your stomach watching the recoil on your ass ripple time and time again.
"Im gonna cum if you keep—fucking me—like….like ohhhh Jabber!" Your mouth was clamped over by Jabber's cool ringed hands turning your wild outlandish screams into muffled bass just like the music still bumping from downstairs. Jabber should've covered his own drunken lips since his moans were just as broken as yours. His heavy warm breaths along with cracked out whimpers mixed into the air, his hips ricocheting off your ass.
"Please..please mama cum all over this dick..oh fuck! Let me cum in this pussy please? Move yo fucking hand!" He barked, grabbing a hold of your wrist to keep it in place, slowing his strokes down creating a mind numbing pace coaxing more of those sweet juices to drip on the floor.
The pressure of his dick hitting your inner core over and over swelled up like gas in a balloon, you felt like you had to pee yet he didn't stop digging so deep inside of your pretty pussy, he was determined to pull everything out of you and then some, the bright idea to push him back became a futile one as he slipped his thumb out to pick your body off of the wall like a rag doll placing you on a nearby dark wood desk. His arm shoved the papers, pens and pencils all to the ground just to place your body on the surface returning his painfully pleasurable pace holding your ass cheeks open to lay another line of spit on your ass watching it dribble down
"Such a nasty lil bitch.." He grumbled
"You a…nasty….fucking…dog…"
"Say it again…say that shit again!"
"You a…fucking…dog…..jabber…fuck!" A sharp cry echoes throughout the dark room as your juices trickled down your legs making a small puddle on the floor. Your thighs convulsed together and your stomach cramped from how deep he was punching your guts. All of your moans mixed in with Jabber's strung out groans feeling his dick twitch so deep inside, you didn't have time nor the energy to notice your phone going off the hook in your bag that fell on the floor moments earlier.
Your arms stretched out over the hardwood gripping onto the edge of the desk while you drooled, letting your eyes bounced along with your body as Jabber crumpled up the bottom of your dress using it as leverage to bring you back on his dick every time.
Heavy smacks stung your skin feeling his thrusts becoming sporadic and hungry, he leaned forward to sink his teeth into the back of your neck, using his whole hand to grab you up by the neck to sling you down on his dick, regaining a second wind listening to the lewd sounds of your pussy gagging on him.
PLOP PLOP PLOP
"Stuff this pussy..I can't take this…I- Yessss Jabber!" You turned your head around like a dunce to try and get a glimpse of him, drilling his length so deep.
"Yeah you can baby…oh I know…" He whined, his eyes widened once he locked eyes with you, gazing at your mouth being agape from his dick throbbing inside of your walls
"Bark for me.." He snickered, changing up his rhythm to hit your core spot on shoving his dick in and pulling it out to his tip to repeat those long, deep strokes inside of your stomach.
Your throat only let out a low guttural growl before Jabber left a hefty hand print on your ass from smacking it in the same place over and over.
"Bark for me." This time sounding more like a command then a request and just like that a small bark left your lips followed by a mewling growl of the next orgasm settling in.
"Yeah baby…like you want it…Bark like youu…oh fuck I'm cumming baby I'm finna nu-gahhhhh damnn..!" He exclaimed, immediately pulling out to layer thick shots of his cum all over your ass in nasty heavy spurts. His hands pumped his dick coating in your mixture squeezing the remnants out of his swollen tip. Your screams were silenced by your own hands slamming over your lips once more to muffle the blow as a stream of your juices cleaned his dick off in seconds.
The both of you were dripping in sweat, breathing hard and almost as drunk as his neos outside of the room partying.
Sitting in the after glow, the coolness of Jabber's rings rubbing your ass to soothe you felt just as intoxicating as his dick, the foggy clouds settled over your mind feeling your legs tremble in place like a muscle spasm.
"FIND LIYAH!" Your mind yelled at you, the longer you stayed around in this room, the longer you would have to sit in the overpowering guilt of knowing what you just did. It was supposed to be just a few kisses! How the hell did you stumble upstairs into this office in the first place? You stumbled around the room looking around on the ground to find your buzzing purse and to quickly do something about your hair sweating out. A spare hair tie did the trick once you put your style in a quick half ass low ponytail. There no getting rid of the evidence but the main goal your body focused on was to move.
"W-where you going lil mama? Aye- easy-" You scurried out of the room before he could even finish his sentence, rushing down the dwindling staircase in your heels careful not miss a step. You made it to the bottom and began to fumble through your purse to find your phone only to look up to see your friend yelling at you from across the building with her phone to her ear.
"Y/N! Over here!
"Y/n where did you go?!" Liyah said in a worried tone.
"I went to see a man bout a dog..we gotta go.." You stammered.
Jabber emerged from the same door moments later adjusting his pants making that same journey down the steps only to find that same thong on the steps quickly picking it up and slowly hesitated before he took a deep sniff with the thong he had collected off of the floor, looking around to see if he could spot the logo of that dress, your eyes in the crowd anything. He had to at least see the girl that just took his virginity one more time but you were nowhere to be found.
One of his brothers came up to him, patting his shoulder knocking him out of his drunken train of thought.
"Yo we were looking for you! The cooler running low and one of the Neos throwing up bad in the back- " He paused looking down at Jabber's hand still holding the black thong.
"You bagged?!"
"I smashed…" Jabber joined his brother in a goofy ass mini celebration following him to the back to help out his neos while you sat in the passenger seat of your friend's car replaying the events over…and over….and over. Classes would start back tomorrow, tryouts for the CT Majorettes began the week after meaning you were about to be too busy and you would never have to see his face again let alone another Omega plot on campus.
You swore to yourself to never look back but a certain someone was just about to start his search.
I can't lie this one is a new personal favorite and I hope it becomes yours too! Who knows where this may go it all depends on you guys but you know the rules love. As Always I'll imagine with you soon until next time dolls!
“It’s always the same old shit with you..” Eren grumbled under his breath, scrolling on his phone after the fifth argument of the night.
“Don’t worry about it anymore, i’m sorry for accusing you.” You said with a straight face, letting him ‘win’ whatever point he was trying to make. All you did was ask how he was, why weren’t you answering me? Simple questions that caused the hot head to explode at you.
“Wanna look in my phone? Here look!” He said, shoving his phone in the bed, to which you threw right back towards his hip.
“That’s not even necessary, I’m cool.” You said, a laugh stuck in your throat trying to calm yourself down from yelling in his face.
“So if you don’t wanna look through my phone why are you questioning me as soon as i walk through the damn door?” Truth was he didn’t have to prove himself innocent, that cold burning feeling in your stomach when you saw how distant he’d gotten when you started taking more hours at work, complaining about how the two of you don’t spend enough time together.
“I just asked how you were at first, I thought something happened at work.” You replied, grabbing your phone from off the charger beside the bed.
The reason he was quick to show the phone this time was when you walked in on him on facetime talking to someone, the voice sounded familiar and of course you asked him who were you talking to! Going on 3 years you had every right to know but instead of him lying he blew up on you saying “You don’t pay my bill” going on a whole tangent on who pays what.
It wasn’t like you were broke, he was the type of dude to “pay for everything” but leave his wallet at home so he can treat you with dick instead. He paid the rent THIS month and felt like he was the man of YOUR apartment which irked you every time you threatened to kick him out while the two of you argued.
He hit you with “i ain’t going no where, i pay the bills blaze blahh” It was a pain in your ass and you needed a break to clear your mind on where you wanted to take things with him. You knew he was waiting for you to leave first but he had 10 days left until rent is due so until then going outside would have to suffice your nerves from being beat on by his ignorant ass.
“No nothing happened, I had to stay a bit longer because someone quit on us today so i’m sorry for not texting you..”
“Thats all I wanted to know, do you want me to order something or heat up what we had last night?”
“I can heat it up, I got to get up early in the morning baby..” He said, with a yawn in his voice. That usual sleepy time that once drove you into madness made your heart pound with anger, that prickling sensation covering your body like goosebumps.
“Okay no worries, i’m going out with Daija if that's okay? She’s having her birthday party tonight..” You asked, knowing whatever he said you were still going. Your phone cuts the awkward silence in the room with your ringtone going off like an alarm.
That ringtone.
“It’s Daija..”
“Tell her i said Happy birthday!” He yawned again, taking off his jacket so he could make his way to the bathroom to shower, he grabbed some clothes and towel before closing the bathroom door shut. With your phone in hand you quickly made your way to the kitchen to answer the unsaved number still flashing on your screen.
“Hello?”
“Heyyyy mama, i got your text what’s going on baby?”
“I was wondering what you had going on? I wanna get out of the house for the night.”
“Ahhh he ain’t put his hands on you now?”
“No..no nothing like that chill out..” You said in a hushed tone. “He yelled at me, got loud, that shit nothing crazy..can i come over?” You asked, getting straight to the point, looking back into the room to see if he was still in the shower.
“I got some people over right now but you can come through, i hadn’t seen that ass in a minute.”
“I’ve been working don’t do that..”
“And laid up with that lame ass-
“Stop it, I don’t want him in the conversation he might pop up somewhere.”
“And do what?” The voice laughs
“I’m on my way, have a drink ready for me, you know what i like.”
“You know i do..” Thé voice hummed, hanging the phone up with a click. Once you eat a little something and Eren does his little night routine you could head to the bathroom to get ready. Daija’s birthday wasn’t for another 4 months but you had to pick a friend you knew he didn’t pay attention to so he wouldn’t care if you went, if you would’ve said Liyah that would’ve had you locked in for round 6.
While you waited, you rummaged through your closet to find something loose enough to slip on but tight enough to hold someone’s attention, it had been a little while since you’ve seen your friend so you wanted to leave a good mark on their brain.
You heard the shower in the bathroom finally come to a so you picked up the red outfit on the hanger and all the accessories needed for an everything shower, you wanted to wash his scent off of you and replace it with smooth warm vanilla amber.
The bathroom door pops open and Eren emerges from the hot steam accumulated in the air, wet strands of his hair stuck to his forehead as he takes the towel from around his waist to wipe his face. It was his attempt at trying to say sorry by waving it in your face like a mutt.
“If we start now, I won’t make it in time..” You chuckled, walking past him to drop your face, rolling your eyes as you closed the door behind you.
~
“Hey baby, when you’re done in there hand me my shirt, i left it in there..” Eren called out, his headset glued to his scalp while he looked up towards the living room screen. You said ok through the thin walls of your apartment, putting on the finishes touches of your makeup, adding lipgloss to your darkly lined lips.
You grabbed his shirt from off the floor and the rest of your stuff out of the bathroom, listening to your phone buzz on the counter 5 times all coming from the same number.
“Here’s your shirt baby, i got to go..” You said, grabbing your phone and sure enough your intuition was spot on.
where u at?
don’t make me pull up to yo house
text me when u here
You responded with 3 letters saying you were on the way, grabbing your purse carrying only your lip gloss, some gum, your car keys and a wallet.
You called out to Eren again to get his shirt only to come to realize he couldn’t hear a fuck thing you were saying with his headphones on, leaving his shit on the bed to walk out into the living room.
“Woah woah, what time you’ll be back? Where’s the rest of this ensemble?”
“This is the rest of it and I should be back by 3 clubs close at 2..” You said, letting him kiss your cheek twice before leaving down your apartment stairs.
You haven't seen Jabber in almost 4 months since you started messing around with him, the thought of seeing him at his place with other people around scared you only because you didn’t know who Eren knew.
That’s what made it feel so right.
You met him out with Liyah on a girls night downtown, club hopping from one place to the next taking all the free shots you could get making it a bet on who would get the most with Liyah in the lead with 2.
“We got Persia’s next, it’s right down there.” She giggled, clicking her heels on the concrete as she walked. It was a lot of people walking up and down the street, food trucks and vendors on every corner filling up the street and people hanging around their decked out cars blasting their own music. That’s when he pulled up near the line of the club in a black dodge challenger with purple details on the side.
You watched him exit his car seeing his hand flip his dreads over his head, dapping up someone who recognized him in the street.
“You think you can get a shot out of him?”
“Outta that? Too easy, you're doubting me now?” You giggle, cutting your eyes back on the 6’2 dread head who looked like he was coming your way.
“Okay too easy, you got this then..” Liyah challenged, turning her back towards the street pretending to read the club logo.
“Excuse me, I like yo locs who did em?” You said reaching your hand out to grab his graphic white shirt. With a closer look at him, it looked like he had just got his hair done, on his neck was a silver cuban link that paired well with his thick ass watch sitting on his tatted arm.
“I did ‘em why lil mama?” He chuckled, looking at you with interest.
“I was just asking, they look good on you..” You smiled, batting your eyelashes up at the tall pink eyed man.
“Whats yo name?”
“Y/n, this my friend Liyah.” You said, tapping her on the side.
“Yo friend don’t mind me cutting the line do she?”
“If you buy us a drink..” Liyah chimed in, listening to people in the back groan in annoyance seeing Jabber and his friends cut the line. You side-eyed your friend for technically taking your point but you both laughed it off since you were both getting something out of it.
One drink turned into two, then it went to shots which lead Liyah stuck in the bathroom with Jabber’s friend getting her fill which left you alone with the hot pink eyed demon.
“Jay i-i know we having fun but I got someone i deal with an”
“Yeah, and i got a pet fish..”
“Wait what?”
“I thought we were talking about shit that don’t matter, but keep going..” He chuckled, throwing down another shot.
“Don’t be corny, i’m dead ass I ain’t trying to blow you off or nothing..just being honest.” You said, holding his hand on your thigh. The way he was squeezing on the sides of your skin made you want to take his hand under that short dress, no matter who was watching.
“He ain’t here is he? I don’t care about what you got going on, you in here with me..”
That’s how you ended up in a similar situation to Liyah’s only you two ended up in the back of the club on the wall with each others tongues down your throats, his hand cupping the bottom of your ass.
His dick felt hot to the touch as it grew with every touch you gave him, you loved feeling him grunt between your lips.
“I-i gotta go home, i gotta get Liyah home..” You mumbled, pressing against his chest to move off of him. He pulled back with a solemn look like he was trying to say he wanted you to say.
“I got your number..i’ll text you..” You said to him, wandering of into the crowd to find Liyah and make it home at a reasonable hour.
“Yeah ight..” Jabber said to himself, sucking his teeth still having his eye on you. He wasn’t expecting a text back or even to from anything after that night, neither were you since it was just a game you and Liyah played whenever you needed social attention, it wasn’t supposed to get that far with him, even the night you texted him!
You had just kicked Erne out of your apartment because you didn’t want to argue throughout the night and you needed the space. You were going to delete his number until you made the impulsive decision to text him ‘just to see if he would respond’ to which he did.
The plan was to meet up with him, smoke, and leave, you followed no scripts, no rules, nothing. You broke your guard down once you saw Jabber’s tatted arms drive around the city, the way he licked his lips while staring at yours, how the rasp in his voice forced your thighs to clench together.
No wonder you ended up with his locs smothered between your thighs in his dodge, he flashed that razor sharp tooth smile at you, telling you every thing you wanted to hear. He let you rant his ears off about Eren, telling you how weak he really was for putting you through something like that.
You found out he deals around a few people you live by and you quickly understood the lifestyle he was a part of, it explained the thick ass wad of cash and how he could relate to your situation. He wouldn’t be around all the time which was good for your predicament.
So once a month you met up with him to catch up, he’d feed you real good, rub your feet down if you needed it and let you ride along if he had any extra places he needed to go. And the nights you went were spent at his place lying in bed sucking his dick under the covers while he smoked.
Now that it had been a little over 4 months your nerves were tighter than the thong submerged between your ass cheeks. You hadn’t been in his backyard in so long you almost pulled up in the front! Turning your car around you pulled in the back way of his house, texting him that you were here.
**
The sound of a screen door snaps your attention away from your phone, you look at the back door to see Jabber walk out of the house in a fitted black tank top and some grey sweats which he held with one of his hands as he walked around the front of your car to the driver seat window.
His hair had grown out from the last retwist you saw him in letting his hair hang low in front of his face. Lowering your window the dread head pushed his locs out of his face to lower his head down, flashing a shiny new piece of material in his mouth.
A silver diamond encrusted grill in the shape of fangs.
“Wassup mama, hadn’t seen you in a minute..” He smiled, another sharp flash of those fucking fangs.
“I know and i’m sorry, you know I work and I’ve been dealing with Eren’s shit again..”
“Keep talking about that nigga and I’m coming home with you to see about his ass..” Jabber scoffs, opening your car door to let you out, hearing the muted music playing from the inside of the house.
“Shut the hell up Jay, if i can’t talk about him you can’t threaten him, where’s my drink at?” You said, trying to change the subject immediately.
“In the fridge waiting for you but let me see you..” Jabber smirked, pulling you in for a deep hug, his cologne a smoky burned vanilla like scent mixed in the weed. He rubbed the sides of your waist lowering them to your ass, giving you a good squeeze.
“Mmm.. I missed you too.”You muttered into his chest. “You just suck at texting somebody back..” You shot back, playfully hitting chest causing him to grab your wrist to pull you back into him, a playful smirk written on his face.
“Get inside girl so you can drink yo little drink, I can roll something for us in the room if it’s too much, all on you baby..”
“You know how i like it.” You looked at him, rubbing your glossed lips at him, walking up the steps to get into his house, feeling a light smack on your ass.
You waved to the people you knew and watched Jabber talk to a few folks before making it to his bedroom.He went to grab your drink from the fridge while you looked around to see what had changed since the last time you came.
New shoes still in the boxes were stacked up in the corner next to the closet full of clothes still with the tags on em and his jewelry dresser he did not play about.
“Here ma..” Jabber said coming back with a bag full of weed in one hand and your drink in the other, closing the door behind him as the muffled music continued to be heard outside.
He put the stuff down and you wasted no time grabbing him by the sides of his face, to kiss his plump lips holding the silver fangs that you’ve been staring at the entire time. He matched your energy by pulling your hips closer to his, sliding his tongue into your mouth biting your lip with the grill.
“When did you get this?” You questioned, pulling away from the kiss to tug at his bottom lip.
“That’s what got you grabbing at me like that?” He smiles, using his now known new power against that pulsing spot between your thighs.
“I wish all these people weren’t here, i need that Jay..”
“Them people in there don’t fucking matter, you know they don’t, take them panties off so i can fix that lil problem you got ..” Jabber hums, a sinful expression painted on his face as he watched you hop back on his bed, lifting your legs up to take off the thong hiding between those juicy lips.
“Come fix it..” You teased, opening your legs to spread your slick folds wide with your fingers, licking the excess of your fingers to go back in for another feel.
The dread headed man crawls onto the bed towards you holding his hair back to get a taste of the sweet juices you were making just for him. You rubbed your clit while he stuck his tongue in that preheated cunt lick up to help your fingers.
“It’s like that?” He asks, lifting his head up to show his cum covered lips and the grill still in his mouth.
“Ja-Jay..”
“Keep playing with that pussy in my face..” He moaned, sliding his tongue over your clit while you continued to rub circles, keeping your eyes locked on his silver mouth. You had to help him out by wrapping his hair in a ponytail with a hair band you had on your wrist.
“Eat that pussy like it’s yours..” You groaned, rocking your hips into his mouth, listening to him moan on your clit.
“Like I been doing?” He said with a mouth full, sucking on the swollen spot, sneaking two fingers inside while he continued swirling his fat tongue around your soaked pussy.
“Just like you been doing Jay..fuck..” You grunted, moving your hips faster to keep up with his fingers, sneaking that first orgasm out of your body like it belonged to him.
“Oh shitt!” You cried to him as he sucked harder, wanting the next one to follow right after.
“That fucking easy?” He laughed, taking his lips off of you, pumping his fingers on that puffy spot, looking up with a smile.
“It ain’t even been that long and I still know my way around..”
“Put that shit in my mouth..” You huffed, trying to keep from cumming again to prove that bastards point.
“Oh yeah? Here you go, keep talking shit and see where it gets you..” Jabber grins, pulling his thick length out of his sweats rubbing himself off in front of you.
“Eren thought he knew what he was doing too..” You scoffed, leaning forward towards the edge of the bed, getting ready to grab his dick only to receive hard smack against your ass. If the music wasn’t as loud as it was someone would have heard the two of you making up for lost time.
“What’s the word mama?” He asked firmly, yanking your chin up to look at his searing hot gaze.
“Green Daddy..” You beamed, receiving another hard smack on your cheek, feeling Jabber grab a hold of your neck holding his sticky pre-cum covered tip into your mouth, starting at a slow pace to get you back to his shape instead of Erens.
“You’n know how to take me down that throat no more ma?” Jabber smiled, stopping his throats to let you work on his dick. You put one of your hands on his length, swirling your wrist up and down keeping your with your throat, holding his tip all the way to your uvula.
“God damn! That’s what’s i’m talking about, that fucking mouth..” Jabber groans out, pushing your head further and faster, lifting up his tank top to avoid all the spit you were spilling out of your face.
You coughed, gagged and slobbered all on his fat dick, slapping it on your lips and tongue looking up at him with a messy face.
“I love when you get into that shit baby, eat that dick up just like that..that’s what you be giving him?” Jabber pants, sliding out of your mouth to lift you up by your hair which fell out of its original style. There was no way in hell you could go home in the condition he was about to put you in.
“Face in them fucking sheets since you scare someone gon hear you..” He said, flipping you around like you’re weighed nothing to him, arching your face into his sheets and that ass in the air just how like it.
You shook your ass in his face, taking your hands to spread yourself for him, playing with your sopping wet cunt. You loved listening to the noises you both made, touching yourselves to the sight of one another.
While you laid there waiting for him to stick it in, you felt hard leather go across your cheeks, then another one shortly after.
“Shit! Jay!” You whined to him, throwing one of your hands back to stop his swings, but that just made him grab a hold of your wrist, laying another smack on your ass with one of his belts.
“Nah this what you wanted right? You wanted somebody to beat this pussy the way you want huh? He can’t do you like I can baby..”
He lays another heavy smack with the belt taking that same breath to slide himself past those soaking lips and deep inside of your slippery walls mixing the pleasure into your mind causing your eyes to cross. He was always this rough with you and it was exactly what you needed to turn your brain off and into a pile of ecstasy.
“No baby..he can’t..oh he can’t fuck!” You whimpered, throwing your hips back against his already calculated strokes.
“Come on..uh un keep talking that shit i like.” Jabber grunts, laying another smack to your ass with the leather.
“Fuck!” You screamed, your walls tightening around his cock, sucking him down as you came, trembling in his grasp. “Show me how he supposed to fuck me Jabber..What’s he doing wrong?”
“I know what he ain’t doing baby..” Jabber smirks, pulling out of you to squat down on his knees, putting his face deep into your filthy mess licking up and down from your pussy to lick that other pretty hole above her just to plunge himself back into your cunt, slipping his thumb inside of that tight hole.
“Such a nasty ass nigga..” You moaned, biting your lip while you kept pushing your ass back on him, looking back to see he had his shirt off and he still kept that messy ass ponytail you had him earlier.
“I’m nasty mama? Imma nasty what?” He cooed, slowing his strokes down to talk his shit.
“Who you gonn keep running back too? Who gon do you like me?” He went on, slipping his thumb out to grip the sides of your hips reaching down to grab your neck to pull you back.
“Nobody gon fuck me like this Jay..” You cried out, throwing your arm back to pull him closer to your ears and neck,
“No fucking body you understand me?” He whispered into your ear, holding your tits spilling out of the top you wore, pinching and rolling your nipples while he continued to thrust from behind.
“Nobody!!” You screamed out, letting your muscles contract squirting out your sweet juices onto his sheets, making Jabber slip out his still hard dick and rub your clit with his tip purposely making you more sensitive.
“You feel that baby?” Jabber that’s, laying a few slaps on your clit as you gave him a satisfied expression on your face, your body trembling and all.
“I love it when you play with my pussy..” You confessed, flipping over on your back.
“Yeah you love when Daddy get you right huh?”
“I love when you get me right.” You whined, watching his fuchsia eyes scan your body before putting his lips back on yours letting you pull on his hair or whatever you could to get as deep into his skin as you could.
You throw your body weight against him to put yourself on top, taking your hand between your legs to drag his dick back into where it belonged while lazily kissing him all in the mouth, licking and sucking his tongue while he softly bounced you on his length. You grabbed the headboard for support so you could switch from a laying position to sit fully on his dick, squeezing your cunt on him while using your tippy toes to stay on it.
“Ain’t no way you showing out like this for me..” Jabber moaned with a smile, slapping your ass every time you bounced, leaving his hand mark on one of your cheeks.
“Hold my hips baby, get that nut for me Daddy..” You hummed to him, grinding your hips faster feeling your knees burn but you pushed on, letting that sensation form right in the center of your stomach.
The way he threw his head back in pure pleasure forcing you down on his thick, pulsating dick hard enough to leave bruises on your sides.
“Cum in yo pussy Jabber..” You moaned to him, putting your arms around his neck, squeezing your walls tight to suck out all of his sweet white shots, listening to Jabber moan out broken versions of your name, still thrusting what he had left deeper into you.
“Uh un don’t run from this dick..” Jabber growled, flipping the both of you over into your back, restarting the abuse in your gspot. He spread open those pretty legs and gripped on your hips with all his might, rubbing that sensitive nub once more to drive you insane.
He saw you take your hand towards his chest, pushing him off a bit, whining at how it was too much
“Don’t run from this dick Y/n! You can’t run back to him.. you gon feel this..” Jabber growled, putting your hands above your head with one of his hands while the other smoothly wrapped around your throat squeezing tighter with each stroke.
The crazed pink eyed devil laughed as he thrusted into you, throwing your leg over his shoulder to stroke his hips at a better angle, releasing your throat just at the right second to let you breathe.
He lays a few love taps across your face to keep you in this moment. The heroin like effect made your mind loopy, and the only thing in your eyes was him.
“You got one more in you baby girl, one more..” He huffed, picking up his speed while you babbled nonsense to yourself feeling so full of him.
“Gonna cum- cum for you daddy..” You managed to get out, rubbing yourself with your pretty acrylics till Jabber pulled out of heat, cumming all over your stomach and chest , watching the dread head stain his knuckles squeezing out every last bit.
You laid on your back, eyes going in and out of focus as the soft veil of the after glow covered you in sweet bliss.
“If you needed it that bad I would’ve gotten that ass in the car..” Jabber laughs, coming in to lay down on top of you, pushing your now fucked up hairstyle out of your face.
“So all them people could see us outside?” You said, giggling to yourself while you rubbed the side of his face, pushing a loc out of the way.
BANG BANG BANG
“Fuck me Jabber…Ohhhh take that dick..” a voice on the other side mocked.
“I think they hear us already..
—————————————————————————
Just the start of Plug! Jabber's debut🙂 enjoy your stay in the playhouse doll.
Welcome back, i heard somebody wanted a part 2? Jabbers here baby
Cw! Throatfucking, sex toys, overstimulation, mentions of breeding, whimpering Jabber, mentions of spit, mating press, Southerncoded!Jabber he’s talking shit again😫
“You got your nut Jabber, don’t start these games with me.” You replied, rolling your eyes as you laid across your couch, still in a bit of pain after not having your shit beat in for almost 6 months. It wander enough time to forget what buttons to press on his mind to get exactly what you’ve been craving.
“I didnt feel nothing new Jay, get your shit and go.” You spoke from the hallway, pushing your bed door open. It fell eerily silent in your house to where the sounds of you fiddling in your drawer were strangely loud, clanking to find your rose and 8 inch replacement expecting Jabber to pick his pants off the ground and dip out.
The usual was he came over. “apologized” and you’d be back in his phone again begging him to come see you. It was tiring and you were over being played with, if he wanted to be fuck buddies that’s all he had to say.
“You really think I’m done witchu?”Jabber coos, walking directly into your room, leaning against the doorway.
“Why you still here?”
“Why aren’t you ready? Go ahead, turn it on.” He smiles, walking towards your end of the bed. The tall dread head took the his fists to crawl onto the bed, letting his locs fall over his glowing pink eyes. You despised how easy he could create that burning feeling in your core. You hate breathing in his scent and causing vivid flashbacks at work. He was engraved in your mind and you want him to to leave his name inside of you next.
“Jabber move..” You warned, snatching the rose out of his direction but his soft hands pulled it right into his grasp.
“I got to prove a point to yo stubborn ass..” He grumbles, pushing you flat against your bed, slapping your thighs to get you to leave them open, even if you didn’t he left his silver ringed hand clamped down stuck so he could place that pink toy against your clit turning it to the highest setting.
“Fffffuckkkk!” You cried out to him, making shapes into his wrists with your nails, he moved the toy in a slow circle purposely letting it vibrate all over instead of one singular spot.
“Oh you sound so fucking good when you not lying no more ma..” Jabber smiles sinfully, using his other hand to lube himself with your slick. “Talking about you ain’t feel shit, you know what the fuck I do to this body..” He growls, popping the toy off of your puffy clit.
“Here since we both need more practice..” He huffed, taking the 8 inch toy to tease your soaked cunt. Jabber coats the tip in your juices by softly sliding it in, only to take it out and tap on your lips, chuckling at the sight of you sticking out your tongue swirling it around to taste yourself.
“My dirty lil bitch needs a reminder?” He grinned, hovering his lips over that swollen nub, gliding his tongue in slow circles to draw out those pretty groans from the back of your throat. They were muffled by him shoving the toy back and forth, collecting spit strands at the sides of your mouth.
He watch you in awe while he stroked his dick to you gagging and choking all over it, he pulled some it out to tap it against your tongue and you kissed the tip like it was actually him filling your mouth.
“You think you can handle the real thing? Since what i gave you in the living room wasnt enough?” Jabber asks, sliding the toy out of your mouth sharing a stream of saliva.
“C’mere mama, is this all you wanted? To be treated like a rag doll? To be treated like my rag doll??” He continued, snatching you up by the back of your hair, impaling your throat right back on to something a bit bigger than your toy. You moaned for more of his salty taste, grabbing a hold of his warm shaft to stoke upwards while your tongue worked his tip.
Jabbers mouth dropped at the feeling of your mouth bobbing up and down his pretty two toned dick, leaning his head back in euphoria. The harder you squeezed your hand around his throbbing length the harder he got in your mouth.
You used the other hand to dig your nails into his thigh, earning crazed moans to flood your ears, letting his words pour out, signaling he was close again.
“Look at this fucking mess you making baby girl-fuck! Just like that—yeahhhh” His eyes flutter from the spit bubbles escaping your throat once he pulled out of your mouth. Still with one hand gripping your hair tight he takes his other to hold his cock against your lips, tapping and teasing his sensitive, red puffy tip edging himself once more.
“I can’t..ouuuu fuck not yet mama. You don’t deserve me cumming down that filthy throat just yet.” He laughs, flipping you over onto your back. You laid upside down in between his legs watching his dick drop spit onto your face, whining in anticipation. The pink eyed devil knew you were antsy, he held back on you in the living room and you knew it, if he wanted to get back into your good graces he had to step it up.
Jabber grabs the 8 inch dildo off of the bed to lean down in between your newly black and blue thighs, he uses the spit off of his dick to cover it as much as he could right before carefully plunging the toy inside of your pulsing heat.
“Jabber!” You cried out, bucking your hips up to try and gain a faster pace.
“Oh i gotta hear that again..” He grins, holding his dick with one hand right above your face and the other pumping a dildo inside of you that couldn’t compete with what you just had, but with his pressure behind every stroke, you couldn’t keep your mind together enough to give a fuck. That was until the pressure in your stomach disappeared and was replaced by a powerful vibration on your clit returning again.
He chuckles to himself watching your body roll around searching for any type of affection, any type of friction to get that lingering feeling in the pit of your stomach to wash over, but he wasn’t afraid to push your buttons just as much as you were.
“Jabber, please..” You panted, lifting your hips up to chase his movements with the rose.
“You don’t need me to cum anymore baby, act as if i’m not even here..” He taunted, giving you the dildo while he kept his hand and rose deep onto your clit. Whether this was a set up for disaster or his cold psychotic heart had soften up for you to get an orgasm, no matter the circumstances you took that first opportunity and slid the toy inside of you smoothly to pump inside while he drove you crazy with the other.
“Oh fuck…” You groaned, picking up your pace while he switched to the highest setting, cussing your thighs to tremble and his dick to twitch in response. He quickly shuts the vibration off once he saw your eyes roll to the back of your skull, slipping his dick back inside of your mouth, still open from you whining in frustration.
“I didnt tell you- to stop..” He breathed, pumping himself inside of your throat while you fucked your self stupid with your own toy. It felt like it was two of him in the room with you and that thought drove that glass ball in your stomach insane. Two Jabbers having their fair way with you while you taunt them both into abusing your walls to the point you HAVE to call out of work.
The only sounds that could be heard were the slick and sticky mess between your thighs and your voice gargling under how thick Jabber was.
“Don’t get too excited on me..” He coos to you, replacing your hand with his on the toy, slowing down to strokes. He watched yiu go from a steady pace to something that look unhuman which he took in his mind that you were close. He wanted your brain to be under his control, to be turned into a mush only he could fix and he wasn’t too far off from his goal. After all this teasing you still hadn’t finished anything, he was edging you into a deep, slow madness and you werent happy to play along in his games anymore.
“Jabber please! Make me cum please!! I can’t-“
“You can’t what? Come on you can speak..” He mocked you, following your body movements as you turned upright to lean against your brown headboard of the bed. Your soaked cunt was swollen from your lips all the way to that sensitive nub that’s been tormented with his tongue and the rose.
“Make me fucking cum, please Jabber! Please make me cum! I need you! I need that shit..” You whined, rubbing your folds in front of him with your eyes glossy and low, pulling your lip in with your bottom teeth out of desperation. Anything you were willing take anything he would give.
“You what?”
“I need that shit! FUCK ME!” You growled at him, yanking him by a couple of locs surrounding his face. He grunts from your sudden movements, slamming his lips back into yours all while living his dick back over your quivering cunt, forcing his way back inside of his happy place. The both of you groan out in ecstasy as you watched his disappear over and over again, scratching that urge in your brain.
“You always wanna run that fucking mouth..” Jabber curses, grabbing one of your legs to throw over his shoulder to get a deeper angle, picking up his pace. “What you feeling now y/n? Huh? You wanna start thinking of some names pretty girl?”
The thought of Jabber giving you a baby made you clench down hard, he couldn’t be talking like this! Especially when you were ovulating!
“Oh you like that? You want me to breed this pretty pussy? You want me to show you how much i fucking missed you?” He growled, gripping a piece out of your headboard from how hard he held onto it. Every bounce felt like stars flashed inside of your head, his locs covered the both of you like a curtain to shield you from the outside and it was only you and him in this moment.
“Yes, yes, yes Fuck!” You cried out, not giving a fuck if the neighbors knew you two were back together.
“Imma give it to you baby girl..” Jabber moaned, leaning down to suck on your tongue you had dangling out of your mouth like a fucked out animal, curling his hips to hit that special spot hidden inside of you. He took your other leg to fold them towards your chest, cupping his arms under your knees to put you into the perfect mating press.
He was being serious.
“J-jabber I-“
“Nah you this what you wanted right? Me to prove how bad I want you back. Don’t run me ma, I ain’t going nowhere no time soon baby..we got things to plan..” He chuckled, piercing himself through your silk walls again.
“Jabberrr!!”
“Fuck I love hearing you scream my fucking name..” He cries out, feeling your cunt flutter around his tip, he was at the door of your cervix ready to enter without warning. Ya’ll both knew you were on the pill and you always kept another plan on you just in case, you love the thought of being baby trapped…only thé thought. It was something so feral hearing Jabber talk about turning you into his pretty little breeding toy, it was even better when he was on the milking table.
“Cum so deep in me Jay, i’m done talking i promise!” You babbled, the only thing on your mind was trying to cum without him stopping or slowing down his sex crazed thrusts. You were on your last limb!
“You done running your fucking mouth? You done running away from this dick? Huh?” He huffs, picking up his pace again this time he was relentless, grunting at every stroke, laughing as you drug your nails across his back, painting it like a mad man, you could almost replace Picasso. If left his name inside of you, then his back was all yours to claim.
“Harder..” He laughs, whimpering from the stinging sensation burning into his back.
“More..more..MORE!” He pants, pumping into you sporadically like a maniac. Your screams fueled him to the point where he rips another part of your headboard from holding onto it too hard. The force of his strokes made the bedframe creak once then a loud slam could be heard following after but he didn’t stop. Ropes of his cum surrounded your insides but he continued to abuse your walls, you were stuck under his weight and couldn’t move even if you wanted too. He was going again.
“JABBERRR!!” You scream as your orgasm finally came crashing down, it sounded like glass breaking and shards bouncing all over the floor. Your body trembled underneath him and the only thing you could do was take him and start the process all over again.
“Overstimulate with me..” The crazed pink eye man cried out to you, whimpering near your ear as he continued drilling inside of your now milky white pussy.
“Oh god y/n you feel so god damn good.. i’m so fucking sorry..” He went on, filling your stomach up again with a second load, seeping onto the bed.
“I’m sorry baby..” You panted, holding onto neck as he moaned into your ears, his pretty whimpers sent shocks to your clit while the happy trail on his stomach grazed it slightly. Another wave crashed over you as you squirted all over his dick just like you wanted, but Jabber still had more to give.
“I can’t stop, I can’t- i don’t want too!” Jabber whimpers, releasing his last load that he could into your womb, wincing from how sensitive he was from edging himself. The both of you sat in the after glow, holding onto each other, rubbing each other down and listening to the both of you pant. After something like that you wouldn’t be surprised if he passed out, but he didn’t. He watched you softly fall into a deep slumber, and that’s where the real work began.
Jabber hopped off the bed and went straight into the bathroom to grab towels and rag to clean up the bed and to wipe you down. This was the part where he was supposed to grab his shit and leave to go back to the shadows, but tonight he had different morals. The way your body looked in the cool light of the moon shining through your window, had him thinking with a slight change of heart.
He cleaned you off and then himself in your shower. Jabber looks towards your bedroom door, fixing to step out but paused, looking back at you softly snoring in the bed. What was so difficult? He knew once you woke up in the morning and see that he was gone the cycle would repeat, it was something about the way your voice coated his ears when you were crying to him. Telling him that it was his.
“Mmcht..” He sucks his teeth, taking his shirt right back off to hop in the bed next to you.
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!Cw! Manhandling, choking, shit talking, spanking, fighting for dominance, mentions of spit, forced to be quiet, riding, backshots, bruising, jabber is crazy and I like it.
He always found a clever way to inch himself under your skin, if he wasn't running his mouth, he was finding more physical ways to get a reaction out of you. At first you ignored his antics, ignored his presence as best as you could and his unwavering smug smile that would haunt your filthy dreams at night, you felt like you had the upper hand. Watching his face drop whenever his words didn't pierce you like it did the others, only the people that could "handle" their own could even be considered worthy in his eyes.
That was until he realized what you were doing and it only added more fuel to his fire, it was like he smelled the true anger burning in your sweet, warm amber scent, he couldn't get the thought of you crumbling down to his feet begging for mercy out of his mind. He was determined to have you as his next challenge, he saw you merely as another wall to demolish down, and that's exactly what you wanted.
"Aye, you hear me talking to you!" Jabber spoke up, watching you walk past him once again, ignoring his ignorant rambles. He stood by the light post near your house wearing an oversized grey jacket with a black tank top underneath
"Where do you get off stalking me?"
"Stop with the meek frail shit, you're starting to piss me off." He walks closer, rolling his eyes.
"Is there something you need from me, Jabber?" You leaned forward. "You don't wanna cause a scene in front of my neighbors? Getting bitched out by a girl ain't a good look.."
"You think I give a fuck about a look?"
"It's obvious you do, you keep barking at me to look at you."
Jabber laughs while fiddling with his rings on his fingers, licking his lips as he analyzed your eyes and then your lips.
"You miss this dick don't you?"
"Fuck you Jabber, I'm not going through this shit with you again, I got to get ho-"
"If you didn't miss the way I bullied that pussy you wouldn’t be touching yourself to our old messages would you? Don’t worry ma, he still throbbing for you." He snickers, his eyes widening as he towered over you.
It had been 6 months since you and him cut it off for good and when you mean the both of you, it meant cutting him off completely while he lost his shit trying to contact you through every possible way to communicate. This nigga sent you letters, emails from different accounts, called your house phone, your mamas house, and even showed up to your job. He took a step further by watching you walk home which put you in this predicament today.
It pissed you off that he was partially correct, it pained you that you were turned on by the fact that he had you every move memorized and if you took three steps ahead he'd already be there. You knew how particular he was and just how psychotic he could get and now he was about to show how much he changed.
You weren't afraid of him, no matter how many times people warned you about his character, warned you about his fits, your heart felt molded to love him. It wasn't about holding your own with him, the both of you had a high level of respect for each other but in this moment it was all out of the window. You couldn't hide it any longer.
"You got so much fucking mouth when I'm all in your face but when that dick kisses the back of my throat you whimper like a bitch.."
"There she is, keep talking.." Jabber smiled widely, backing towards your house, he was setting you up in the most twisted way and like a moth to flame you followed but with your own intentions.
"I don't do much talking Jabber.."
"Not when your mouth is full..I know how much you wanna pull it out, it makes me harder knowing you're fighting that urge.." He taunts, grabbing at the tent of his pants.
Your jaw clenched at his stupidly cute taunts like he was dumb video game character, you hated how hard he tried to get a geniune smile out of you when all you felt when you looked at him in this moment was rage, pure passionate thigh clenching rage.
What you two had was unstoppable and he ruined it all because he "needed to work on himself" that was bullshit! He wanted to start summer off single and flock to the nearest bitch with an ego complex, you were tired of his shit and yet you found yourself back into his web, you could pull yourself out just like the last time.
It doesn't matter if he was standing in your living room, peering down to look at you with his big hot fuchsia pink eyes, he was trying to corner you but you had enough of his stupid tactics. You needed to get it out of your system, you needed to get him out of your system.
"I'm sick of this shit." You muttered, grabbing a handful of his thick locs, forcing his lips to to lock onto with yours. He chuckles in between your lips, biting down hard enough to pierce through your skin as you moaned in his mouth, sharing the copper tasting liquid.
He pushes you off against the wall with a hard slam, the tent in his pants grazing your leg as he inches back in to close the gap between the two of you. That's how all of your sessions ended up, you starting off strong taking the upper hand and having him play into your hands only for him to scoop you up and pummel you into the ground like a sex crazed lunatic. He made you feel like you could burn his brain into putty and turn him into a cum-trained slut only to flip the script on you, but tonight was the final straw.
"This is all I've been waiting for.." He trailed off, gripping both of your hands together tightly with one big slender hand, tilting his head like he was playing with his food before he devoured you in one bite.
"For you to give into those urges you've been fighting off huh? Doesn't it drive you insane that after all this time, that pussy still clenches to my shape, I bet it still remembers the way my tongue feels, your weak ass toys can't compare to what Jabber can do.." He whispered, letting his lips outline the crest of your ears. You jerked your clasped hands once causing his to snicker, then twice and repeating that motion watching his reaction to you trying to escape.
"That's it baby, you almost got it. Try kicking at me..fuck you got me hard!" He laughed, dropped the hold on your arms catching you by the throat. With your hand free you held them together shoving them down on his hand, loosening his grip enough to kick him off of you. A sadistic smile grew on your face as the nonchalant role you wanted to play so bad fell, you miss this rush of dopamine clouding your thoughts like a fresh hit of heroin, the adrenaline of hearing his voice curse your name when the two of you got into and the best part.
Making up after a bad fight.
He fell back, growling with excitement keeping a close eye on you walking towards him. Your pants couldn't keep back the lust dripping out of them, he could probably smell how slick your thighs had become and it riled you up even more.
"Atta girl, Up here ma, right here on my face." He giggled with excitement, palming himself in his sweats. "Show me how much you miss me, I want another bruise 'round my neck like last time." He beamed, squeezing his fingers in a come here motion.
"No you come here.." You spat, yanking him up off the living room floor by his locs. He sucks in air from how hard you pulled, glaring up at you pulling down your pants to shove his face in the middle of the dripping mess you'd made.
His eyes never left yours while his tongue drug irritatingly slow strokes back on forth, no matter how hard you shoved his face deeper he kept lapping at the slow pace and his eyes pierced your body like a hot needle going straight for your stomach. They were lazily gazing up with look that meant 'more'"
“More? You want more? Just won't..stopp..fucking..callingg..mee.." You groaned, softening your grip on his hair, using your hips to continue grinding on his warm tongue.
He moaned in response, each time with more passion than the last. He took both of his hands to palm your thick, plump ass, digging his nails so deep that your skin folded over his fingers, it was like he wanted to give you flashbacks.
“More..mhhng..come on mama fuck my face like you mean that shit.” He said muffled under your soaked cunt. He slobbered and sucked on your clit by wrapping his lips around it lazily, sliding his face up and down not giving a fuck about the mess on his chin.
It dribbled down past his neck all the way down to his tank top and he drug a free hand to his neck to collect your slick mess using it to lubricate himself. He couldn’t contain the zaps and stings of pain from the yanking and tugging of his hair, it sent shots of adrenaline straight to his dick.
The nasty squelching of him stroking himself and devouring your dripping mess sent your eyes rolling to the back of your skull, you bucked your hips deep into his mouth, feeling his tongue curl up to hit that spot.
“If i cum in your mouth you gon stop talking shit?” You growled, squeezing your thighs tight around his skull, feeling his tongue curl up inside of you pushing you closer to the edge.
The pressure from his head being smushed together caused him to moan hysterically with a couple laughs mixed as he shot thick ,pretty white ropes all over his knuckles, staining his light happy trail. He groaned into your pussy while still playing with his tip so he could overstimulate himself.
His filthy moans vibrated right against that swollen clit making your legs tense up, cumming all in his mouth. He made sure to swallow as much as he could before pulling off with a slight ‘pop’ sound. Your head was in such a daze that you lost some of the grip on some of his locs giving him a chance to lean up on the bottom of the couch. You looked down to meet his gaze and still he had that same sadistic smile plastered on his face.
“You got more in you I know you fucking do! You meant what you said right?” He panted, reaching up to grab you at the sides of your waist plunging you down on his thick shaft and just like he said you adjusted to his shape like a missing puzzle piece. He didn’t need to move around to find the spot, he didn’t have to ease his way past your cervix, he went inside like he lived there.
You took this opportunity to wrap your arms around his neck to arch your back, moving your hips up and down to match what felt like calculated strokes, like he knew how many it strokes it takes to make you cum and he wanted to beat his record every time. His girth bruised your walls with every thrust he gave you, fluttering your eyes while you screamed his name.
“I… can’t fucking..ooh Jabber I can’t fucking stand you..” You cried out, holding on to the edge of the couch, throwing your hips around just the way liked it. he couldn’t help but to reclaim his filthy lil bitch by spanking you every time you came down on him.
“You gon get that nut outta me mama? Don’t fucking stop..” He lays another hard smack on your ass.
“I ain’t gon fucking stop Daddy, cum in yo pussy..” You beamed, biting your lips while you held onto his head all until your legs gave out. He bear hugged you by wrapping his arms around your waist, drilling you from underneath. As much as you wanted to scream his name to the top of your lungs, you and him both knew the neighbors weren’t too far away from banging on your walls to get you to shut the hell up, but the voyeristic bastard wanted them to hear, he wanted to put on a show.
You tried to stop yourself from screaming by chomping down on his shoulder, wrapping your legs around him as hard as you could, letting your filthy juices mix is with his precum pouring out of you. H e could feel your walls throbbing against his tip, pulsating that feeling in the way to his stomach dragging up his spine to reach his brain. It was only right to claim you back.
Jabber picks you up off of his cock letting his eyes be mesmerized by the sweet nectar leaking from the both of you. He was far too gone to be stopped now, you knew exactly what you signed up for and you were loving every second of him tossing and handling you around like a rag doll. He made you bend over the couch with your hands stuck to the wall purposely facing where the neighbors were exactly next door.
He gave no warning when he split you right back open in the middle, sucking his teeth at how you were still so fucking tight. You gripped him like a vice at the same time fitting smooth a slick glove, it drove him crazy. One of his hands made it over your mouth, muffling you as he started to pound into your stomach, each stroke blurring your vision.
“Mhmmmm! Keeppp fuckinggg meee..” You cried out, slipping one hand off of the wall losing your balance.
“Nah do what the fuck you said you was gonna do!” He growled, forcing your face deep into the cushions, he grabbed both of your hands pulling you back, forcing you to take every inch of him. Tears formed in the corners of your eyes but you couldn’t fake the smile that was written all over. The warm spot of euphoria he kept puncturing over and over again, how he fucked you like he hated your guts but every chance he got he disappeared in them.
“You ain’t shit Jabber! FUCK! I hate you!” You screamed.
“I hate you too mama, I. Hate. You. Baddddd..” He moaned, slowing down the strokes, dragging his shaft back and forth against your walls.
“I hate this dick Daddy, I hate this shit..” You repeated, pushing your hips back against him. He eased up on your arms letting you and your body slowly take back the wheel. You slowed your movements down and the both of you listened to the sloppy noises you and him were making, you..missed him.
“Sshit, just like that baby. Who dick is this? Hm? I love you too mama..” He teased, trailing kisses up and down your spine, picking up the pace.
“This my dick..” You moaned, moving your hips a bit faster than him. He watched as your ass bounced on him, throwing more spanks across your already burning hot skin, you were decorated in black and red welts from his rings.
“Yeah? This yo dick? Hmm? Come on baby girl..give it to me..” He cooed, guiding you faster on his tip, you could feel him twitching inside of you before a small flutter in your stomach grew. The grip on your hips tighten as Jabber went deeper inside of you, bottoming out to reach the tip of your cervix.
“It’s all yours Jabber, show me who you are hmm? You think you’re the strongest? Can you tire me out.?” You taunted, moaning in between words while he pumped harder into you, digging his nails deep into your sides. He was like a filthy animal rutting into something in the wild and you were his bitch in heat.
“I love when you talk like that..” He whined, thrusting into you frantically before releasing more stripes of cum nestling deep inside of your womb, you felt your stomach swell in size and the dopamine of being filled to brim settle in. You came right after he pulled out and he watched, using his tip to rub your clit to pull more out of you.
You looked back at him and then down to his still rock hard cock, his eyes were still open wide and that smug ass smile was still there. Round 3 was imminent.
“Mmcht, don’t tell me you tapping out, I haven’t got to apologize yet..”
“So what did you just give me then?”
“Had to show you who Jabber was baby..You know who it is..”
I hope you guys like this little one shot I wrote out of nowhere, they will be more, I cannot get this mf out of my head! Lemme know how you like!!
Synopsis: Your childhood friend has called you Princess all your life. One drunk night. One game of trivia. Now he calls you his---but that means something entirely different when spoken in front of your families.
Tags: dirty talk, bigdick Enjin, reader and Enjin are down bad, half plot/half smut, manhandling, fingering, sex while drunk, swearing, modern/ college au, fratEnjin, fem!reader, pet names, oral (m receiving).
Author note: We could consider this a follow up to Trivia Princess. I have a bad habit of writing for Enjin and then suddenly I'm looking at a 40k word document, but I just couldn't edit that whole thing, and I really wanted to get this out.
not proofread
“Jin, you’re not listening, and I think it’s on purpose. Stop being obtuse,” you grumble, aggressively walking into your parents’ house with him hot on your heels. There is a glint in his eyes and a blank stare on his face, his hands completely full with both of your bags.
“Y/n, I’m trying to be nice because it’s the holidays, but strike one is exactly one more smartass comment away,” he states in a matter-of-fact tone.
“How y’all gonna come into somebody else's house arguing?” your mom calls out.
The heavy thud of the front door closing behind you is immediately swallowed by the soulful grit of Mary J. Blige vibrating through the hallway. The air in your childhood home is thick—a humid, savory fog of slow-simmering greens, toasted pecans, and the sharp bite of vinegar that signals the start of the Wednesday prep.
“We aren’t arguing, Mama L,” Jin calls out, his voice instantly smoothing into that respectful, practiced charm he’s used on your mother for years.
He doesn’t drop the bags immediately. Instead, he follows you into the heart of the house, his presence taking up twice as much space in the narrow hallway as yours does. He waits until you've reached the entryway of the kitchen before he finally lets your luggage hit the floor with a dull, synchronized clack.
Before you can snap back about his “strike one” comment, he’s already moving. He sidesteps the bags and pulls your mother into a deep, genuine hug, lifting her slightly off her feet with a low chuckle.
“You know she likes to pick fights when she’s tired,” he murmurs into her hair, casting a sharp, golden side-eye in your direction that tells you the “smartass” tally is still running. “I’m just the designated punching bag for the weekend.”
“Is that right?” your mom asks, pulling back to swat at his arm before turning her narrow, knowing gaze on you. “Well, I don’t have time for the dramatics. I’m already stressed that I’m about to have all these people runnin’ in and out my house all weekend, so get it together.” She gives both of you a pointed look.
You snort. “He freaking started it, Mama.”
She tsks. “I don’t care if one of the twelve disciples started it, be sure to end it by the time you come down from putting your bags away.”
Jin’s expression doesn't flicker at your side comment, but his hand finds the small of your back—a heavy, grounding weight that acts as a reminder of his warning. “Where’s my folks? And Mr. L?”
“Out on the patio,” Mama L says, gesturing toward the back of the house with a wooden spoon. “They’re trying to convince your daddy that he doesn’t need to deep-fry a second turkey, but you know how they get once they start on that bourbon.”
Enjin lets out a short laugh. “We’ll join in a second after we get settled.” He doesn’t wait for your rebuttal, already reaching down to snag both bags with a grunt of effort that makes the muscles in his forearms cord. He nudges you toward the stairs with his elbow, his presence at your back acting like a physical wall as he herds you upward, away from the kitchen and your mother's watchful eye.
The stairs creak under his weight, a familiar rhythm that echoes years of him following you up these same steps. Once you hit the landing and duck into your childhood bedroom, the atmosphere shifts instantly. The door hasn't even fully clicked shut behind him before he drops the luggage and pins you with a look that’s equal parts exhausted and amused.
“‘He freaking started it, Mama’?” he mimics, his voice dropping into a mocking, high-pitched lilt that makes your blood boil. “You’re twenty-one years old and still running to your mother because you can't keep your mouth shut for ten minutes in the car?”
You practically bristle at the mimicry. “Oh! Is that what you—” Your words fall into the ether as you spin around, only to end up face-to-face with his chest. You tilt your head back to glare at him properly, ignoring the dark look in his eyes and the warning flashing through them. “You’re fucking doing it again. You’re being dense, Enjin. I asked a simple question: how long were y’all fucking, and did it happen in my house? Why—”
“And I answered you, Y/n. I was honest. You can’t flip your switch and be a damn brat just because you don’t like my honesty,” he snaps. The careful thread of his patience finally gives way as you raise your voice at him. An immediate no in his world.
It is a boundary you bypass and run right over, your voice still three octaves above a conversational tone. “It’s not a matter of not liking it, so don’t you dare pull that card. It’s the damn principle! Three fucking months! Three? And sure, you didn’t fuck her in my house, but what’s the irony of it all? You took her back to your place for Thanksgiving, and that’s where it all started. Do you really not see why that pisses me off? Are you being oblivious on purpose? Because it’s about to make me really earn that so-called one strike.”
The air in the room suddenly feels vacuum-sealed. Enjin doesn't move, but the atmosphere shifts from a heated argument to a dangerous, low-frequency silence. He stares down at you, his golden eyes narrowing into sharp, lethal slits.
“Lower your voice,” he commands. It isn’t a request. It is the sound of a man who has reached the end of his rope, whose holiday high has officially been decimated. He steps deeper into your space, his chest grazing your nose, forcing you to tilt your head back even further just to keep him in view. He doesn’t touch you, but the sheer wall of his presence is enough to anchor you against the edge of the bed.
You grit your teeth, your senses finally attuning to the danger.
“I was seventeen. It was six years ago. I’ve explained myself three times now. What do you want me to do? Erase it? Because I can’t.” His words are clipped, falling like stones. “I’m trying to be compromising because it’s the holidays, midterms just ended, and you just applied for early graduation—but you tell me, when is my patience allowed to run out? Huh? Because I’m at the limit, Y/n. Right now.”
His voice drops into a resonant octave that thrums through your chest. He doesn’t shout. He never has to, but the quietness of his tone is far more lethal than your screaming. He reaches out, his large hand finally closing around the nape of your neck. It’s not a squeeze, but a heavy, grounding anchor that keeps you trapped between his gaze and the mattress. His thumb traces the shell of your ear, a calming, rhythmic motion that contradicts the hardness in his eyes.
A shiver runs down your spine, goosebumps blooming along your arms. The silence feels perilous.
"Nothing to say now?" he mocks, his voice dropping into that dangerous lilt that usually signals he’s finished talking and has shifted to demonstrating.
His hand slides from the nape of your neck to the front of your throat. He doesn't squeeze; it's about control, not air. He applies just enough steady, grounded pressure to keep your head back, forcing you to look up at him without the chance of diverting your gaze. A soft, automatic whimper slips past your lips, and your eyes flutter. Your system does a messy, necessary reboot under the sudden shift in gravity, desperately trying to make sense of the room and calm down all at once—because, unfortunately, he has a point.
He watches your face for a beat, his golden eyes cataloging the way your fire turns into a hazy, responsive submission. The only sound in the bedroom is your jagged exhale as you softly shake your head, confirming you have nothing left to say.
“Wrong damn answer,” he murmurs against your skin, his breath smelling of cool, sharp mint.
He crushes his mouth to yours before you can take a full breath. It isn't a gentle kiss; it’s dominant, certain, and all-consuming. He devours you, his mouth moving with a lethal intent that makes your knees weaken. You moan into him, your resistance dissolving into a desperate need to get closer. Your hands slide underneath his hoodie, finding the warmth of his chest to ground yourself.
He pulls back just enough to look you in the eye, his thumb tracing your swollen lower lip. You’re breathless, your chest heaving, your eyes heavy with want instead of fire.
“You burned through your warnings, Y/n. You have two minutes to fix your face and your attitude. If you bring that energy down to your mother’s kitchen, I’m not going to be this patient twice. And I promise you, you won’t like the way I choose to end the next argument.”
He doesn’t wait for a rebuttal. He doesn’t linger to see if you’re moving; he simply steps out of the room, leaving the door cracked just enough for the light from the hallway to hit the carpet.
You hear his rhythmic tread on the stairs, navigating the house with the ease of someone who doesn't need to ask where the kitchen is. He doesn't hesitate; he moves straight through the living room and past the kitchen toward the back of the house.
The heavy slide of the glass patio door echoes up through the floorboards. Downstairs, both dads hold glasses of bourbon and wear matching aprons. Enjin's mother, Kai, is seated on the couch peeling sweet potatoes, while your mom sits right beside her cleaning and peeling shrimp, 90s R&B ringing throughout the open space. The chatter amongst the group ceases as they take in the giant figure in the doorway.
“Well, if it isn’t my prodigal son,” Mrs. Kai calls out. Enjin grunts at the sentiment, wrapping his arms over her shoulders from behind in a hug. “You never called me back, you little shit.”
He chuckles. “You spoke with Princess. Whatever she told you was probably more than what I would have said.”
His statement makes the group laugh, everyone well aware that their blonde-haired giant is a man of few words over the phone. But it also sends shared looks rippling through the room.
“Right—which I thought was interesting, since I called on a Thursday evening,” his mother muses, her eyes twinkling with a sudden, sharp focus. “Since when do you spend a night on Thursdays?”
His eyes snap toward your father, whose bourbon freezes near his lips. He lets out a low hum, his dark eyes narrowing as he lets the question settle.
“Thursday, huh, Kai?” your father asks, the glass still hovering.
She nods enthusiastically. “Called him right after I got back from the farmers market with my favorite girl.” She bumps your mother’s shoulder, who wears a shit-eating grin.
“Interrogation as soon as we get home after such a long semester,” Enjin sighs, but the smirk on his face gives him away. “Since about two months ago.”
Your mothers squeal in a synchronized burst of triumph. His father, Roy, groans, reaching for his wallet, while your dad stands speechless.
“Jin, you’re telling me what I think you’re telling me?” his dad inquires, his voice thick with a mix of disbelief and "I-knew-it."
Enjin stands up straight, releasing his mother from his warm hold. He doesn't offer a verbal confirmation yet. Instead, he turns his full attention toward the sound of the door opening again, his gaze locking onto the landing where you've finally appeared.
He tracks the way you move, noting the way your lips are tilted in a tiny, lingering smile and the fact that you’re now wearing one of his hoodies. The oversized fabric swallows your frame, making you look more like his in the eyes of your parents than ever before.
You’re unsure why everyone is staring back and forth between the two of you as if a high-stakes tennis match is occurring, but you keep your eyes locked on his.
“It’s fixed, and I apologize for my attitude,” is all you say, your voice steady despite the lingering heat in your cheeks.
Without waiting for his response, you practically skip into your dad’s open arms. Your father catches you with a loud, booming laugh, but his eyes are still fixed on Enjin, who hasn’t looked away from you for a second.
The scents of bourbon, spices, and the pool encompass you as you bury your head in his arms. “Princess! I missed you so much! Have you been eating well? And sleeping okay? — wait, no, Enjin,” he turns his line of questioning away from you while keeping you in his comforting embrace. “Have you been making sure she’s eating well and sleeping okay?”
You draw your head back, eyes wide, mouth open. “W–”
“Yes, sir,” Enjin answers, cutting through whatever excuse you are about to concoct. He doesn't even hesitate, leaning back against the bar with an effortless, grounded authority. “She still refuses to drink enough water, but I’ve officially gotten her to eat vegetables consistently. She gets at least seven hours of sleep when she isn’t being a brat.”
“I am not a brat; I’m a princess,” you retort, the oversized sleeves of his hoodie flopping as you pull away from your dad’s hold. You move toward Enjin’s dad, Roy, and wrap him in a hug as well.
“Don’t start that arguing again,” your mother demands, pointing a shrimp-deveining knife toward the two of you. She shuts down Enjin’s response before he even has the chance to fully formulate it. You click your tongue, moving across the space to continue your greetings.
“Again?” Kai echoes. Her hands pause to pull you into a hug, her sharp eyes darting between you and her son. The 90s R&B playing in the background suddenly feels like a soundtrack to a courtroom drama with a Keyshia Cole track blaring.
“Yes, they walked through the doors mid-argument. No hi. No hello. Just bickering. I would have thought they were thirteen again instead of twenty-two and twenty-three,” your mom responds with ease, her hands never pausing their rhythm with the shrimp.
You lean over and place a wet kiss against her cheek, trying to soften the blow. “Not arguing… we were debating,” you correct, sliding into the empty spot on the couch between her and Kai.
You feel Enjin’s gaze burning into the back of your neck, but you keep your eyes forward. You watch your dad and his best friend, Roy, as they switch between manning the grill and watching the scene unfold before them like it's the evening news.
“Right—sure sounded like an argument with the way you were shouting upstairs,” your mom chides, casting a knowing side-eye at the stairs.
“Enjin doesn’t yell; he’s like his father in that way,” Kai mentions, her voice smooth and observant. She doesn't look at her son, but you can feel her cataloging the tension that was in your room mere moments ago. “It’s always easier for them to just take a moment, because they know that calm reaction will only irritate you more in the long run. Was this your first argument as an official couple?”
The question feels like a cold bucket of water, snapping the playful atmosphere into something far more serious.
You whip your head to Enjin, who is moving leisurely behind the outdoor bar. He’s already pouring himself a glass of bourbon, mirroring the men at the grill. “You told them already?” you squeak, suddenly hyper-aware of the four sets of eyes tracking your every blink.
“Not quite, Princess,” Enjin murmurs, not even looking up as the amber liquid swirls in his glass. “I think they had a hypothesis and spent the past couple of weeks proving it. I was curious why my mother’s calls started happening on Thursday evenings when she usually waits until Friday afternoons. Not to mention, your mom started calling to ask questions I know they’d already cleared in their group chat.”
He finally looks over his shoulder, his golden eyes meeting yours with a look that says I told you they were ahead of us. “They didn't need me to tell them anything. They already knew the answer,” he adds, his voice dropping into that smooth, matter-of-fact register. He reaches for a bundle of herbs on the counter, his fingers lingering on the leaves. “You want fresh mint in your mojito or strained through?”
Your head falls face-forward into the couch, a long, muffled groan vibrating through the cushions at the way he makes total sense.
“Inside,” you grumble, your thoughts suddenly spiraling at the realization and everything it implies for the rest of the weekend.
Roy chuckles at your antics, watching as you try to become one with the furniture. “It’s not the end of the world, Y/n. We’ve known this day was coming since you were in grade school. It was really just a matter of when.”
Your dad nods in agreement, finally taking a sip of his bourbon. “Precisely that. I just assumed it would happen after graduation. I didn’t realize the stars were going to align during midterms.”
Beside you, your mother and Kai share a synchronized, triumphant look. “That means we won, so be ready to pay up, boys. We’re gonna make your pockets hurtttt on Black Friday,” your mother shouts excitedly.
Your neck cracks from the speed in which you turn to look at her. “Won what? Did y’all have a bet going?”
“Something like that,” Roy trails off.
“Y’all are ridiculous,” you state, your voice laced with pure astonishment. “Since when?”
“Since middle school, baby,” your mother says with a shrug. “We knew Enjin was just waiting for the right time. He told us as much when he graduated high school.”
The air leaves your lungs in a sharp whoosh. You whip your head around to look at Enjin, who is leaning against the bar with his glass of bourbon, looking entirely too unbothered.
“You knew?” you demand, your eyes wide. “You knew they had money on us? You knew they were watching us this whole time and you didn't say a word?”
Enjin doesn't flinch. He takes a slow, deliberate sip of his drink. He doesn't look guilty; if anything, he looks like a man who’s been playing a very long, very successful game.
“I wasn't going to have you overthinking things because of a fifty-dollar bet,” he murmurs, taking your favorite drink in his hand. “I wanted us to figure it out on our terms first.”
He walks toward the couch, his presence looming over you. “Besides,” he adds, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. “I figured you’d find out eventually. I just didn't expect it to happen quite like this.” He presses the chilled glass to the side of your face, cooling your warm cheeks.
“Thank you,” you whisper softly, wrapping unsteady hands around it.
“So when did it happen? How? Don’t expect us to not have any questions despite seeing this was coming,” Kai asks, as she begins cleaning the peelings that escaped her bowl.
You take a sip of the strawberry-flavored mojito. The cocktail is a perfect mix of sugar and liquor—just the way you liked it, and exactly what you need to survive this interrogation. “Labor Day weekend… after trivia night and one too many drinks on my side,” you explain.
Flashes of that night dance behind your eyelids—not a quiet night at home, but the chaos of the frat house. You remember the heavy weight of the varsity jacket around your shoulders. You remember standing on a coffee table, shouting out facts about Ramses II and the weight of the pyramids while your teammates cheered you on.
“I didn't expect the night to end the way it did,” you admit, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips. “I was on top of a table, plastered, playing, and winning trivia, and Enjin found me.”
Enjin lets out a low, amused huff from the bar, swirling his bourbon. “Found you is an interesting way of putting it,” he murmurs, his golden eyes locking onto yours with a look that says he still remembers exactly how you looked when he found you in that napkin of a skirt. “I walked in to find my princess being worshipped by a room full of idiots for knowing the Narmer Palette.”
The parents laugh, the sound warm and synchronized, but your mother’s eyes are sharp. “And that’s the night it changed? Between the pyramids and the beer?”
You take a long sip of the mojito, the strawberry flavor masking the memory of the long talk that followed. You remember the shift in the air when he finally reached for you on that table—the way he carried you out like a trophy and the execution of ‘Strike Three’ that waits for you back at the house. And, gosh, the soreness that lasts well into the weekday from the way his hands leave prints across your ass every night until Monday.
“Yes… I told him I loved him while drunk and that… that did it…” Enjin's gaze is steady on you, the smirk gone, replaced by that same raw intensity that usually stays behind closed doors. You clear your throat, trying to perform correctly with your parents’ eyes on you. “I woke up dangerously hungover, but we spoke and reached a rather lovely consensus and here we are…”
“Here we are indeed, Princess,” he smiles sweetly, a rare, unguarded look that makes your walls clinch in response.
“Don’t get cute, you got some explaining to do later,” you remark.
It draws another round of laughter from the group. The sound is warm, filling the patio and momentarily drowning out the music. Your mother and Kai share a triumphant look, likely already calculating how much they plan on scoring during the Black Friday sales.
“Oh, I’m sure he does,” your mother muses, her eyes sparkling with a mix of maternal pride and a lingering curiosity about the data she’s been collecting. “Nonetheless, we’re happy for you kiddos. Congrats on joining the Childhood Lovers group.”
Your fathers finally close the grill, conspiring about heading to your father’s lounge for a cigar. Your mothers collect their food items, prepping to head inside.
Enjin doesn't look away from you. He takes a slow, grounding sip of his bourbon, his golden eyes dark and focused—a stark contrast to the sweet smile he just offered. He adjusts from leaning on the bar and casually takes the seat his mother freed up.
“We’ll leave you two to your talk, we’ll be prepping still. Don’t take too long though, I expect both of you to help,” Kai calls over her shoulder before closing the door once all the grown folks have made their way inside.
He doesn't rush to speak. He looks at you with a slow, predatory focus, the ‘sweet son’ persona he used for the parents evaporating to reveal the man who reprimanded you on his kitchen island months ago.
“Start talkin’, pretty boy,” you demand.
Enjin hums, his cheeks slightly flushed from the bourbon. "What you want me to talk about, Baby?"
"If you had known what you wanted since high school, why the hell did you wait?"
He lets out a hearty laugh, his head thrown back as he lets the sound ring out across the patio. You pout, crossing your arms over the oversized hoodie and feeling a familiar prickle of annoyance. “Enjin,” you whine. The sound alone is enough to slow him down; he turns his head, looking at you head-on instead of through his peripheral vision.
“Yes, Baby?” he asks in a breathy register that always makes your pulse jump.
“If you knew what you wanted since high school, why did you wait?” you repeat.
He shifts in his seat, his legs opening wider to accommodate your weight as he loops an arm underneath your back, pulling you firmly into his lap.
“Do you remember the summer I moved away?” he asks, his voice dropping into a low, reflective hum.
Your eyebrows furrow, and you settle your arms around his neck loosely, the oversized fabric of his hoodie bunching between your fingers. “Yeah. I mean, not to be dramatic, but that was the worst summer of my life. What the hell does that have to do with this?”
His hands dip underneath your shirt, fingers warm as they push your yoga pants down just enough to rest on your hips. “I think my parents told you that we were moving for work. But my parents had decided to split up that summer,” he confesses softly. “I overheard my mom talking about how she felt like she didn’t know who she was outside of my dad. It made sense to me—they’ve been joined at the hip since they were five years old, together since freshman year in high school, through college, and then when my brother and I came around, she was all about us.”
He exhales slowly, settling his head back against the couch to stare at the ceiling, his grip on you tightening just a fraction.
“My dad told her to go explore and find the answers to the questions she had... and if those answers didn’t lead back to him, he would understand and support her. So, Mom went to do just that. But I thought about us—if we were in that predicament further down the line, I couldn’t imagine doing that and being able to let go. I’m selfish, Y/n. I know that, but when it concerns you, I become more than that. Call it possessive, territorial, tunnel-visioned, but I’m not even sure those words really convey just how deep it goes.”
He brings his gaze back down to yours, his golden eyes dark with a vulnerable honesty that often hides behind his mask of control.
“I just couldn’t let you do that,” he admits, his fingers tracing a familiar, rhythmic line along your hip. “So I went to your dad. Thought the local quack could help me out and I told him what was going on in my world, and he said he understood. He said it might just be hormones or it might just be who I am, but only time would give me that answer. But I also wasn't sure how to even go about letting you go about growing without me, when we’re so aligned, so your dad and I created some guidelines. I looked elsewhere, stuck to the rules he and I came up with, and allowed you to grow in whatever capacity you wanted in a romantic sense—without me.”
You stare at him, the weight of his confession finally sinking in. The years of him being your best friend weren't just a waiting game; they were a sacrifice. He’d given you the freedom to choose anyone else, all while making sure no one else could ever measure up to the standard he set.
The silence that follows is heavy. You think back to the years of him picking you up every Friday, the rules he had with your father, and the way he consistently marked your skin to keep other men at a distance. It wasn't just a long game; it was a calculated risk he took to make sure that when you finally chose him, you wouldn't ever feel the need to wonder who you were without him.
You cup his jaw in your hands, your thumbs tracing the sharp, familiar lines of his face. “I—I love you so much,” you whisper, resting your forehead against his. The steady sound of his breathing is only one octave higher than the rapid thud of your heart, but it is grounding in exactly the way you need it to be. The recognition of his devotion, the years of him holding back just to give you the space to find yourself, sends your heart soaring.
He chuckled, the ripple traveling through his chest and into yours. “I love you too, so fucking much, Baby,” he accessorizes his murmur, his voice thick with untethered affection.
He pulls you tighter into his lap, his hands settling firmly on the curve of your ass as he presses you flush against him. Your fingers tentatively trace his bottom lip, your gaze dropping to the mouth that has spent the last couple months claiming every inch of you.
“I want you really badly right now,” you confess, your voice barely a breath against his skin. “But something tells me that as soon as we step inside, that won’t be possible.”
Enjin hums, a dark, amused sound as he nuzzles into the junction of your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin right where his marks sit.
“It won't be,” he agrees, his voice dropping into that low, non-negotiable register. “My mother is already looking for an excuse to keep you in that kitchen, and your dad is probably waiting to corner me about my 'intentions' again.”
He pulls back just enough to look you in the eye, his golden gaze heavy with the same raw intensity that led to your massage turning into a sex marathon with Wheel of Fortune as the background track.
“So stay right here for a second,” he commands softly, one hand tightening its grip on your ass, the other brushing underneath the wire of your bra. “Because once we walk through that door, I have to share you with the rest of the Childhood Lovers group.”
You giggle, the sound light and airy. “I have this inkling though, that if I stay in your lap any longer you’re gonna cause some trouble.”
He chuckles. “Trouble, hmm? It’s not my fault being in the mere proximity of me turns you feral.”
You give him a playful look, your fingers tightening in his hair. “You’re so full of it. You’ve been ‘conditioning’ me for this since middle school, isn’t that right?”
“And the results are clearly favorable,” he murmurs, his thumb trails the lace of your bra with a slow, agonizing deliberation. He leans in, his lips hovering just a fraction away from yours, claiming your breath before he even claims the kiss. One more minute, Princess. I'm not ready to go back to being the 'prodigal son' just yet.”
The kiss is leisurely and sensual, his mouth moving against yours in a way that speaks of promises for as soon as your parents' bedtime arrives. You tighten your hold around him, your hips moving forward on instinct to feel what being in your presence does to him. Despite the bagginess of his sweatpants, you feel him through the thinness of your pants, pulling a soft moan from you which he swallows.
“Careful, Princess,” he rasps, yet his thumb brushes against your nipple teasingly. “You’re getting yourself worked up, and we both know how you get when you’re overstimulated.”
You breathe out a jagged laugh, your forehead resting against his as you try to regulate your breathing. The scent of bourbon and the cool evening air are the only things keeping you from fully unraveling in his lap.
“You started it,” you whisper, giving a gentle pull to his hair. “Again, the conditioning is clearly working too well.”
Enjin gives a low laugh, a heavy, pulsing sound that travels straight to your core. He claims one final, crushing kiss before lifting you from his lap. “Go. Before your dad decides to come out here and check on us himself,” he commands softly. “I’ll be right behind you. I just need a second.”
You grab your drink from the table, squeaking as he lands a firm smack to your ass as you bend in front of him. “Now who needs to be careful,” you tease, glancing at him over your shoulder.
Enjin doesn't move from his seat, but his eyes track the movement of your hips with a dark, heavy promise. “Still you, Princess. I have no problem with taking your ass to my car, a hotel, or your bedroom. So tread lightly—I’m one suggestive look away from ruining you.”
Your fingers pause on the handle, the sound of your mothers’ laughter floating beyond the glass sliding door. “I hope that’s a promise and guarantee,” you whisper, catching his gaze in the reflection of the door.
“Princess, it’s a vow.”
It sends a shiver down your spine at the weight of his words. You nod, before finally allowing the warmth of the kitchen to take you from the electricity of Enjin.
“Ah! My favorite daughter is back. Where’s the boy?” your mom’s voice raises over the sound of the music and clanking of pans. Kai is standing at the island sink, washing dishes, her gaze just as curious.
“Should be coming in right behind me, or he’s gonna use the side door to head to dad’s lounge,” you explain, taking a long, steady sip of your mojito.
Your mom pauses her intense whisking, her eyes narrowing as she takes in your slightly disheveled state and the way your cheeks are still flushed. “And? Did you two finally finish your ‘debate,’ or do I need to send your father out there to mediate?”
“We’re good, Mama L,” Enjin’s voice cuts through the room before you can respond. He enters from the patio, the cool night air clinging to his shoulders and the scent of bourbon following him like a shadow. He doesn’t look at you, but the way he moves to stand directly beside you, his presence a heavy, destabilizing force, tells you exactly where his mind is: calculating the efficiency necessary to get everything done swiftly so you both can become free of your soon-to-be sous-chef titles.
Kai turns off the faucet, drying her hands as she looks between the two of you with a sharp, maternal focus. “Good. We have lots to do if we want tomorrow to be efficient. Enjin, look at my spreadsheet and go make sure your dad and in-law are on time. Little bit, you'll be helping your mom and me. I want you to chop up the sweet potatoes and then start on snapping the green beans—”
“Kai, taste this? Is it too salty?” your mom interrupts, already popping whatever she’s mixing into Kai’s mouth. Both ladies become distracted with the ratio of the dish, the earlier interrogation momentarily forgotten in favor of culinary perfection.
You turn to look at Enjin, who flips through his mother’s color-coded timetable. “Wow, she’s so thorough. Even has time allotted for ‘our talk’—how’d she even know we’d need one?” you mumble over his forearm.
Enjin doesn't pull his gaze from the papers, but the corner of his mouth quirks into a ghost of a smirk. “You know she works all on probability. This is probably one of three routes she calculated happening.” The rest of his words formulate into static as you press yourself closer to him.
Inhaling deeply, the scent of bourbon and coffee infiltrates your senses. You practically bury yourself into his side, wrapping your arms around him unconsciously, seeking the solid warmth of his chest beneath the hoodie.
“Baby,” he says, low and inquisitive.
It sends a jolt through you—a physical response to the same register he uses when he talks you through it, when he’s edging and overstimulating you until he’s satisfied. He doesn't stop flipping through the spreadsheet, but his free hand leaves the packet to slide to the small of your back, pulling you flush against his hip.
“You’re getting clingy in front of the audience, Princess,” he whispers, his eyes flicking toward the moms to ensure their attention is still fixed on the stove. “If you don’t let go and start on those green beans, Ma is going to realize her probability for ‘our talk’ needs to be moved down by at least an hour.”
A soft whine slips past your lips, snuggling your head even deeper into him. “How can I not be clingy when you smell good, look damn good, sound real good, and treat me as if nothing in this world comes close to what I mean to you?” you whisper, your voice muffled.
He pauses, finally giving you his undivided attention. His world shifts internally at the sight before him. You look as if you are trying to become one with him; your braids hide your face from him, but he knows you are wearing a pout and those beautiful eyes are blown wide with need.
Sparing a glance to your mothers, his mom is watching the scene out of the corner of her eye while talking to your mother about what’s missing.
He shifts so his back is toward them, acting as a wall for where your conversation could potentially pivot. He slips a hand under your chin, tilting your head upward to see the very look that he warned you about on the patio.
He groans quietly. “Princess,” he exhales, his fingers pressing deeper into your hip. “What did we just discuss?”
You don’t respond to his warning, instead trailing your hands up to the strings of his hoodie and tugging. You guide him down until he’s bent over you, his lips ghosting over yours in the narrow space he’s carved out between your bodies and your parents’.
“Just one second,” you whisper, the proximity making your head spin. “I need a kiss and then I will be on my best behavior until nightfall.”
Enjin’s gaze drops to your mouth, his jaw tightening as he weighs the risk of giving in. On one hand, he can give you what you need and send you off, but the way you are pressed against him, smelling like a mix of his cologne and your own unique scent paired with the look in your eyes, is dangerous to his control.
“Best behavior,” he demands, the words sounding more like a command than a question.
You nod, and he finally relents, leaning in to give you exactly what you asked for. It’s not a gentle kiss. It is a profound, weighty pull that reminds you exactly who he is behind closed doors. His tongue slides against yours with a slow, possessive rhythm, tasting of the bourbon he’d been sipping on the patio. His hand shifts from your hip to the nape of your neck to steady you as he drinks you in.
You let out a shaky breath, your fingers tightening on the strings of his hoodie to keep your balance as he claims you. He doesn't just kiss you; he consumes the sound of your soft moans, his teeth catching your bottom lip in a sharp, deliberate bite. The sting is centering, yet earth-shattering all at once. You feel it in the way your clit practically pulses against your underwear.
Tonight. This weekend—with him, will be trouble.
“Ahem.”
He pulls back just a fraction, his lips still grazing yours, wet and swollen. He nips at the sensitive corner of your mouth, his hand moving to the curve of your ass, before sparing a lazy look over his shoulder.
His mother stands by the island with a bag of green beans in one hand and a look of pure, unfiltered amusement on her face.
“I don’t remember ‘making out in the kitchen’ being on the spreadsheet, Enjin,” she notes, tossing the bag onto the table in front of you. “And since you’ll be distracting one another, you can head to the lounge now. We don't need y’all putting us behind schedule,” she instructs. Your mother in the background is half-listening and half-problem-solving another work-in-progress dish.
Enjin straightens up, clearing his throat as he adjusts his hoodie, though he doesn't look even remotely embarrassed. His eyes are low as he looks back down at you, silently checking to see if you are as wrecked as he is before he has to turn around and leave.
Your lips are swollen, but pulled into a shit-eating grin. “Enjoy bonding with the boys, but pray for me while you’re at it. They're going to eat me alive up here,” you jest, unraveling yourself from his embrace.
Enjin lets out a short, dry huff of a laugh. “They might,” he murmurs, his gaze lingering on your mouth for a second too long. “And I have very strong ambitions on following their lead.” With that, he turns on his heels and heads toward the basement.
You flop down at the kitchen table, pulling the bag of green beans toward you. Your fingers feel clumsy, and your pulse is still thrumming from the kiss.
“So,” your mother starts, her voice dropping into that melodic, dangerous lilt she uses when she’s about to dissect a situation. She doesn't look up from the stove, but the way she’s stirring the pot is far too methodical. “That was quite a talk you two had out there. I don’t recall either of you being so hard of hearing that you needed to sit in his lap to hear one another.”
Kai pulls up a chair across from you, grabbing a handful of beans to help. She looks at your swollen lower lip, then back at your eyes, her expression full of mischief. “I expected a lot to happen this weekend, but seeing my son look rattled is new. He usually has a better handle on himself.”
“Aunt Kai, please,” you groan, snapping a bean with a loud crack. “Can we just focus on the food? I thought we were behind schedule.”
The older women cackle in response. “Oh, we are,” your mom says, a small, triumphant smile playing on her lips. “But I’ve been waiting since you were in pigtails to see Enjin finally stop pining and start participating. Or at least do a better screening job of your short-lived relationships.”
“Mamaaaa,” you whine, not wanting to be reminded of your past bad decisions that were poor attempts and imitations of Enjin.
Your mother finally turns, leaning against the counter with a wooden spoon in hand. “What, Sugar? He’s always been territorial over you. Even when he moved away that summer, he was calling your father every Friday like clockwork to remind him he was coming into town and picking you up. We wondered when you’d finally catch on, but you were catching different fish in your net.”
Her statement settles two different realizations within you: Enjin was really trying his best consistently, despite you looking the other way because he felt forbidden. Additionally, it wasn't just him waiting; it was everyone around you watching the clock.
“Well, why didn’t anyone say anything?” you counter, giving both ladies a pointed look.
Kai smiles softly, her hands pausing. “Isn’t that what you two were talking about?”
“I—I, well, yes.” Your gaze softens as you peer into molten pools of gold that remind you so much of Enjin. “He told me why he waited… about you and Uncle Roy. But that was eight years ago. What kind of goofy waits eight years?” you question rhetorically.
“The kind of goofy that knows what he wants,” your mother adds, picking up your empty mojito glass and setting a wine glass in its place.
Kai pours a generous amount of Moscato into your glass and her own. “He’s his father’s son. A bit too intense for most people to handle, and he carries a lot of weight on his shoulders. But for you? He’s always been single-minded. Eight years probably felt like nothing compared to the lifetime he’s already planned out with you.”
The kitchen transition is a blur of laughter, shared secrets, and the rhythmic snapping of green beans. With the wine flowing and the “secret” finally out in the open, the interrogation turns into a marathon of storytelling. Kai and your mother trade turns recounting Enjin’s most desperate moments: the times he nearly blew his cover, the way he’d glare at any boy who dared to stand too close to you at graduation, and the silent agreements made between the families long before you ever said "I love you” beyond the planes of being platonic.
By the time the dishwasher is humming and the counters are wiped clean, it is well past midnight. The house finally settles into a heavy, peaceful quiet. Kai retreats to the downstairs guest suite, while your mother heads to her room at the end of the hall, leaving you to slip away to your childhood bedroom, exhausted but buzzing from the wine and spinning with thoughts of Enjin, who’s still down in the basement with your dad and his. You lock the door.
Eight years of waiting. Eight years of listening to you talk about other people and dating other people. Throughout that time, you did learn a lot: that you like when people stimulate you intellectually, because Enjin does; you need someone who can talk you down from your anxiety spirals, because Enjin can; you need someone who knows what you want and what you need, sometimes before you even do, because Enjin does. He became the standard through those eight years, but he didn’t feel attainable, and maybe that was part of the ploy.
The floorboards in the hallway groan, and your door handle turns with an agonizingly slow speed, bypassing the creak in the door that never got fixed, despite the numerous times your dad has oiled it and Enjin replaced it.
Enjin slips in, the sharp scent of expensive cigars and far too much bourbon trailing him like a physical presence. You watch as he leans against the door, eyes closed as he takes deep breaths.
“You alright, baby?” Your small voice in the dark room snaps his eyes open in surprise.
He lets out a breathy laugh. “I—I should have known your ass wouldn’t be able to sleep without me.” His words are spoken slowly, carefully even, as he tries to focus on at least one of the three versions of you playing in his vision.
He groans, setting his head back against the door. “Our f–fucking dads got me d-drunk as shit.”
Enjin slides down the door frame until his back hits the wood with a dull thud, his long legs stretching out across your rug. The cool moonlight catches the sharp line of his jaw, highlighting the flush that has crept all the way up to his ears.
"Logistics," he mutters, the word coming out thick and tangled. "Tried to keep it together. Talked about... the future. Talked about intentions. Your pops kept pouring the top-shelf stuff like it was water."
You slip out from under your sheets, squatting in between his legs as you take him in. You’ve seen Enjin tipsy, buzzed, but never this far gone, his eyes blinking rapidly to stop the intense turning of his world. It’s refreshing, almost, watching a man so composed lose it all to way too much bourbon.
You stifle a giggle at the notion. “Let me grab you some sweats and water.” His hand catches you before you can move. His grip on your wrist is firm, even in his stupor. He pulls you down until you are straddling his lap on the rug.
He groans into the crook of your neck, his nose tracing your skin as he nuzzles deeper, seeking the scent of your body wash and the lotion he loves on you so much.
“No water,” he mumbles, his voice reverberating against your pulse point in a way that makes your breath hitch. “Don’t... don’t leave. Been sitting in that lounge for six hours acting like I’m not dying to get back to you.”
He exhales a long, shaky breath, the scent of bourbon and expensive cigars clouding the small space between you. His hands trail up your exposed thighs and under your large T-shirt. No panties, no bra. Just his shirt keeping him from seeing you in your rawest form. He presses a kiss right underneath your ear before resting his head on your shoulder.
“Your dad,” he starts, then stops, letting out a dry, drunken huff of a laugh. “He is a fucking tyrant. I told them. Told them I’ve had the ring picked out since I was eighteen. Your dad just laughed... told me to prove I could handle the quality of his cellar first before his daughter… kept pouring the bourbon. I think I’m dyin’, Baby.”
You can't help the quiet laugh that escapes you. "You aren't dying, Enjin," you whisper, pressing a kiss to his temple. "You’re fuckin’ plastered though."
He groans, the sound rumbling through your shoulder as his hands shift under your shirt. His palms are hot, his calloused thumbs tracing the curve of your hips with a leisurely, profound familiarity that says he doesn't need his vision to know exactly where he is and what his touch is doing to you.
"Eighteen," you murmur, the weight of that admission sinking in. While you were worried about freshman midterms and trying to find someone who felt even a fraction as safe as he did, he was already looking at diamonds. "You really are a piece of work."
"I'm a man who knows a good investment when he sees one," he mumbles, his voice thick and honey-slow. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his golden eyes struggling to stay open, hooded and hazy with a mixture of intoxication and pure, unadulterated devotion.
“I want to grab you clothes and put you to bed,” you begin, fingers hooking on the edge of his shirt and pulling it over his head. It is a welcome sight. His tattoos stand as dark lines against his skin, love bites sporadically placed in spaces not touched by ink. “But part of me wants to relish in your lack of control. To see how well you do when I’m the one on top.”
He lets out a low, rough sound that’s half-groan and half-surrender as the shirt is tossed aside. Stripped of the fabric, the heat radiating off his chest is intense, filling the small gap between you. His golden eyes track the movement of your hands with an unfocused hunger, pupils blown wide enough to swallow the iris whole.
"Princess," he breathes. He tries to sit up straighter against the door, but the effort makes the room tilt, and he ends up leaning his weight more heavily against the door. "You're playing... a dangerous game with a man who can't even see straight."
His hands, usually so precise and calculated, lag as they move from your hips to the small of your back, pulling you closer until there isn't a single breath of air between his bare skin and your T-shirt. He nuzzles into your collarbone, his teeth grazing the skin in a messy reminder of the sharp bites he gave you in the kitchen.
"Control," he mutters, his words trailing off into a huff of bourbon-scented breath against your neck. "I've spent ten years... perfecting it. If you want to take it, take it. Use it however you want, princess."
He shifts, his knees falling wider to give you more room in his lap, his head dropping back against the door with a dull thud. He looks up at you, his face flushed and vulnerable, yet there's a flicker of that possessive fire in his gaze.
"Do your worst," he challenges, his voice dropping into a thick, honeyed rasp. "See if I don't still manage to ruin you by morning."
You don't respond with words, only a slow, deliberate shift of your weight that draws a strangled groan from deep in his chest. You reach back, twisting your hair into a messy bun to clear the way, and the sight of your bare neck in the moonlight makes his breath hitch.
He’s a man caught between the spinning room and the singular, magnetic pull of you, and for the first time in eight years, he has no counter-strategy. This is probably one of very few chances he’ll give you the reins without conditions, so there’s no chance in hell you'll turn him down. You lean forward, pressing your chest against his bare, ink-covered torso. “Morning is a long time from now,” you coo, placing light kisses along his neck.
His eyes flutter shut as he tries to anchor himself to the sensation of your lips moving against his skin. Every feather-light kiss is a targeted strike against the last of his composure. He lets out a quiet, guttural growl when your lips find the sensitive dip above his collarbone, his head rolling to the side to give you better access. For a man who usually dictates every second of your interactions, seeing him reduced to these sharp, needy inhales is intoxicating. You place a firm bite right above the sensitive spot, moaning as his hands give your ass a firm squeeze in response.
You catch a glimpse of him through your lashes, taking in the way his bottom lip is tucked between his teeth and his eyebrows furrow in concentration. “Jinny, are you holding back on me?” you tease, slowly pressing your heat into his erection.
He exhales sharply, his hands sliding from your ass to your waist to anchor you firmly in his lap. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Princess,” he exhales, his eyes snapping open to pin you with that familiar, predatory focus. “The moment the world slows the fuck down, I’ll be reclaiming my lead.”
You simply smile adoringly at him, sliding your own T-shirt off in one fluid motion, watching as his eyes widen at the sight of you. Enjin’s eyes track the fabric of your shirt as it falls to the rug, his breath hitching in a sharp, staggered inhale that tells you the threads of his control are more than wearing thin. The moonlight streaming through your window hits the marks he’s left on you, the dark, constant marks of his possession, and for a moment, the room is so quiet you can hear the frantic, uneven thud of his heart.
"God, you're stunning,” he confesses, as he struggles to reconcile the spinning room with the sight of you completely bare in his lap. He trails a finger from your waist to the inner part of your thighs, your hand wraps around his wrist as his finger brushes against your clit. You jolt a bit against him, but the mischievous smirk on your lips doesn’t budge.
“Thank you, but before you can touch Jinny, and before I hand you the reins back— I want six facts from you. One for every hour you suffered while missing me, and I want them to mean something.” You remove his hands from your body, placing them on the side of him.
“Six?" he repeats, the word catching in his throat. He lets out a breathy laugh. "Alright, Professor. Let’s see if I can pass the test."
You maneuver off of his lap, your fingers hooking into the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers. Your heart is racing, a frantic mix of adrenaline and the sharp, focused need that has been building since you stepped into this house. You pull the fabric down, Enjin lifting his hips just enough to grant you the access you've been daydreaming about all afternoon.
A moan bubbles past your lips as you set him free. Precum glistens at the tip, and his piercing catches a stray beam of moonlight, flashing with a cold brilliance against the heat of his skin.
You position yourself on your stomach between his legs, the rug soft against your skin as you settle into a view that is entirely yours. From here, you have a perfect vantage point of his length and the way his face has completely unraveled. Enjin’s head is still resting against the door, his breath coming in slow, shallow hitches. He watches you through crescent lids, his focus hazy but heavy with a primal sort of devotion. He looks like a man who has finally stopped trying to calculate the next move and is simply waiting for you to ruin him.
“Fact one, sweetheart,” you demand, gliding your finger over his cockhead, collecting the precum and using it to slick the thick veins. His abs constrict at the delicate touch.
“Fact one,” he starts, “I–I started saving for our wedding in eighth grade.” A smile plays on your lips in an attempt to hide your surprise. The confession makes you press your legs together. A moan pulls from the back of his throat as he watches you lick him from base to tip.
“Fact two, don’t make me wait.” You maintain eye contact as you shift from delivering light kisses and licks to swallowing him in one go. Enjin’s toes curl, his thighs and abs twitching under your ministrations. Your mouth is a warm, wet envelope that never fails to make him see stars.
“F-fact two… your apartment, it’s ridiculously cheap because of a deal I made with the landlords,” the words are forced through gritted teeth. His breathing is uneven as you ignore your gag reflex and take him to the hilt, repeatedly. Your hand rotates in a rhythmic tandem with your mouth. Cheeks hollowed out and unshed tears blurring your vision, but you stay tunnel-visioned on Enjin, watching the way his eyes never leave you, how his eyebrows furrow in a mix of intense concentration and self-control.
“Fact three,” he exhales roughly, his knuckles turning white as he grips your rug. It’s taking everything in him not to wrap his hands in your hair and push himself deeper down your throat. “The motherfucker you gave your virginity to… I kicked his ass e-every day for a month straight—fuck baby, slow down,” he pleads.
You shake your head, grabbing one of his hands and placing it behind your head. A reward. You slip him out of your mouth for a moment and grin up at him. “Make those last three count before I milk you dry,” you command, your voice hoarse from your performance.
He lets out a moan that makes your cunt clench, his hand pushes your head down with guided care and control despite the overload of alcohol in his system. You choke as his piercing goes further with the assistance of his hand, causing you to moan around his girthy member.
Your free hand cups his balls, using the mix of your saliva and his precum as a perfect form of lube to knead them. The sound of your sucking echoes throughout the room; your hips rock against the floor in need, cunt aching for anything to satiate the emptiness. His moans only serve as further fuel to the fire, encouraging you to up the ante to get him to come undone beneath you.
“Fact four, I-I already have our wedding date picked out,” he chokes out, barely above a whisper as he fights to hold back his impending orgasm. “Fact f-five, I never wanted a future in which w-we weren’t together.”
Tears free-fall down your cheeks and your jaw is stretched beyond comprehension. Tremors run through you as you hear his moans increase in frequency—no longer held back by the biting of his lip as his final threads of restraint break.
“Fact si-six, your dad was right about one thing tonight... I-I’m one lucky sonofabitch—” his orgasm hits mid-sentence, ripping the rest of the words from him.
You take it. All of it. His cum is thick and slightly salty, but with an underlying taste that has you swallowing with hopes of pulling more from him. Your lips remain wrapped around him even after he’s done, sending his contents straight to your stomach. Overstimulation be damned, he lets you; lets you continue to swallow him until you’ve cleaned him off.
His hand is still resting on your head. It only moves when you press a final kiss to his now semi-hard length. Your breathing is just as ragged as his, your heart thrumming and your pussy drenching the space underneath you.
“Come here,” he calls out softly, his eyes practically closed as he tries to reconcile with the world, finally, slowing down from when he first entered the room. You crawl up into his lap and your cunt brushes against him, allowing him to feel the way he affects you even when he isn't actively touching you.
His hands trail up your sides, cupping underneath your breast. “We’ll have a lot to talk about in the morning, handsome,” you gasp. He smiles lazily.
“L-long time from now,” he counters, thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples before claiming one in his mouth. It elicits a shaky moan out of you. Your fingers weave into the threads of his hair, pushing your chest further in his face. He nips and licks like a man on a mission before alternating to the other.
You hum in agreement, your hips rocking against his stomach with his dick pressed against your ass. He bites down sharply before pulling away to glance up at you. His chin rests right in between the valley of your breast. “Bed or floor?” he mumbles softly, a hand trails down over your ass and in between your wet folds. He groans as a finger slips in with no resistance. You’re soaking, drenched even.
You whine at the teasing way he pulls his finger back. He drags the pad of his thumb over your clit, watching the way your lips part to release an unrestrained moan. Your hips buck against his torso.
“Floor, p-please,” you gasp, the last word comes out barely audible as he roughly shoves two fingers inside of you. Your body trembles. Your cunt flutters around him in appreciation at finally having something to fill the void. You roll your hips against him, actively trying to chase the sensations. “O-oh f-fuck Jinny,” you breathe out shakily.
“I hope you enjoyed your power trip. I have all the intention of ruining you thoroughly before the sun rises,” he murmurs.
—-
Cold. Your eyes snap open, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as your fingers grip the empty space beside you. Enjin. You glance at your Barbie clock: 4:09 AM. It’s only been roughly forty-five minutes since you both called it a night.
You climb out of bed carefully, a low groan pulling from your chest, your back and inner thighs both pulsing with soreness and an all too familiar ache. But the concern buzzing in the back of your mind drives you to slip outside of your bedroom. The bathroom is located to the left of your room, the lights on, but the sound of water nonexistent.
You step gingerly over the floorboards, avoiding the creaking ones successfully. The doorknob is cool in your grip, the polarization of temperatures jolts you awake a bit more. When you push the bathroom door open, the sight makes your heart drop.
Enjin’s on the floor, leaning his head back against the wall beside the toilet. His eyes are tightly shut, head tilted back against the wall. His skin is pale and slick with a fine sheen of sweat that leaves his hair sticking to his forehead. One leg is propped up, and his arm is loosely draped over his knee as he struggles to keep what’s left of the contents of his stomach down. He looks completely wrecked, the sheer volume of the bourbon returning in full to collect what’s owed now that the adrenaline has faded.
“Jin,” you whisper, kneeling on the tile beside him. The floor is freezing against your knees, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating off of him.
“Sorry, Princess,” he rasps, his voice broken—a sandpaper ghost of what it was an hour ago. “Really…” he stops, swallows hard, his breath stuttering as his stomach turns again.
“I thought I put your ass to sleep for the night,” he lets out a shaky, rough breath. The dark, fresh marks on his neck and shoulders stand out vividly in the harsh light, a stark reminder of the intensity he’d poured into you before you passed out and his body finally caved.
You reach out, brushing the damp hair from his forehead. He looks so vulnerable. “You did, but you took the heater when you left,” you tease softly.
A phantom of a smile pulls at his lips. “I think the bourbon won, princess,” he mutters, finally opening his eyes to look at you. His eyes are red, but his irises have started to return. You reach over him, turning the shower on. The sound of the spray fills the space; you adjust the temperature to be borderline scalding in hopes of pulling enough steam from the contraption to help him feel better.
“It may have won the battle, but you’ve certainly won the war. Now, stay right here, Jin,” you whisper, placing a light kiss to the tip of his nose.
You move quickly, despite the heaviness in your legs. In your room, you grab a pair of boxers and flannel pajama pants for him, skipping the shirt—he’ll just peel it off in the middle of the night anyway. You tread carefully downstairs, bypassing the guest room where his parents are sleeping, and slip into the laundry room. His clothes and towel go into the dryer. Making a pit stop to the kitchen, you turn the Keurig on for hot water, letting that take its time while you dig for a BC powder in the kitchen medical drawer. Then you’re back upstairs.
Your closet yields a fresh pair of sheets and a comforter tucked neatly on the top shelf. You strip the bed and replace the old linens with the ones that carry the faint scent of your mother’s favorite fabric softener—proof she’d stashed them there recently. A glance at the clock: 4:22. You pick up the pace.
Sheets in hand, you head downstairs again, tossing them into the washer with detergent and softener. Jin’s clothes come out of the dryer, and you’re practically sprinting back upstairs. You open the bathroom door, slipping inside and closing it softly. “You okay, my baby?” you call out over the intense steam circulating around the bathroom, placing his items on the counter beside his toothbrush.
You pull the shower curtain back, revealing Enjin directly underneath the showerhead, eyes closed as he allows the water to wash away the soap suds. “Your baby is fighting for his life, and not to alarm you… but I don't think I’m winning,” his voice is worse than before, more hoarse than audible, as if he’s talking through a Wendy’s drive-thru window speaker.
“Oh honey,” you slip a hand under his chin, turning his head towards you. He hums in acknowledgment, staring down at you through wet lashes. “Come here and let me take care of you,” you instruct, already moving to turn the water off. You pull the curtain all the way back; he places a hand on your shoulder for balance as he climbs over the bathtub.
His eyes are bloodshot, but there is clarity in them now. He groans as he wraps the towel around his waist. “You’re too good to me,” he breathes. You only grin up at him, pressing a gentle kiss to his shoulder as he starts to brush his teeth.
“I just like to match your fly. I have to go grab two things, so by the time you’re done I’ll be back,” you’re already halfway out the door as your words start to register in his mind.
You make one last trip downstairs to acquire his warm water and medicine, double-checking your work to ensure it looks like you weren’t rummaging around after your mom closed up shop to keep it pristine for tomorrow’s guests.
By the time you make it back up the stairs, the bathroom door opens. Enjin steps into the hall with slow steps–half in an attempt to avoid the squeaking parts of the floorboards and half because his legs feel uncertain under his weight.
Your footsteps are right behind him, shutting the door with a quiet, practiced ease. He crawls under the covers with an appreciative groan. “And she changed the sheets… bring your fine ass here,” he demands, a playful edge woven into his words as he pats the open space beside him.
You set the items down on the nightstand beside him, then crawl over his large form to your rightful place. “I brought you warm water and BC powder,” you mutter gently. He hums, adjusting you in his arms to use your chest as a pillow, tucking his head underneath your chin and burying his nose in your neck.
“I-I can't guarantee it'll stay down, so I'll wait a bit,” he mumbles, his lips brushing against your skin with every syllable. “I love you, Princess.”
You trail lazy strokes down his back, smiling to yourself as you pull him close, “I love you, Jin.”
He squeezes you weakly in acknowledgment, your heartbeat finally louder than the blood rushing in his ears, serving as the perfect lullaby.
The room is dim, the heavy curtains blocking out most of the early morning glare, but the house around you is waking up with a vengeance. The floorboards in the hallway groan under heavy footsteps, and the distant clatter of ceramic against granite drifts up from the kitchen.
A sharp, rhythmic knock at the door breaks the silence, your eyes snapping open at the disturbance. 6:15 AM. An hour and some change of sleep. A nap, practically. You’re pinned under the weight of Enjin’s arm and half of his body weight as he substitutes his pillow for you. He doesn’t twitch. His breathing doesn’t change. The alcohol and its repercussions have overpowered his internal clock.
"Y/n? Honey, wake up," your mother’s voice calls out, muffled but bright. "Your brothers have landed. They’re downstairs tearing into the bacon already, and your father is looking for his ‘drinking buddy.' Breakfast is on the table."
You let out a small whine in dissatisfaction. Thanksgiving always starts with a family breakfast. They will just keep knocking until the whole family is at the table—a true tragedy. Because silence and sleep underneath the warmth of Enjin calls to you like a siren sings to a sailor, but much like a random sailor, it’s rather precarious to listen to the sweet lull of sleep.
"Y/n? Enjin?" your mom prompts again, her voice lingering near the wood of the door. "Don't make me send Roy up here to drag the two of you down. He’s also ready for his run with Enjin after breakfast."
“We're coming, Mom!" you call back, your voice sounding a bit raspier than your usual morning voice. Your mother walks away from the door with a small smile and a shake of her head, already foreseeing the conversation that’s sure to take place when your brothers hear you.
Enjin doesn't even open his eyes when your mother’s footsteps retreat down the hall. He just shifts, his large frame rolling slightly off of you as he feels you wiggle. “Bathroom?” he mumbles quietly.
You brush stray hairs from his forehead and press a kiss against his temple. “Breakfast, the boys have arrived. Dad’s looking for you, and your dad is ready to go on your annual run afterwards,” you inform, careful of the volume of your voice as you see him visibly wince the more he moves.
"Fifteen minutes," he rasps, his voice a gravelly vibration that sounds more like a prayer than a promise. "Just... fifteen. I’ll meet you down there."
He doesn't let go of you immediately. Instead, he leans forward, burying his face against your side for a fleeting second to press a faint, lingering kiss to your skin through the fabric of your shirt. It’s a soft, sleepy gesture, before he exhales a long, shuddering breath and sinks straight back into the mattress. Within seconds, his breathing evens out into the deep, rhythmic thrum of someone who is well and truly dead to the world.
Stepping out of the room and closing the door softly behind you, you feel the shift in atmosphere the second your foot hits the top stair. The quiet sanctuary of your bedroom is replaced by the clatter of silverware, the smell of bacon, and the unmistakable roar of your brothers’ laughter.
"Look who finally decided to join the living," your oldest brother, Ace, calls out, leaning back in his chair with a smirk that says he’s been rehearsing his opening statement for an hour. He looks past you toward the empty hallway. "Where is your shadow? Dad said he outdrank Jin last night, but I didn’t think it was bad enough to fuck up his routine,” he follows up, as you settle in your chair.
You watch as your mother places a plate full of your favorites in front of you and Kai pours you a glass of orange juice. Both ladies move in tandem like well-oiled machines before heading back into the kitchen.
You take a slow, cautious sip of your orange juice, your usual brain processing speed at an all-time low as you reconcile with the fact that you’re awake: covered in love bites, bruises, and a soreness in your walk that is unmistakable for either riding a bike for too long or being split open by a dick of monstrous proportions–no in-between, and they know damn well you don’t bike ride. In addition to sitting across from them without the cause of these predicaments. “He’ll be down in fifteen,” the words are choppy even to your own ears, every other syllable airy and without diction. Maybe deepthroating him twice in one night was a bit too much.
"Fifteen minutes, huh?" Cas, the second eldest, repeats, his voice a smooth, mocking drawl as he reaches for another piece of bacon. He pointedly tracks the way you’re holding that glass of juice like a lifeline, his eyes lingering on the faint, dark shadow peeking out from the collar of your shirt before moving back to your face. "That’s optimistic. I’ve seen him after a heavy night with the boys, but he’s usually at least upright. Meanwhile, you look like you’ve been through a whirlwind, Sis. You were drinking too?"
Drinking? In a way, perhaps. You did drink Enjin for all that he was worth, and maybe by proxy got drunk through his content. Who’s to say and who’s to really know. It feels like you are drunk from the way he left you a mess of limbs, tears, and incoherency, especially when he took his control back. And God, did he take his control back. He fucks you like he hates you and touches you like he loves you. The dull, satisfied ache settling into your hips and thighs serves as a blessing and a curse as you sit in the wooden chair.
“Y/n?" Cas prods, snapping his fingers in front of your face. "Earth to Y/n. You look as if you’re remembering a war flashback. Did Jin survive the night, or do we need to go check for a pulse?"
"He's fine," you manage, your voice coming out hoarsely. You clear your throat, trying to find your baseline. "He just... needed a second. He was pretty far gone when he finally made it upstairs."
Rudo hums, a wicked glint in his eyes as he thinks about what that means in the world of his brother. “A second, huh? I’ve never known my favorite wayward brother to need such a thing. Which,” he pauses to wipe his mouth, “now that I’m thinking about him, when I got in this morning, I could have sworn I heard some moving around last night while I slept on the couch. How late were y’all up?”
You shift uncomfortably under the weight of their gazes, and the boys catch the way your face scrunches up in response to the movement. You hadn’t seen anyone on the couch this morning, nor did you look, so his statement hits like a bucket of cold water. While your room is some distance from your parents, the stairs are right there, and therefore, so is the entrance to the living room. He could have heard many things this morning depending on the time. Anytime before 2:00 AM, you and Enjin were learning why the girl from TikTok was right about floor sex. Between 2:30 and 3:00, you were in the bathroom doing anything but getting clean for the first thirty minutes.
“I-I don’t recall. Probably was during a bathroom run…” you mumble absentmindedly, your brain split between reminiscing and trying to cover your asses.
Ace raises an eyebrow. Your father chuckles. Cas snorts and Rudo simply smirks. “Bathroom run… right?” he muses, settling back into his chair.
“You know,” Cas starts, leaning forward and setting his elbows on the table. “Sis, you’re usually a better liar than this. So, what’s really going on, huh? And don’t tell me you just stayed up late talking.”
"We were talking," you insist, though the rasp in your voice betrays you the moment the words leave your throat.
Ace lets out a sharp, incredulous bark of a laugh. "Talking? Sis, you sound like you spent the night cheering at a football game. What were you talking about that required that much vocal projection?"
A response is lost upon you at the call-out. All of the components in your brain in charge of decision-making crash like a bat out of hell. The sound of footsteps saves you, but only momentarily.
Enjin doesn't walk into the kitchen so much as he drifts—a tall, blonde ghost in a pair of running shorts and a dri-fit T-shirt, matching the attire of the other gentlemen at the table. He’s the picture of a man who’s been fighting for his life for the past several hours and has been scarcely winning.
He navigates the space with a sluggish, agonizing caution, his hand sliding along the wall for balance until he reaches the back of your chair. He doesn't say a word; he just sinks into the seat beside you, his large frame slumping forward until his forehead comes to rest against the cool wood of the table.
“There goes the prodigal son,” Rudo calls out excitedly. “Fifteen minutes on the dot, huh? Truly impressive, and dressed for a run?”
Roy grins, looking at his son with a mixture of amusement and pride. He saw how he left the basement last night: face flushed, coordination off-center, but full of conviction as he explained to his best friend’s dad why he’s the perfect man for her and what his intentions are now that he has her. Which makes him sitting at the table, or just vertical in general, that much more impressive.
Enjin lets out a quiet, vibration-heavy groan into the tabletop. He doesn't lift his head. He just raises one hand, blindly reaching out across the space until his fingers find your forearm. He anchors himself to you, his grip desperate and heavy.
"Water," he pleads, the word barely a ghost of a sound. "Need... water. Brain is... vibrating."
Your dad lets out a hearty laugh alongside Roy. “I told you, kid, you’d regret it in the morning, but you’ll be grateful for the rest of your life–and maybe sober too?” he bellows.
You wince at the volume of his voice, but you refrain from commenting, fixing Enjin a glass of water and pressing it into his hand. “Drink, Jinny, you’ll feel better after water, toast, and did you take the BC powder?” you mutter softly.
He just shifts his head slightly on the wood of the table, opening one eye to catch a glimpse of you. Your look of concern, the flushness coating your cheeks, and the disheveled appearance let him know you simply rolled out of bed and sat down. Your hair covers some of the marks he doesn’t remember making, particularly the glaringly large one right at the base of your throat. Pretty, even in a state of being undone.
“I did, thank you, baby,” his lips turn into a warm grin that makes your heart skip a beat. You smile back, nodding and pressing the cool glass to him more firmly.
"Baby?" Cas whispers, the mockery in his voice replaced by a sudden, sharp clarity. He looks at your father, who is currently busy taking a very long, very calm sip of his coffee. "Did he just... since when is she 'Baby,' Jin?"
You freeze, and so does the rest of the room aside from your parents.
Enjin finally sits upright. It’s slow, a grinding effort of will, but he does it. He takes the glass into his hands and downs it like it’s his only lifeline. His brain feels as if it’s vibrating and his body is still coming to terms with the remnants of your dad’s wine cellar.
Cas’s question still hangs in the air, thick and demanding, but Enjin doesn't look at him. He sets the glass down on the granite with a deliberate, controlled thud, before sinking in his chair and resting his head on your shoulder. His eyes flutter, trying to find peace among the glare of the early morning sun shining into the open patio window and with his decision of drinking so much liquor that he’s woken up intoxicated still.
“Been a minute,” he exhales, finally settling on simply closing his eyes for the time being. No need to look at anyone that isn’t you at this moment anyways. Your brothers turn their attention to you. Still frozen. Eyes wide. Mouth open. Like a deer caught in the headlights.
“Y/n? He’s not gonna answer us, so you have to. What the hell does ‘been a minute’ fuckin’ mean?” Ace questions, his voice flat. You inhale shakily, turning your attention to Enjin who’s still fighting a battle he doesn’t seem to be winning anytime soon.
“I–” the words die in your throat as he shifts on your shoulder. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you until you’re halfway in your chair and halfway in his lap. You adjust accordingly, settling entirely into where he wants you.
“Give me… five… five minutes of fucking silence,” he commands, before nuzzling his head in your neck much to the jargon of everyone else.
The silence he demanded is absolute, but it’s the heavy, suffocating kind that feels like the preamble to a storm. Your brothers are staring at the two of you, at the way Enjin has essentially dragged you into his orbit without even opening his eyes, and the way you’ve just... settled there. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world to be a human pillow for a man who looks like he’s been through a physical and emotional blender.
"Five minutes?" Ace whispers, the word coming out sharp and jagged. "Y/n, you’re halfway in his lap. At the breakfast table. In front of Dad, and I just know Mom can see this from her position in the kitchen. And you’re just... letting him?"
"That wasn't a 'bathroom run' on the floorboards, was it?" Rudo asks, his voice dropping the playful edge. He looks at your father, who is still calmly nursing his coffee, looking entirely too unbothered.
Your father glances up, tapping his finger on the rim of his mug. A look of pure amusement dances across his features. "He said he needed five minutes of silence, Boys. I’d suggest you give it to him. He’s had a long night of proving he’s man enough to handle this family beyond a platonic sense. If he wants to hold his girl while he recovers, that’s his business."
The word "his girl" hits the table like a lead weight. You have always been Enjin’s girl—his best friend, his shadow, his partner-in-crime. But you had never been whatever the hell this is playing out in front of them.
“Boys, quiet down," Kai’s voice cuts through the room, quiet but final as she steps back out of the kitchen with a fresh carafe of juice. She doesn't look surprised. She looks at you with a soft, knowing tilt of her head before glancing at Enjin. "The boy is exhausted. Let them be."
Rudo chuckles at his mother’s words. “Ma, dude is tired because after drinking with our dads he went and did a Tour de France with Y/n! And we know dang well the princess isn’t riding no bike.”
His words practically send your soul into the afterlife.
You stay pinned to the spot, eyes fixed on a single stray crumb on the tablecloth, feeling the heat of the room rise until your skin feels like it’s glowing. You’re certain your heart is visible through your shirt, thudding against Enjin’s chest as he holds you.
Roy lets out a sharp, sudden bark of a laugh that he tries to cover with a cough, but your father doesn't even bother. He just leans back, looking at Rudo with a look of pure, unadulterated mischief.
"Technically," your dad muses, his voice booming in the quiet kitchen, "I believe the race was a sprint, not a marathon, if the timing of the floorboards was any indication."
"Dad!" you gasp, the sound coming out as a tiny, horrified wheeze. It was only after your first orgasm on the floor did you realize the bed would hide the sounds of your sexcapade a lot better.
Enjin doesn't move his head from your neck, but you feel his lips curve into a slow, wicked grin against your skin. The vibration of his silent chuckle travels through your collarbone. He isn't embarrassed. He isn't even trying to hide it. He just tightens his arm around your waist, pulling you so flush against him that there isn’t a breath of air left between your bodies.
"Rudo," Enjin starts, the name coming out like a warning. "If you don't shut the hell up… I’m gonna show you how I won the race.”
“Race? So you're admitting it?" Cas barks, pointing a fork at the two of you. "Dad, he basically just confirmed the Tour de France! They were upstairs knocking boots. Under your roof! While you were sleeping! While I was slee–”
It’s quick. You’re not sure how he does it. Barely even feel him, but you watch the piece of jelly-covered toast stick to Cas’s face.
And Cas just sits there. Frozen. The crust of the toast still clings to his cheek while a slow, sticky glob of grape jelly slides toward his jawline.
Enjin doesn't even lift his head from your shoulder. His hand is already back on your waist, his fingers digging into your hip as if he never moved at all. The speed of the throw was surgical—the kind of accuracy that comes from a man who spent his childhood throwing fastballs and his adulthood calculating strikes.
"I said," Enjin rasps, his voice dropping into a dark, velvet register that rings through your entire body, "five minutes of silence."
The table is a crime scene. Rudo is shaking, his shoulders trembling as he tries to swallow a laugh that would probably get him a plate of eggs to the forehead. Ace is looking between the jelly on Cas’s face and the "prodigal son" currently using his sister as a bolster, his eyes wide with a new, horrified respect.
Enjin has always been a rather loose cannon in the family, one that the boys could never truly predict. While he’s the third in line as the oldest when combining your two families, he was always treated as the eldest. Elaborate tattoos before graduation? Of course. Smoking by the age of sixteen? Naturally. Having a job before even starting high school? Duh. He just always seems to have a mind that is several steps above anyone else they would ever know.
Which leads to several epiphanies between the men at the table: this was never a matter of how, but when? Their parents all knew. And, somehow, in the twenty years they have known both Enjin and you, they missed this coming entirely–and yet the pairing makes perfect sense.
Five minutes are up.
Enjin releases a slow, cool stream of air through his mouth before sitting up. His gaze is clearer and his expression is softer. One arm remains heavy on your waist, and the other moves to refill his water glass. “Thank you,” he mutters, before pressing the cup to his lips and knocking it back. His body is still thrumming with the echoes of bourbon, but his mind is a smidge quieter-–and that’s what matters the most at the moment.
“How long have you been crackin’ my sister?” Cas shoots out.
He winces at Cas’s volume, “couple months and no need to fucking yell.”
Cas rolls his eyes, aggressively stabbing his pancake as he lets the timeline settle. Ace and Rudo’s eyes widen in surprise. “No way, that means when we came down for Halloween, y’all were together? Why the heck didn’t you say something?” Rudo questions, mouth open in shock. “Princess, Y/n, I thought we were closer than this?”
You roll your eyes at his dramatics, “It wasn’t time yet… besides, neither you nor Ace can hold water. Mom, dad, Aunt Kai, Uncle Roy, the elderly ladies at church, the mailman, and everyone else and their damn mama would have known before we were ready to share.”
He huffs at your statement, but he doesn’t rebut.
“And when did mom and dad find out? And you know what, why are we all acting like it’s okay for them to be fucking while we’re sleeping?” Ace follows up, both hands resting on top of his low-cut fade as he whips his head from your dad to Uncle Roy.
Roy looks at your dad and then back to Enjin who’s oscillating between burying himself in your skin and remembering that he needs to hydrate to flush his system. “Well,” Roy starts, setting his cup of coffee down. “The agreement was that if Enjin could walk out of the room by the time the bottles were done, without waking up your mother and his, then all future actions over the next 24 hours would be voided. And guess who successfully made it up those stairs without waking anyone?”
You glance up at Enjin as he finishes another glass of water. What the hell happened in that room last night? His relaxed nature makes your eyebrow twitch. How is he so calm with all of this? He only smiles as he watches the questions begin to dance across your features. You’re cute when you’re curious.
“The perks of being the prodigal son,” Rudo grumbles, but there’s no bite in his words. If anything, he’s always been ecstatic that Enjin was the one born to carry the weight of their parents' expectations. Because Enjin is such a go-getter, over-achiever, weirdly complex individual, his parents have allowed him to be the free-spirit teenage sloth he’s always desired to be—and it’s been wonderful. “Well, I’m happy for you both. It’s about time Y/n stops bringing bum-ass, sorry-ass, weird-ass partners back to the house.” His statement elicits hearty laughs from all the men and even a quiet chuckle from Enjin.
You narrow your eyes at Rudo, “Brave comment coming from the boy who has only been dating girls that look like Riyo,” you point out. The retort earns a choked laugh from Cas, a snort from Ace, and a light pinch from Enjin that makes you yelp.
“Play nice,” he reminds softly.
You huff, giving Rudo a pointed look, “him first.”
Rudo raises his arms in mock-surrender as Enjin’s sharp gaze turns to him and back to you. No further warning necessary, he backs down.
“I guess it makes sense, I mean if anyone can handle the princess it’s Enjin. You know, as I’m sitting here mind-blown, trying to wrap my head around all of this, it really is starting to connect,” Ace muses. “He can afford her lifestyle, he practically is solo-funding it if you ask me—like, when was the last time Y/n has asked me for money—”
“I’ve never asked you for money,” you cut off, giving him a side-eye while munching on a piece of bacon.
“Exactly,” he continues. “Because Enjin is like your walking wallet. I just thought it was him performing his brotherly duties, but now I’m not so sure. I mean, he even has that deal going with your landlord—”
“Wait a second! Does everyone but me know about your deal with the landlord?” you interrupt once again, eyes the size of saucers as you wiggle Enjin’s head off your shoulder to look at him properly.
Cas snickers, “Don’t tell me you thought you were living in a high-rise at that ridiculously stupid price by sheer luck?... Oh my goodness, you did. Dad, are you sure this is your gifted child?”
Your dad simply shakes his head, “She is… she really is. But to be fair, it’s not like Enjin went out of his way to tell her.”
“I didn’t think it was important. It’s not like it changed anything, and I got a good contract out of it,” he murmurs. He presses a kiss to your temple. “You wanted to be independent and I wanted you to have what you wanted, so I made it happen. Don’t think too hard about it, Baby.”
You open your mouth to respond, but Roy cuts in. “Alright, boys. I’ve given Enjin enough time to shake back, it’s family run time. If we lag around any longer it’s going to mess up the schedule Kai made, and I don’t think any of us want that to happen on such a joyous holiday.” His words get the rest of the boys on alert as they check their watches—half past seven.
Enjin places you carefully back in your chair, “We can talk about everything else swirling in that head of yours when I get back, alright?” He ruffles your hair as you nod in agreement.
And oh, how y’all will talk.
The energy leaves with them, leaving you in the quiet sanctuary of the early morning light and the rhythmic sounds of your mothers navigating throughout the kitchen.
“You alright in there, sweetheart?” your mom calls out, peeking her head in the pass-through-window that overlooks the dining area. You lean your head back on the chair. Loaded question.
“Y-yeah, just settling into this new reality. You know?”
She hums in understanding, going around the wall to stand behind your chair. She wraps her arms around you. “You’ll adjust. Telling the family makes it more real, doesn’t it?” You nod in agreement, and she continues. “It’s probably the reason why you didn’t tell your brothers and why Enjin didn’t tell Rudo. It’s better to adjust within the realms of one another without the influence and voices of others. But, with that being said, you’re in the presence of family that doesn’t change even with your relationship title changing. You’re still our princess, our genius, and our little smartass.”
“Wow, really missed you and all your wisdom, Ma,” you whisper, nuzzling your cheek against her arm. “It’s weird… realizing you guys were all in on it and realizing the boys had no idea, but did in a weird way? And, gosh, don’t let me forget to add that he’s been pining for years. Years. How do I reconcile with that? I was just a dummy for—”
“Ah, ah, none of that language, young lady,” she chastises. “You were growing up and finding yourself, just like he wanted. And his behavior was so second nature to you that it was your version of normal, and it’s not like you had anyone to really compare his behavior to. I didn’t birth you any sisters, just two knucklehead brothers who are a different caliber of individuals when compared to Enjin’s uniqueness, so it’s not even a fair comparison…” She trails off, suddenly unsure of where she was going with this.
“I think what I’m trying to say is that you got the guy, and not just any guy, but the one who knows you better than the back of his hand. The one who has proven time and time again that he’s willing to move mountains and the heavens themselves to make sure you’re okay, and I think that’s what counts the most,” she concludes, smoothing the top of your braids before placing a kiss to your forehead.
You nod, grinning up at her. “Yeah, I’m just thinking too much since I didn’t sleep well. But that’s okay! Let’s turn on some Mary J. Blige and really get the day going before everybody rolls up on us.” The uncertainty is gone from your voice, replaced with excitement as you stand up from your chair, hands moving to begin cleaning up the mess the boys left upon their departure.
“That’s what I’m talking about, lil' bit,” Kai exclaims, stepping out from the kitchen with flour in her wild-colored hair and a ‘kiss the chef’ apron tied tightly around her waist. “Hey Alexa, play ‘Just Fine’ by Mary J. Blige,” she demands. She takes the dirty dishes from your hand and hands you Tupperware to slip the remnants of breakfast into.
The kitchen and dining room transform into a high-energy cacophony of sounds as you all sing your hearts out to the Queen of Hip-Hop Soul. Soon the space has been shaped into a proper dining table with your mom’s favorite tablecloths and hosting dishware laid out; an extra table has been extended to the end to fit roughly twenty people instead of your usual nine. You move from setting up to dessert duty.
You reference your grandmother’s messy calligraphy as you alternate between whipping up a batch of banana pudding and peach cobbler. “Mommy, Grandma isn’t coming this year, right?” you question, eyes lingering on the cobbler’s call for two tablespoons of salt, which feels like a tablespoon too much.
“She’s going to your uncle's this year since your aunt is coming here. Said something about wanting to make sure he and his wife aren't feeding them babies raw carrots and organic fruit snacks as a Thanksgiving meal supplement,” she explains. You snicker under your breath, foregoing the amount of salt for just a simple pinch.
Kai giggles, “They do have a rather rustic food palette… remember Christmas three years ago? They brought that kale and vinegar ‘entree’ with sunflower seeds. I felt like I was an imprisoned bunny rabbit.” She shivers at the memory of the bitter dish.
“God, that was a nightmare, but so was the wedding!” your mom adds. You bask in her storytelling, soaking in the wild stories they share about the crazy members that compromise both of their families.
Time flies. By the time the boys return from their run, the banana pudding is setting in the fridge and the cobbler is on a cooling tray. They enter through the back door, all sweaty, winded, and loud.
“I thought he was going to fucking die out there,” Cas cackles.
“I just can’t believe he threw up in Ms. Susan’s rose gardens,” Rudo states.
Your ears perk at the mention of throw-up. Wiping your hands on the Barbie-pink apron your mom tied around you, you glance at them through the window, eyebrows furrowed as you don’t see Enjin. “Where’s—”
“Pretty boy most likely went through the front door. He’s probably already in the shower. I don’t know how he ran those five miles drunk, but despite throwing up twice, he beat us here,” Ace calls out over his glass of water.
You turn on your heels, practically jogging as you race up the stairs. The bathroom door is open, but steam still clings to the air. You open your bedroom door, exhaling at the sight of him. A pair of tailored black trousers rest on his hips, right underneath his Calvin band. His back muscles constrict as he slips into an olive green, short-sleeve button-up.
“The boys said you threw up. You alright, handsome?” You close the door behind you, grinning as you see your clothes for the day laid out on the made-up bed.
He chuckles, “Fucking snitches. I’m alright, Princess.” He turns around, giving you the perfect view of his sculpted chest. You close the distance between the two of you, your hands finding purchase on his pecs, gently pushing him backward until the back of his knees hit your bed. He watches with merriment, not resisting as you force him to lay down.
You climb on top, keeping your hands stationed right on the firm planes of his chest. “Why’d you sneak in like a thief instead of telling us you were back?” you question, staring him down.
Enjin simply smirks, “I needed that shower like you need me to go to sleep. Besides, when I peeked into the kitchen y’all were wrapped up in your gossip. Didn’t want to interrupt your flow state.”
You give a playful bounce at his statement, “Not a good enough excuse. I could have gotten you some water. You didn’t even eat breakfast, so I could have warmed your plate up—” Your words die in your throat as his smirk turns into one of his charming smiles—the ones he reserves for when he wants something and knows that you’ll give it to him, no matter the ask.
He trails a hand under your shirt and to the middle of your back. He presses down gingerly, guiding you to lay down right on his heartbeat. He takes one deep inhale and a quiet groan slips past his lips. “I’m alright, promise. I just need to lay with you like this for a while, please?”
You brush your lips over his heartbeat before really settling against him. One of your hands tangles in the damp threads of his hair and the other sneaks under his back. “You’re lucky you’re attractive,” you grumble.
“You’ve just dated uglier,” his comment makes you tug on his hair half-heartedly.
You huff dryly, “We’re not even going down your rather robust previous sexual conquests, you little shit. Now close those pretty eyes and that mouth of yours before I start biting.”
He lets out a small laugh, wrapping himself tighter around you.
I would say Fin but there's technically a part two and three to this...I'm trying lmaooo.
I was so engrossed with this dynamic that I iust kept adding so it lead to a delay in sharing with those that asked and my bad about that team.
PART 1 | tobacco & mint (this fic can be read as a standalone)
ᢉ𐭩Enjin x f!Reader
.｡.:*☆ wc ≈ 13.5k | beta read | proof read
SYNOPSIS Since that time Enjin had you whining on your own desk, he hadn’t really initiated anything anymore and the fact that he wasn’t railing you into oblivion was driving you crazy—but why didn’t he?
CONTENT sexual frustration / sexual tension / porn with plot / resolved sexual tension / mutual pining / slow burn / established relationship / dom!Enjin / oblivious!Enjin / praise kink / sub!reader / oral m!receiving / piv / sadist!enjin if you squint
WARNINGS mdni / use of she/her pronouns / use of [Y/n] / cursing / protected sex but I wrote it in a way I think is really hot
Your boyfriend was unbearably attractive.
Physically, he was sin on two legs. Tall—one of the tallest people you’d ever met—but not in the lanky way. His shoulders were broader than most doorways he passed through, often forcing him to angle himself just to be able to enter a room.
And whenever you touched him, you couldn’t believe it was actually allowed—that this was your normal now. Feeling the fit, hard lines of his physique under his clothes whenever he pulled you close never failed to steal your breath.
Piercing, golden eyes. Sharp undercut—you could go on and on. But seeing him like this… in action, a thin sheen of sweat glowing on his naked skin—it was downright unfair.
His shirt was tossed on some random bench, muscles flexing and pulsing with heat as he powered through his final set on the bench press.
The weight lowered toward his heaving chest, calloused hands gripping the bar with effortless control. You’d seen him dominate on the field more times than you could count—but this display of raw, physical strength was something else entirely.
As a spotter, it would’ve been quite important for you to pay attention—and you were technically paying attention. If there was anything you certainly were doing it was paying very close attention.
To the wrong things, maybe—but at least you were paying attention.
An inch from his chest, the bar shot upward again, biceps bulging and pecs contracting under the strain, tattoos stretching and warping across his skin with every flex of his body.
You remembered the first time you’d ever seen his tattoos—after he’d made your legs shake so badly he’d had to carry you to the bathroom so you could shower together.
It was more than you’d ever dared to imagine.
Abstract shapes of black and red spread over the entirety of his broad back, blooming down the lengths of his arms into beautiful, cloud-like patterns.
You might or might not have had an idea of where his ink adorned his body, but one detail still caught you off guard—an intricate, circular motif right in the center of his chiseled abdomen.
The soap left for a rinse on your own skin was long forgotten.
Water ran down his alluring physique, moving along the curves of his muscular body and it did absolutely nothing to soothe your own from coming down its rather recent high—the high he was responsible for. He was to blame for.
A singular droplet cascaded down the sharp bone of his cheek. Past his jawline, his pretty neck, before continuing along the apex of his broad chest and the ripples of his toned stomach—
“See something you like?”
Your gaze shot back up to his devilishly handsome face, smugly smiling down at you as he rinsed off his body wash, bits of soap and bubbles glistening on his wet skin and individual beads of water accumulating at the tips of his dirty blond hair and falling before him.
He was living, breathing sex.
And he’d proven it again.
Of course, that wasn’t all you appreciated about him.
He always found a way to be affectionate, no matter the occasion. Whether you were out on a date, curled up in bed, or just hanging out with the other cleaners, his arm would be draped over your frame, or his hand would rest lightly on your thigh.
You adored how he’d grown into more of a show-off in polluted zones whenever you were out on missions together, pulling out all stops against trash beasts just to impress you—you’d pretend not to notice just to annoy him, but you definitely did.
And you loved how he wasn’t afraid to call you his girlfriend.
Instead of calling you by name, he’d refer to you simply as his girlfriend. It wasn’t, “[Y/n] handled that trash beast really well.” From him, it usually sounded a lot more like, “My girlfriend made that thing her bitch.”
But the truth was he hadn’t laid those hands on you since that time he had you breathless and chanting his name—and it was getting harder and harder to watch him be all hot and sweaty without feeling your thighs tense with restless want and not also notice how fit he was.
Winding down in your room had been so nice and relaxing—until he decided to shatter your day with his unchecked sex appeal.
You wanted him. Bad.
He was treating you like a precious wallflower when what you really wanted was for him to pin you down, whisper sweet nothings into your ear, and make every nerve in your body ache with a mix of pain and pleasure.
He’d long proven to you that he was capable of that—you’d never expected him to keep his hands off you now.
Quite the opposite.
Toeing the line between not forcing him into bed and still getting the point across that you wanted him to drill you into the mattress was proving to be more difficult than expected.
Your hands were more than full just trying to keep your clothes on while watching him lift heavy weights.
“Fuck,” he groaned, lowering the bar back onto the rack with careful precision, before sitting up on the bench, wrapping up his final set.
As if that hadn’t cut straight through you, your feet moved on their own, carrying the towel you’d been holding onto around the construct to hand it to him. “Why’d you even call me here? You didn’t need my help at all.”
Also, being this damn sexy in front of your twitching, frustrated girlfriend was currently illegal.
The corner of his lips quirked up as he dragged the towel over his chest—and you couldn’t even pretend to focus, because fuck… he looked like he’d been ripped straight out of a magazine.
“Are you mad I didn’t get hurt?” he mused.
“M’not mad,” you admitted, pulse ringing in your ears. “I don’t think I could’ve helped you even if I wanted. You lift more than I weigh, I think.”
An eyebrow quirked, clearly curious. “What do you weigh?”
Turning your attention back to the bar, you ran your hands over the plates, trying to calculate how much you’d have to take off.
Carefully, you slid a few plates off, one by one, the metal discs clinking against one another as they came free—first on one side, then the other. You stepped back, giving the bar a measured glance. “About this much?”
He glanced at the numbers for a moment, then back at you—and then at the weighted plates again, like he needed to make sure they really added up to what he thought they did.
“You’re joking.”
Whatever that meant.
“I’m… really not?”
With narrowed eyes, he laid back down onto the bench, his gaze lingering on you as he settled into position to press the weight you’d just adjusted—or rather, the weight you’d taken off—his focus sharp, tinged with a hint of disbelief.
His fingers wrapped around the cold metal of the bar as he braced himself, muscles tensing like he was about to lift a mountain… and then, somehow, the bar practically floated up and down, barely offering any resistance at all.
One rep became two. Two became four. In the blink of an eye, he‘d done well over ten—and you’d completely lost track of how many times the bar had gone up and down already.
“Damn. This is easy.”
Your focus shifted to his arms, the way the muscles contracted and relaxed with each controlled movement, cords of strength rippling beneath the skin as if every fiber of him was sculpted to perfection.
You felt your stomach twist, a bullet of pure heat shooting right through you. He was literally lifting your entire body like it was nothing. The bar floated almost on its own, his muscles flexing and rippling without really breaking a sweat at all.
His brows furrowed in amusement and a laugh escaped his lips. “I could lift this with both arms broken.”
“Wanna bet?” You threatened.
Without a response, he shifted his grip on the bar. It barely budged as he pressed the weight—your weight—up and down with effortless control.
His gaze found yours again, that smug, infuriating grin still in place.
“Wanna hop on?” he teased, just enough to make your blood boil for more than just one reason.
“You wish.”
“Mm,” he hummed, lowering the weight back onto the rack without so much as a struggle, then sitting up and swinging one leg over to the other side of the bench in one swift motion. “I should start lifting you as a warm-up.”
His hand found yours, guiding you to stand directly in front of him, thumb softly grazing the skin of your hand as he gently looked up into your eyes.
He had this talent—something about him—where his soft smile never really left his face, but he knew exactly how to tilt it to get under your skin. He knew how to provoke you with it, or how to annoy you with it.
And somehow, he also knew exactly how to make your heart flutter—how to make you melt.
“You’re so wound up today, baby,” he said, absentmindedly tracing patterns on the back of your hand. That faint, smug glint in his eyes stayed as he pulled you closer to stand between his legs. “What’s bothering you?”
His genuine tone and his soft puppy eyes almost made you fall to your knees. He had no idea—wasn’t even the slightest bit aware of the effect he was having on you.
You sighed. “Nothing.”
He chuckled, gently letting go of your hands as he pushed himself up and off the bench, staring you down from his usual towering height. “You sure you’re not mad at me, pretty girl?”
And even standing over you like this, chin tilted downwards to be able to get a look at you, there was nothing sharp about him. His expression stayed soft, almost concerned, like all he really wanted was to figure out how to make things right—like your comfort mattered more to him than anything else at the moment.
And that just made it so much worse.
Because while he was being patient and sweet and perfect, you could barely keep a straight line of thought together. He was out here just trying to be a good boyfriend, and meanwhile you were so hopelessly distracted by him that even forming full sentences at all came close to a miracle.
“I told you—I’m not… mad,” your voice trailed off, not entirely convinced by your own words. Although you weren’t mad—he wasn’t exactly wrong about you being worked up, either.
“That’s good,” he murmured, slinging the towel around his neck and reaching for his shirt—whose existence you’d honestly completely forgotten about. “Can I do anything to cheer you up?”
Yeah.
But how were you supposed to tell him that for the past thirty minutes your mind had been stuck in one place—on what it felt like when his hands were on you, when he‘d pulled you into him like the hungriest man alive? On how you wanted him to take your breath away in more ways than one?
How were you supposed to explain that just being around him lately was enough to throw you off completely—that his mere presence had your thoughts spiraling and your legs feeling unsteady in a way you couldn’t quite hide?
Like your body had already decided something long before you had the chance to?
You sighed again, shoulders dipping just a little. “Kiss me?”
“Oh?” The corner of his mouth lifted, that familiar teasing glint slipping into his eyes. “S‘that what the attitude was about? You want my attention?”
Your face warmed immediately. “Never mind, you’re insuffera—”
You didn’t get to finish.
His hand caught lightly at your side as he leaned down, closing the distance in one easy motion, lips meeting yours before you could take it back. Warm and unhurried, like he’d had all the time in the world to do exactly this.
His other hand lifted to your chin, fingers brushing softly as he tilted it just enough to guide you closer, adjusting the angle with effortless, subtle command.
Short circuit.
You could feel the heat of him through every point of contact, and for a moment, the world narrowed down to just the two of you. His soft lips lingered against yours a few moments longer, each brush and press melting you into pure putty under his touch.
When he pulled back, that same smug softness lingered on his face, his fingers still resting lightly on your chin, gently tilting it so you couldn’t look away, making sure your eyes stayed locked with his.
“Should’ve just asked sooner,” he murmured.
He didn’t even know half of it.
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Enjin might’ve wanted a moment to himself with you, but that tiny skirt hugging your hips was enough to cheer him up for the time being.
You hadn’t really been able to talk to him all day—running up and down the halls, tackling one task after another, just back from a quick mission—and all that in that glorious uniform that had set this whole thing in motion in the first place.
Aside from actually being with you, nothing beat sitting in the common area, getting high, and watching you strut around in his favorite outfit like you owned the damn building.
The type of entertainment he didn’t know he needed.
He wasn’t even sure if you’d noticed him yet. You moved through the halls like you were in your own little world—maybe looking for something, maybe delivering something—but honestly, he didn’t know.
And right now… he didn’t care.
His mind currently only had the capacity to imagine what would happen if he got up and dragged you to his room right now. The things he’d want to try with you. The things he’d want to do to you.
How you’d whine his name and say please so often that for the rest of the day, those two words would be all you could remember.
He could only dream. At least for now.
He leaned back into the couch, letting the haze settle in the back of his mind. The restraint only made it worse. He’d started going through more cigarettes than usual—and he already went through a lot.
The temptation was killing him, but he wanted his approach with you to be different from how he usually handled things like this. Maybe it was to prove something to himself, or maybe a part of him was afraid he might scare you off—he wasn’t even sure—but he wanted this.
He wanted to wait. For you.
And he wasn’t really used to feeling that way about women.
And while every nerve in his body was screaming to bridge the space between you and claim you any and every second of the day, he held back. Not out of disinterest—far from it—but because this wasn’t about his satisfaction. It was about yours.
For once, he was willing to let desire simmer until you called the shots.
But the moment you’d cross that line, there’d be no guarantee for you to come out unscathed. He might just end up breaking your back—accidentally, of course.
He’d gotten a taste of it the day he’d barged into your room like a maniac—part of him regretted it, part of him was just grateful it had happened at all. Grateful to have seen you like that. Heard you. Felt you. Tasted you.
Because—while having your thighs tighten around his head in bliss would always be worth it—maybe waiting would’ve been easier if he didn’t already know what you were like when the lights went off.
How quickly you unraveled for him, how effortlessly you melted into his hands—like that was exactly where you were meant to be. You trusted him with all of yourself, and he hadn’t even done anything to earn it yet. At least he didn’t think so.
He’d expected you to be the type with more edge—that was how you carried yourself in every other part of your life—but he definitely wasn’t complaining.
He could handle you with edge, no doubt—maybe one day you’d feel more of a bite, and he’d bask in the pleasure of putting you in your place with nothing but commanding affection. But he just adored how completely honest and polite you could be when you begged for his attention.
If you begged him right now he wouldn’t even waste his time taking you to his room. He’d probably take you against Semiu’s desk. Or a wall. Or this couch.
Could you keep it together in your uniform? You fought in it, after all—faced down the nastiest trash storms and survived. That thing was built for chaos.
He wasn’t a trash storm, not exactly—but right now, watching you sway like that, he was pretty sure he could summon the force of one.
His need for you was borderline alarming—for him as well as for you. The longer you waited, the more wound up he’d get, and he’d already made it his personal mission to see your legs trembling by the next day.
But more than anything—he just wanted you. In every way.
You could take a month—or even two—before finally asking, and he’d wait it out. Because even just being able to look at you like this, watch you work, and be your candid and pretty self—he was grateful to have anything of you, really.
He watched your shoulders lift and fall in a quiet sigh as your hands settled on your hips. Whatever it was you’d been working on, it looked like you’d finally finished. Or maybe you were taking a break.
As if you’d felt his gaze, you finally tilted your head toward him, eyes glinting just a little.
Your hand lifted from your side to give him a small wave, and he felt his heart hammer in his chest. It was almost laughable how easily you had this effect him. You could ask for almost anything—he’d be incapable of saying no to you.
What got him the most, though, was knowing you felt the same way.
“Don’t you have anything to do?”
Oh. You’d walked over. Stood right in front of him, arms crossed loosely, head tilted—curious.
“Nope,” he said, leaning back into the comfort of the couch, arms draped casually over the headrests behind him, one leg lazily bent at the knee. “It’s my day off.”
“I wish,” you sighed, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear and scratching the side of your neck. “I’m exhausted. My back is killing me.”
“How was your mission?” he asked, tilting his head, eyes tracking your every movement,
“Hm? Oh, it was good. For the most part,” you rubbed the back of your neck with one hand, the other resting on your hip. “Well… Guita went kaiju without permission and getting her back was… kind of a struggle. Rudo and Zanka also started fighting over… something—I don’t even know—”
He watched you with half-lidded eyes as you recounted the events of your day. His focus wasn’t really on the details—gaze flicking to the way your features caught the light, the curve of your neck, the small gestures you made while talking.
He traced the length of your torso—over your prominent collarbones, past the swell of your chest, and down to the dip of your waist. The lines of your body, the subtle stretch of your arms… his head tilted instinctively, eyes following the curve of your hip.
Committing your silhouette to his memory with closest attention to detail.
The haze from the blunt clouded his senses—and his judgment—for better or worse, stripping away nearly every filter and leaving him dangerously close to acting on every thought he’d been holding back.
“…Yeah, yeah, sounds intense,” he cut in, his fingers curling around yours as he gently guided you closer—before abruptly pulling you onto his lap in one smooth, fluid motion.
You froze for a heartbeat, caught between the surprise he read on your face and the warmth of him suddenly beneath you.
His hands rested lightly on your hips—careful to keep the blunt caught between his fingers angled away from your soft skin—steadying you. There was nothing rough or forceful about it, only the small measure of proximity he allowed himself.
“Enjin…?” your voice wavered, caught somewhere between disbelief and the pull of something a little worse.
He leaned back a fraction, letting you settle fully on his lap, thumb lazily tracing circles along your hip. “Continue,” he murmured, voice low, almost amused, eyes locked on yours. “I’m listening.”
“…Like this?”
“Yeah,” he said, lifting the blunt to his lips and taking a slow drag, eyes fixed on yours—as if the inhale carried you with it, like he was breathing you in, drawing you deep into his lungs before letting the smoke slip back out. “Why not?”
With a slight hesitation, you eased into his touch, hands rested on his chest as you continued on with your little rant—something about files that needed sorting, how Semiu needed help with something.
He liked that you felt comfortable enough to ramble on around him without a second thought, that he could give you a space to be yourself and let anything off your chest—good or bad, it didn’t matter.
He just liked hearing your voice.
Every subtle movement you made, every slight shift, made his mind race. He imagined how it would feel if you leaned closer, if you let him take the lead—if you let him cross that line he’d been dying to cross.
When would you finally ask him?
“…pretty much done for today, so that’s nice at least. I really need to tackle my laundry, though.” Your sigh swallowed the last few words.
He hummed, dragging his attention away from just how down bad he was and back to you—to the conversation at hand. “Could I sneak some of mine in with yours?”
“Depends,” you said after a moment’s thought. “What do I get in return?”
“Mm, great question.” He leaned back slightly, his hands running along the warmth of your bare thighs, fingertips teasing beneath the hem of your skirt before pulling away again. “What would you like, pretty girl?”
He could read it in the subtle shifts of your body, the way his hands on you made you grow restless. He wasn’t going to initiate anything—but you were tempting as hell, and he couldn’t be blamed for wanting to touch you, even if only in quiet affection. Not his fault it affected you the way it did.
Though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy seeing you squirm in his lap like this.
“Can I… be honest?” Your eyes dropped, watching your fingers toy nervously with the loose fabric of his sweater. It looked like you’d already thought of something—just searching for the right way to say it.
“Of course, babygirl.” His hands slid up to rest fully on your hips, measured and controlled, like a quiet reminder that he could move you himself if he wanted to. “Anything you want.”
He felt you shift in his lap and tried—unbelievably hard—not to notice the friction.
He was dying to know what it would feel like to have you like that—pressed against him, wrapped around him. Watching you come undone was a sight in itself, and more than once had he caught himself thinking back to that time he’d focused on nothing but you, because it had been the only thing he’d wanted to do.
But he couldn’t help but wonder what you’d look like once you chose to take him there, too.
Probably real fucking pretty.
Your back arched naturally into the shape of his hands as your gaze found his again. He couldn’t help the flicker of expectation that stirred in his chest. Whatever thoughts drifted behind your slightly dazed eyes, you seemed more than content right where you were.
The subtle tension you both agreed not to mention—hanging there, unspoken. The way his hands held you, the grip growing just a little firmer with each passing second. Your small, restless movements in his lap, nervous and barely contained.
Then you sighed.
“Maybe some company while I do the laundry?”
He blinked. Once. Twice.
“Damn,” he said, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips, loosening his grip slightly as one hand reached up to the back of his neck. “Kinda thought you’d ask me to kiss you again.”
Or a little beyond that.
He felt your back straighten in a quick, almost imperceptible twitch. Your subtle nervous energy flared for a moment, then faded just as fast—but not before he caught it.
“I think you’re the one who wants to kiss me, Enjin.”
He took another drag from the blunt, a soft hum escaping instinctively. Then, letting the smoke drift out, he stretched both arms back along the headrest, tilting his head and releasing a low sigh that mingled with the curling smoke.
“M’not denying that.” He wanted a lot more than just kiss you—but you didn’t need to know. Not yet.
“If you want one why don’t you ask?”
His head tilted back up, taking in the sight of you once more. The skirt rode up just slightly with the way your legs rested over his, your back still arched as if his hands were holding you, as if he’d molded you into place.
“Alright, then, pretty girl.” A faint grin tugged at his lips. “Can I kiss you?”
“Mm,” you murmured, as if in thought, adjusting yourself slightly on his lap. “No.”
He blinked again. Once. Twice.
A smug smile tugged at your lips as you continued moving in his lap, and the sensation ran straight through him. He couldn’t tell if you even realized what you were doing—or if you were just naïve.
A sharp pulse ran through his body, but his face remained unreadable, almost bored, jaw set. He’d rather die before giving you a reaction.
“Wow,” he half-laughed, brow quirking in amused confusion, entirely caught off-guard. “That’s cold.”
“Yeah, well…” Your hands slid down to rest on his stomach. “…just don’t feel like it.”
And he would’ve believed you—really, he would—if you hadn’t then scooted upward just enough to position yourself in a way that was extremely unfavorable for him.
The knowing look on your face, the teasing hint of fake pity. This entire time, you hadn’t just been trying to get comfortable. You knew exactly what you were doing.
Every little shift, every subtle movement was deliberate. The friction, the way you pressed into him—it was all to rile him up. And you had yet to stop doing it.
Now that you were sitting directly on it, he felt everything: the subtle flex of your thighs, the roll of your hips with every tilt, the way you pressed just enough to make him ache. It was intentional—he could tell—and damn if it wasn’t working. You were trying to make him cave, and every inch of him wanted to.
“Uh-huh.”
Two could play that game.
He lifted his hips effortlessly, carrying you with him, and shifted slightly in his seat. On the surface, it looked like he was just getting comfortable—but really, he wanted to send a little shock through your system.
A soft gasp escaped you, and just like that, everything he was about to do felt entirely worth it.
“Shame,” he sighed, flicking the blunt aside, his hands finding your hips once more, settling into that firm, possessive grip. “You sure you don’t want to?”
His gaze never left yours as he began subtly guiding your movements, easing you back and forth over him. There was nowhere to go, no way to stop—you were moving exactly how he wanted, completely at his mercy.
Just the way he knew you’d crumble for him.
A faint look of surprise crossed your face, as if you’d just realized he’d caught you in the act. It didn’t last long—soon it melted into that hazy, unfocused expression that he’d been hoping to see on your face again.
“Yeah…” you murmured, uncertain.
Yet, he picked up on you moving with him under the guidance of his hands.
Your palms pressed flat to the firm curve of his flexing stomach, grounding yourself while your head dipped as you chased the sparks of pleasure he teased from you. Every subtle press and sway had him biting back a groan, utterly captivated by the way you responded.
“Yeah? I don’t know, sweetheart,” he murmured, his hands on you gripping a little firmer, a quiet warning—and a promise—of how badly he wanted more. “Looks like you’re enjoying yourself a lil’ too much for that.”
He was certain that if he let go of you right now, you’d keep moving without hesitation. He could lean back, tuck his hands behind his head, and just watch you—watch you use his body to chase your own pleasure.
So many things he could be doing to you—and all you had to do was ask.
Your heat pressed against him, and it did little to calm his own rising tension. His body responded despite his restraint, pants tightening, every nerve on edge.
“C’mere, pretty girl,” he purred, voice low and teasing, letting the warmth of his body brush against yours. “Kiss me.”
The words hung between you, loaded and intentional, and he watched, half-expecting, half-daring, as you considered whether you’d take him up on it.
Every subtle movement you made, every flicker in your eyes, only wound the tension tighter—and he couldn’t help but revel in it.
Finding a moment of resolve, you leaned in.
And he turned his cheek.
His hands stopped you, iron-strong, holding you in place so you couldn’t move either way. You pulled back, brow furrowed in confusion, but before you could speak, he carefully nudged you to the side, letting you land on the couch with a small yelp.
“Actually,” he said, rising from the couch and stretching theatrically, “nah.”
“What?” you blinked as realization hit you square in the face. “What the fuck? That’s so rude!”
“Yeah, well,” he replied, smirk tugging at his lips as he threw your own words back at you. “Just don’t feel like it, y’know?”
A blatant fucking lie—but totally worth the offended look on your face.
─────────୨ৎ─────────
“Enjin—think you can grab that box up there?” Semiu gestured toward the top layer of the tall file shelf. “Don’t think we can reach it comfortably.”
He glanced up from the papers he’d been sorting, eyes flicking to the shelf as he processed the request. “‘Course. Give me a sec.”
You watched him take a last hit of the cigarette, then press the remaining bud into the ashtray set neatly on the table. A thin plume of smoke curled from his lips as he stood, stretching his back with a slow arch after what felt like hours hunched over sorting papers.
Most of the other cleaners were tied up—training or out on missions—leaving just Semiu, Enjin, and you to tackle the mountain of overflowing files and forgotten clutter.
Usually, you didn’t mind menial tasks like this—shutting your brain off, sorting things by category, maybe letting some music run softly in the background. It was a welcome change of pace from your otherwise demanding job.
Still, even with the low bass humming through the room, your focus kept slipping from the matter at hand. You found yourself watching the way his shirt clung to his shoulders, the subtle flex of his arms as he lifted the box, the smoke drifting around him like bitter fog.
The memory of his hands on your hips lingered, impossible to shake even after days had passed—him guiding you through what was essentially dry-humping him right there in the middle of the common area.
You really couldn’t have made it clearer without drafting him a written invitation. And still—he’d pushed you off him.
To be fair—you’d started it. You couldn’t even be mad at his petty comeback; in all honesty, you’d probably have done the same if the roles had been reversed.
But that didn’t stop your pride from taking a little hit.
He’d just thrown your own game right back at you when he pushed you into the figurative cold water, and you knew you weren’t exactly in a position to fight back. You really shouldn’t have been throwing stones from the big fat glass house you were sitting in in the first place.
Oh, well. Consequences of your own actions.
Those split seconds where everything finally clicked—the heat, the pressure, the way he felt under you—were everything. All you’d been yearning for this whole time; feeling wanted in every way—not everything but.
And then it was gone. Replaced by a smug curve of his mouth and the maddening view of his back as he walked off like it hadn’t meant anything at all.
A ridiculous thought dawned on you—so absurd it made you wince just for entertaining it.
But the quieter, more fragile part of you couldn’t help but wonder if he even wanted to touch you at all.
He’d never been shy about who he had spent his off nights with. Not like he’d bragged about women in the past, but he certainly didn’t bother to hide the haze of his high whenever he’d returned from a rather pleasant hookup the next day.
So why had it been so easy for him to get into bed with someone random, yet with you, he acted like the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind?
Sure, he’d kiss you, hold you, let you curl up against him. But that was about as far as the physical intimacy ever went.
You didn’t even think you were being subtle about what you wanted. But still… you couldn’t exactly stroll up and say, “Hey, please fuck me!”
That just wasn’t how it worked.
One person initiated, the other caught on. It was about reading each other, noticing the signals, not spelling everything out in words.
Right?
Either way, you knew you needed space—some time to steady your nerves around him, and the closest thing to a guarantee for him to not get ambushed by you every time he did as much as roll his sleeves up.
A soft exhale left your lips as you tried—unsuccessfully—to drag your attention back to the files. Tried, that is.
You watched him straighten again, stacking the box carefully on the table, then leaning back, rubbing the back of his neck with a slow, almost distracted motion—unconscious movements that made your chest tighten and your pulse spike a little.
The smallest habits of his you’d never really noticed before made themselves apparent—the way his hand reached up to fidget with his piercings as he scanned a line of text, or the way he chewed on the inside of his cheek while he was concentrating.
Yeah. You couldn’t be around him and then also be expected to function. At least not right now.
“Are you done with this stack?”
Semiu appeared in your peripheral vision, leaning casually on the table as she glanced at your progress.
“Huh?—Oh, yeah,” you mumbled, blinking yourself back into focus.
“Neat, good job. Think you could carry them over to the other finished ones?” She nudged the nearest pile lightly with her fingertips. “Just to free up some space.”
“Sure,” you said, sliding the stacks toward the edge of the table, fingers squaring the corners before you moved to pick them up. “I’ll get right to—“
“Hold on,” Enjin cut in, focus half-fixed on the papers laid out in front of him.
He finished sorting the last few sheets in his hands first, tapping them into place before setting them down on their respective piles. Only then did his attention fully shift to you—to the stacks you were about to lift.
“Let me.”
He swiftly moved around the table, so much so you noticed yourself leaning back to make room. His hand brushed past yours as he took hold of the stack, steady and matter-of-fact, before dragging the stack toward himself along the tabletop.
For once, there actually was no particular intention behind it. He wasn’t trying to get a rise out of you or pull you into anything.
He was just being… attentive. Doing his job. Or rather—doing your job for you.
And it sucked, because things like this just made it so clear to you that—of course—he did care. He cared enough to always keep you at the back of his mind, to watch your movements in the corner of his eye and just be there for you in any way he could.
It dawned on you that, oddly enough, people more often than not found themselves in the exact opposite predicament that you found yourself in—that they couldn’t be sure whether their partner actually cared for them or if they’d just sought out pretty-looking bed warmer.
Unless you were the most gullible person on the planet, he never made you feel like he didn’t care for you. The fact that he wasn’t initiating anything, however, just made you feel… unattractive, maybe?
Like, just maybe, the women he had slept with on his nights out had something you didn’t?
And another part of you was embarrassed for feeling this way at all. It was just a big mess piling up under the rug you desperately tried to sweep it under.
But there you stood, feeling oddly empty-handed, as if your fingers still expected to be holding something.
He probably didn’t even realize what he was doing to you right now—and you couldn’t help wondering if he’d always been this attentive, or if it was something that had started with your newly blossomed relationship.
Your eyes lingered on him a second too long as he carried the stack across the room, setting it down with the others before turning back without a word.
He didn’t sit down again.
Instead, he walked straight back toward you, as if it were the most natural thing in the world that he’d handle it all for you.
“Still some here,” he said almost absently. His golden eyes flicked up to meet yours for a brief moment before returning to the remaining piles—probably nothing more than a passing glance to him, but it landed heavier than it should have, settling somewhere warm and unsteady in your chest.
“Thanks...”
This was why you needed a break. Just a couple days to keep yourself in check.
You stepped aside before he even had to ask, watching as he gathered the last couple stacks, balancing them with practiced motions. His sleeve rode up slightly as he lifted them, revealing the familiar clouds of ink along his forearm.
Nothing dramatic or showy to impress anyone.
Just unhurried efficiency. Flow-state.
He carried those over too, disappearing again between the shelves and the finished piles, leaving you standing there with nothing left to organize but your own thoughts.
Youreyes lingered on where you last watched his frame a second too long as he turned away, stacking the papers neatly with the others before returning to his seat like nothing had happened.
Which, to him, it probably hadn’t.
But it stuck with you anyway.
“[Y/n], you’ve been here for hours. I think Enjin and I can handle the rest,” Semiu said, clapping her hands lightly as if signaling the end of your shift. “Thanks for your help—you did great.”
Perhaps she’d caught wind of your odd demeanor, but you didn’t have it in you to entertain the idea. Because you had really been here for a couple hours longer than the two of them and you were starting to feel a little tired.
“You sure?” you asked, tilting your head. “In that case… my pillow is calling my name. Thanks, Semiu.”
You took a moment to straighten the scattered papers on your desk before taking hold your jacket on the chair and draping it over your shoulders.
“See you later?” you murmured, brushing past him and planting a soft, unhurried peck on his cheek, fully aware it would probably be the last time for a little while that you could interact with him so naturally.
Not for long. Just a day or two—until you finally calmed down a little.
He barely turned—just a second or two—flashing a tired smile and that look in his eyes that made you melt. “‘Course, baby.”
You don’t think you’d ever get used to him calling you that.
And the moment the archive door shut behind you, your thoughts began spiraling all over again.
About why he’d even asked you out in the first place.
What, exactly, had drawn his attention to you after months of working side by side, rifling through smelly trash? It wasn’t as if you’d suddenly changed—you were pretty much the same you had always been. Same habits, same routines.
So what had possessed him, all of a sudden?
Had there been some moment you’d missed?
And if it had appeared that suddenly… could it disappear just as quickly?
The thought made your stomach twist.
Maybe that was the question that had actually been quietly eating at you all along—not why he’d asked you out.
But whether he’d already started to change his mind.
Somehow, that possibility lingered louder in your head than anything else.
And it hurt more than you would’ve liked to admit.
You weren’t even sure when you’d made it to your bed, how many hours had slipped by while you mulled it over—but it sure did a number on your self-esteem.
You could already hear exactly what he’d say if you brought this up. “Stop being silly, baby—of course you’re important to me.”
And then… you’d have to ask why he wasn’t the one initiating anything. And you just didn’t it want to go there.
It would have to happen eventually. You knew that.
But not yet. First, you needed a second to brace yourself for the awkward conversation… and to wrestle your hormones back under control.
Just a little space. Just a little time.
He wouldn’t even notice.
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Enjin had been trying to get a hold of you for a couple days now.
But—somehow, almost every time—there was some chore to do, an errand to run, or work that demanded your attention. Being a cleaner kept you busy, sure, but not like this.
Missing one or two chances was understandable. But it had been so long since he’d spent time with you that he was starting to worry he might forget the cute roll of your eyes whenever he’d say something that pissed you off.
On top of that, he couldn’t shake the worry that he’d somehow upset you. And, honestly, more than a little frustrated that you weren’t telling him anything.
Yesterday morning, he’d caught you having breakfast with Eisha. When he asked about when he should be there to keep you company for the laundry, you said you were busy.
Not busy with what, not a single detail—just “busy.” And then you were gone, leaving him with nothing but the empty space where your answer should have been.
He checked with Semiu. Riyo. Zanka. Eisha. Corvus. Rudo. You’d been nowhere in sight all day. After an hour of looking, late evening was already creeping in, and his worry was starting to thrum.
He wasn’t stupid. You were avoiding him. He just didn’t know why—what he might have done to upset you like this, or how terrible it could be for you not to tell him right away.
He trusted that you knew him well enough—if he’d messed up, he would apologize. And that was that.
So—where were you?
He’d knocked on your door. No answer. Checked the common area, the mess hall. Still nothing. He even tried your choker—silent.
You definitely hadn’t left the building; going out at this hour wasn’t your style. He knew that much.
With all that pent-up energy inside him, thinking clearly was nearly impossible. All he wanted to do was cuddle up with you, watch a dumb movie, and try the new Viander sweets that came in today.
He hadn’t realized how much he relied on seeing you every day until now. The silence was unbearable, the not knowing was worse.
You’d usually spend your time together like this—nothing special, just keeping each other company. Well… “usually.” It had been nearly a week since you’d done anything together.
For two people who lived in the same building he sure felt like he hardly even saw you around anymore.
It hadn’t started like this. About two weeks ago, he’d already noticed you acting a little off. Every time he put an arm around you, you’d stiffen or shift away. He’d assumed it was just mission fatigue and didn’t think much of it.
But then, suggesting hanging out later made you restless, fidgety.
He felt like a frog only now realizing the water was boiling—wandering the halls without a single clue where his girlfriend had disappeared to.
Until a flicker of pink caught in his peripheral vision.
Something small. Carelessly forgotten in the middle of the hallway.
A cute, frilly pair of panties.
A pair he knew a little too well. The same ones he’d shoved aside a few weeks ago, too busy getting high off the taste of you to care where they ended up.
He stilled, eyes sweeping the corridor to make sure no one was watching—no one ready to mistake him for some perv stealing his coworkers’ underwear. Although, he technically was right now—but not like that.
Swiftly, he bent down and scooped them up in one smooth motion, curling the fabric into the center of his palm before closing his fist around it.
Then he kept walking, stride steady, the soft bundle hidden in his hand as his feet carried him toward the room he was almost certain you’d be in.
And if he was right about where that was, you were going to have a lot of explaining to do.
His steps came to a halt in front of an unassuming door, identical to all the others, the low hum of washing machines vibrating faintly through the walls.
He stood there for a second.
Then his free hand lifted to his choker—only for the sharp chirp of an incoming call to sound from the other side of the door.
He blinked.
“Huh—oh, shit—”
“[Y/n]?” he called, brows pulling together.
A beat of silence.
“…No?” came your less-than-convincing reply from inside.
With a defeated sigh that barely carried through the wall between you, you cracked the door open for him.
Seeing you like this made it nearly impossible to stay mad—just a little sundress hugging the curves he adored, your hair slightly tousled from hours in the laundry room, a faint sheen of sweat catching the light on your skin.
“Are we playing some kind of naughty scavenger hunt, or why’ve you been hiding from me all day?” he asked, holding your cute underwear between his fingers. You gasped at the sight, snatching it from him and clutching it to your chest in embarrassment.
The door stayed open as you walked back to lean over the dryer, hands braced on its edge, arms stretched, body curved and the hem of your dress hitching along your curves, teasing him just enough to make his mind race—but never enough to give it all away.
Your eyes were fixed on the spinning drum like it was the most interesting thing in the world right now—and you were genuinely so fucking lucky to be as cute as you were, because it did wonders to soothe Enjin‘s rather agitated nerves.
“I haven’t been hiding,” you mumbled. “Just… busy.”
Busy. Again. The word stuck in his mind like a parasite.
He moved without a second thought, shutting the door behind him before settling onto the washing machine at the far end of the cramped laundry room. As he brushed past you, his fingers dragged lightly along the frilly hem of your dress, just enough to make his presence known.
“Didn’t you say you wanted me to help with the laundry?” he pressed.
“Yeah… but I didn’t want to bother you,” you admitted, as though you were unsure of whether that was even the reason—like you were asking him if that was your true intention.
“You’d never bother me, baby,” he said, leaning his weight back on his arms, hands flat against the surface of the machine beneath him.
“At least not with stuff like that. What does bother me,” he continued, eyes locked on your backside, as you refused to turn towards him, “is when my girlfriend avoids me for days on end and doesn’t give me a single fucking clue about what I did wrong.”
The air between you thickened, and he knew you could feel the weight of his words by the way your shoulders tensed ever so slightly.
“It’s not like that.” You shifted, pulling your weight back onto your feet, fingers fiddling with the frilly underwear in your hands as if you’d forgotten what they were. Still, you didn’t turn to him, and his patience was starting to fray.
“So,” he said, leaning slightly forward, arms crossed, “you haven’t been hiding from me?”
“No,” you replied, tossing the pink fabric into the basket beside you, a little frustrated. “Well… kinda—but it’s still not like that. I promise.”
“Then what is it like?” His brow furrowed, arms tightening across his chest as he edged closer, agitation creeping into his voice.
You sighed, unsure what to do with your arms, finally settling on clutching one to your side for comfort. “I’m not mad at you or anything.”
“Okay,” he tilted his head, trying to catch a glimpse of your face you stubbornly refused to show. “Then why aren’t you looking at me?”
─────────୨ৎ─────────
“Then why aren’t you looking at me?”
There was an edge to his voice—frustration, maybe—but beneath it sat something softer. Concern. And it pulled at your heartstrings so bad, because you had never meant for any of this to spiral like it had.
You hadn’t meant to make him worry. Of all the reasons to upset him, this had to be the stupidest one imaginable.
You just needed time. But it turned out you needed a lot more than you first anticipated, because every interaction just felt more awkward with each time you talked and it was all your fault.
Unlike him, you didn’t have the patience of an angel. You weren’t able to keep it in your stupid pants. How were you supposed to learn how to control yourself if your boyfriend looked like that?
You stared down into the working dryer like it held the secrets of the universe. Like the answers might be hiding somewhere between the spinning metal and the faint scent of detergent.
You knew you had to tell him.
It was just so fucking embarrassing.
“Could you…” Your voice faltered. You forced yourself to turn, finally looking at him properly for the first time in days—
—and immediately regretted it.
Your brain hadn’t been exaggerating. It hadn’t romanticized him. He really was just unfairly good-looking.
And kind. And caring. And unbearably generous.
His arms were crossed loosely over his chest. Leaning back against the washing machine and intently focused on you. Brows slightly drawn, but his expression soft—achingly fond, even now.
He just wanted to help.
Get a fucking grip, woman.
“Could you… turn around?” you asked quietly.
He blinked. “Is there something on my back?” His head tilted, genuinely confused.
“No, not at all,” you said quickly, heat creeping up your neck. “I just… don’t want you looking at me while I say this.”
There was a small pause.
“…Okay. Sure.”
No teasing. No pushing. He simply pushed off the machine and turned around, resting his hands on the edge of it in front of him. Giving you his back without hesitation.
It barely helped to calm your racing heart.
You inhaled slowly.
“This is stupid,” you muttered.
“Probably,” he replied calmly. “Still want to hear it.”
You let out a shaky breath.
“I’m not avoiding you because I’m mad,” you began. “Or bored. Or… whatever you think.”
Silent. Attentive. Waiting.
“I just—” You squeezed your eyes shut. “I can’t… function around you lately?”
No reaction. He stood still, anchored to the ground, molded into place.
“…What does that mean?” he asked, slower now.
“It means,” you rushed out before you could lose your nerve, “that you’re just standing there doing normal things and I feel like I’m losing my mind. And it’s embarrassing.”
You swallowed.
“And you’re so… restrained. All the time. You don’t touch me unless I initiate it. You don’t— you don’t start anything.” Your voice dipped quieter, your words beginning to sound more like questions than statements. “It makes me feel like I’m the only one that… wants it.”
The confession hung heavy in the small laundry room.
For a moment, he didn’t speak—and you could merely watch the rise and fall of his back with every breath as he processed the information.
“…That’s what this is?” he asked softly.
You nodded, even though he couldn’t see it.
“I just— I don’t know if you’re holding back because you don’t want me like that or because you’re just being polite or—”
“You think I don’t want you?”
If you didn’t know him, you might’ve called it anger—the edge in his voice. But it wasn’t that. It was something else—something tight, something sharp, something that didn’t quite have a name. And you knew, without being able to explain how, that it wasn’t anger at all.
You hesitated. “I don’t know.”
A beat of silence.
Then you heard him exhale slowly through his nose.
“…Can I turn around now?” he asked, voice lower.
You hesitated. “…Okay.”
He turned.
Time seemed to stretch, every second drawn out as he studied you. His expression gave nothing away, and you couldn’t tell if that was because he was unreadable—or because your own nerves were blurring everything.
He just watched. Quietly. Intently.
It felt like he was silently putting you in your place, and you couldn’t help but feel like the dumbest person on the planet.
Like it was some sort of punishment.
You dropped your gaze, letting it settle on the floor, chest tight, cheeks warm. Embarrassed, sure—but also strangely relieved.
Mostly humiliated, though.
Then you heard him shift, pushing off the washing machine. He took a single, measured step toward you.
Your heart jumped.
Another step, and the space between you seemed to shrink faster than it should.
You hoped he wasn’t upset, or that he wouldn’t laugh at you. Maybe he’d just acknowledge it and let things stay… normal.
What did you even want him to say?
One more step.
And suddenly, his presence was undeniable—his feet planted firmly on the ground you’d just been fixated on.
Then, the warmth of a few gentle fingers slid beneath your chin, lifting your gaze to the face of the man they belonged to.
He wasn’t upset. And he wasn’t laughing, either.
Another step brought him closer, and you had no choice but to step back with him—until the backs of your legs pressed against the cold surface of the dryer behind you.
Then his lips were on yours.
Not careful. Not restrained.
Hungry.
You were pushed back against the dryer, the cold metal biting through your clothes while he held you like he’d finally allowed himself to. Your hands fisted into his shirt, grounding yourself against how solid he felt—how real.
Weeks without this, without him touching you like this, had left you unbearably desperate.
“I’m still just a fucking guy, [Y/n],” he muttered against your mouth, barely pulling back before diving in again.
His kisses were relentless, overwhelming in the best way. “You think I don’t look at you and think about what surface to bend you over?” he breathed, voice rough. “M’not really subtle about it.”
The filth he shamelessly spewed made your stomach flutter and the desire for him progressed into more of an undeniable, carnal need.
You could hardly keep up. He was consuming you, and yet your own hunger surged right back at him. You needed this. Needed him.
He pulled back just enough for air, both of you breathing hard. His forehead pressed to yours.
“I’m so fucking into you,” he said, quieter now—but no less intense.
You stared at him, dazed. The part of you that had been spiraling for weeks couldn’t quite compute that this man—this unfairly attractive, infuriatingly self-controlled man—wanted you just as badly.
But the girlfriend in you was still stuck on one thing.
“Then why didn’t you do anything?” you managed, words brushing against his lips.
His jaw tightened slightly, but not in anger. Something steadier.
“Because I wanted you to tell me when you were ready,” he said. “I didn’t want you thinking you had to rush into anything just ‘cause we’re dating.”
You blinked at him. “I’ve been waiting for you to make a move and have your fucking way with me, you idiot.”
His brows lifted slightly, something dark flickering in his eyes, before quietly speaking his next couple words. “Is that what you want?”
Your confidence faltered for half a second.
“…Yes.”
His grip on your waist tightened—not rough, just certain. Like he couldn’t wait to finally get his hands on you.
“Let’s have it my way, then” he murmured, gaze locked on yours.
With that, he kissed you—slow, sweet, and intoxicating enough to make your head spin.
And then he moved.
In one smooth motion, he turned you around, the front of your thighs hitting the dryer with a muted thud as he stepped in close. No rush. No wasted movement. Just the solid heat of him at your spine, boxing you in without effort.
You barely had time to breathe.
His hand slid up, fingers hooking beneath your chin again—this time with unmistakable authority. He tipped your face to the side, angling you exactly where he wanted you.
And then he kissed you again.
Deeper. Slower. Possessive without being reckless. Like he wasn’t trying to overwhelm you—just remind you.
You weren’t going anywhere.
He didn’t waste any time as his other hand started roaming your body.This wasn’t about coaxing you or checking in every second. He decided what you got—and you’d just have to look pretty, take it and be grateful for the attention.
Something hard pressed against the small of your back, and under any other circumstances, you’d have felt a mix of respect and awe at its sheer size—but this wasn’t anything close to normal.
You were frustrated, hungry, greedy, so astronomically down bad for him that seconds seemed to pass like hours—hours he wasn’t sheathed deep inside you, kissing your cervix and making you preach his name over and over again.
You wanted it. Any way he’d give it to you. It really didn’t matter anymore.
His hand tightened on your jaw, tilting your face as his lips met yours with a relentless intensity—just to make you choke on it.
Without warning, his hand reached around and made itself home between your legs—no layer of fabric or lace separating his warm fingers from your needy fantasies.
“Nothing under?”
“Why do youthink I’ve been—fuck—been stuck doing laundry all day?” You tried to reply through unsteady breaths and all sorts of moans and whines.
If all your life boiled down to watching him haul boxes, muscles flexing, tossing casual touches that wrecked you in ways no one else would understand—then yeah, there was no hope left for a single clean pair of underwear.
“Fuck,”the bulge against your back seemed to swell at the feeling of your own desire against the pads of his fingers and your brain fully shut off—your conscious merely running on lust and basic instincts. “You’re so fucking cute like this.”
“Enjin—” you gasped into the kiss, your voice lost between breaths and the weight of him.
He just ignored you, forcing your face against his as he smoothly ran his warm fingers through your folds with no regard for your ability to balance yourself, before immediately dipping into your dripping wet, needy walls.
His fingers curled into you, winding desire and tension into something almost unbearable, repeatedly torturing that spot inside you that made your legs tremble and your heart race miles an hour. No regard for getting you used to anything—solely focused on using you.
“Enjin, it’s s’much, please—“
“I don’t care,” he said against your lips, eyes boring into yours, raw and unrestrained.“you don’t get to ignore me for a week and then expect me to play nice.”
He held your jaw with an iron grip, tilting your face forward and then to the side, exposing your neck. His lips traced the skin, biting and pressing with a heat that promised marks you’d remember.
His assault on your poor body didn’t falter whatsoever, digits pumping in and out of you as if it was their sole goal to make you lose your composure—or your sanity.
“Really want me to fuck you, baby?” he breathed against a fresh mark he sucked into your skin, the pain of it pulsing through your nerves.
You nodded.
His wet fingers slowly drew out of you, only to find their way back to your wanting clit, teasing it with a slow, agonizing pressure that made it oh-so unbearable.
“Words, [Y/n],” he murmured, sinking his teeth into your skin just enough to draw a pathetic whine from you.
The slow, careful tempo of his fingers shattered, replaced by a rapid, unyielding rhythm. Each movement was exact, intentional, and edged with a cold insistence that left your nerves stretched taut.
“Yes,” you breathed, mind hazy, caught in the relentless push and pull of the sharp, consuming sensations he was pressing into you. “I want you… so bad, Enjin. Please.”
“Then be a good fucking girl—” he withdrew his fingers slowly, before pressing them to your lips with a weight that was no invitation, but rather a quiet, undeniable command, “—and get on your knees, yeah?”
You opened your mouth, getting a taste of yourself on his fingers as you sucked them clean of you.
Then, with a swift, controlled motion, he shifted you both, leaning his weight against the dryer as you came to face his already commanding height—a presence that only seemed to grow as you sank to your knees.
He eyed you every inch of the way down, expectantly. And you swore not to let him down today, no matter the cost.
You barely even took the time to process the impressive bulge that you’d felt pressing against your lower back not too long ago, as you loosened the baggy fabric and slid it down by its waistband.
You wanted him—his attention, his touch, and every single inch of him.
And as he finally sprung free from the restraints of his pants, you really couldn’t help but take it in for a moment. At his height, being well-equipped was almost a given… but actually seeing it was a whole different story.
The slight curve of it. The subtle veins that ran along his length.
How fucking hard he was.
There wasn’t a single thought you could summon other than the image of it claiming you in every way imaginable and finally—finally—being allowed to touch him.
With all the care you could summon within you, you reached for it, wrapping a tender hand around his girth and giving him a couple tentative strokes as the most beautiful hiss trickled from his lips.
Then, without further thought, you left an experimental lick on the tip of it, before fully encasing it within the warmth of your mouth.
“There you go,” his fingers threaded through your hair as they found the back of your head, guiding you along the length of him while gently reminding you of the position you were in.
With every stroke, he urged you to take an inch more down your warm and waiting throat—slow and steady, getting both of you used to the feeling of him using your mouth.
Your tongue moved along his soft tip as if it were second nature,taking it deeper as your hands folded neatly in your lap—like the good girl you wanted to be for him.
“Mm, just like that,” his voice dropped, rougher and deeper than you’d ever heard it, as a sinful groan tore from his throat, his grip tightening just slightly in your hair. “You’re so fucking lucky you’re pretty—being way too nice to you right now.”
The salty taste, tinged with something unmistakably Enjin, made you moan around his girth. He fucked your mouth with practiced ease, guiding you up and down his length, your thighs squirming beneath you with every movement.
“Should wear that dress more often,” he said, that slow, teasing smile tugging at his lips. “The view up here is great.”
You felt it—the heat stirring low inside you, crawling up your skin in a slow, insistent way, leaving your mind dizzy and sharp all at once.
Sundresses weren’t your usual HQ attire, but laundry had been put off for so long that this was the only thing left that wasn’t a stained pair of pajamas.
But now, under his gaze, every glance felt like it was marking you, making you intensely aware of yourself in ways that were both intoxicating and terrifying.
It was possibly the skimpiest—bordering on unwearable—piece of clothing you owned.
And yet, all you could think was… if this was enough to make him look at you like that, maybe you’d start wearing dresses a size too small around him more often.
“Wanna impress me, baby?”
You looked up at him all doe eyed, mouth stuffed as you nodded at him through fluttering lashes.
“Mm, so good f’me,” he murmured, his hand brushing your cheek as you leaned into his warmth, before sliding back to the nape of your neck, fingers curling lightly into your hair. “Relax your throat, sweetheart.”
And with that, he gently eased you down his inches, getting the length of him a little wetter with each passing second, your tongue flat against the bottom.
You could feel the restraint in his hand on the back of your head, the patience it took for him not to slam you down and fuck your face in. How he’d again chosen to be merciful—to take care of you the best way he could.
You were starting to feel him at the back of your throat, tip naturally curving along the roof of your mouth as a soft hum escaped you in an attempt to relax your gag reflex.
“Fuck—that’s it,” his hand tightened in your hair as the sensation dragged him deeper into it, keeping you close while the tight warmth around him flexed and pulsed, making him lose himself in the moment.
“Taking me so good, baby—doing such a good job, just f’me.”
At this point, you lost all control over your movements, no longer yours to guide.
You glanced up to see Enjin’s head tipped back, lost in the feeling and revealing a sinfully attractive sight to you that got you all the more worked up—like his strong, inked neck, or his broad, heaving chest—before his gaze dropped back down to catch your own.
“So prettylike this.”
Your legs trembled at his praise, moaning around his dick as your fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs.
All your worries suddenly felt trivial. Every part of you that had felt unwanted now burned under his commanding attention, your pulse stuttering with the weight of his focus on you.
“You restless, baby?” he spoke, readjusting his grip on your hair to better control your movements—like he knew he needed to with what was about to come. “Go ahead—touch yourself.”
Entirely drunk on him, there was barely a moment to feel flustered or embarrassed before your hand obeyed his command, moving as if it had a mind of its own, and disappearing under the frilly hem of your dress.
The warm pads of your fingers came in contact with your now soaked folds, collecting some of the abundance of slick that had accumulated between your legs, before tending to your needy clit and imagining it was his calloused fingers instead.
His hand on you left to hold onto the edge of the dryer instead, as you balanced your own pleasure alongside bobbing your head to please him.
“Patiently waited for dick for so long,” he huffed, watching the length of him disappear in the warm cave of your wanting mouth. “Would never deny my baby anything.”
His hazed expression—knowing that you were the cause of it—pulled at something deep inside you, a thrilling reminder of how utterly yours he was in that moment.
“You really missed me, huh?”
With your neck straining through the motions, you halted to simply focus on his pink tip, sucking on it with your tongue running flatly across, before releasing it from the vacuum of your mouth with a subtle pop and licking him clean of the leaky white streaks you pulled from him.
“Eager girl,”he let out a quiet laugh before his hand gently brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Come back up here, sweetheart.”
With a final, longing kiss to his tip, you rose to your feet—and before you even fully stood, he’d yanked you to stand in front of the dryer, hands flat on the surface of it as you found your balance.
You felt him shift behind you, inching closer as his aura of pure heat hit the skin of the back of your legs. “How about I grant you your wish now, pretty girl?”
“But, Enjin—we can’t, I don’t have a—“
The rustle of plastic filled the room as your boyfriend effortlessly tore open a small square package between his teeth.
“What is it?”
“You just… have condoms on you all the time?”
“No,” a hand ran down your back, gently pushing you forward for you to properly lean on the dryer and support your weight on your forearms instead. “I had it on me, because I figured if you’d ever get around to asking me and I didn’t have one on me I wouldn’t trust myself not to just do you raw.”
“Fuck, that’s kinda hot,”you couldn’t help your remark, back naturally arched in this new position, as the grip of a strong hand on your hip guided you closer to him, before you felt something nudge at the entrance of your fluttering walls.
“Let’s not waste any time then, baby,” his hand reached further into your hip, hooking itself around it for the best grip to pull you into him. “Let’s fuck some sense into you, yeah?”
He said it like it was nothing, but the words sent a shiver crawling all the way down your spine, instinctively backing into him in order for him to finally fill you, though his iron grip on you prevented any sort of control.
“Shit—thinking I don’t want you is the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”
And with that, he’d crossed into annoying-you territory—because you hadn’t endured days of frustration and neglect just for him to poke fun at you now.
“Well, what am I supposed to do if—“
He started inserting himself into you and the world suddenly started spinning, words getting stuck in your throat and sealed with a quiet gasp.
“Much better,” his other hand joined your free hip, effortlessly pulling you down his length with the most sinful groan you’d heard in your life. “Don’t need you to do anything, baby—just need you to look pretty for me right now.”
The feeling was indescribable.
The guy you’d spent weeks waiting for, night after night, imagining, wondering what he’d feel like, was finally there—finally turning your fantasies into something real, right here in this tiny laundry room—and it felt overwhelming in the best way.
It wasn’t something for you to imagine. It was something you could remember.
All the dreams you’ve had absolutely paled in comparison. His strong arms, broad frame, his provocative charm—everything.
It’d turned you on so bad, he slid into you without any effort—inch upon inch exploring the warmth of your clenching walls around him.
“Shit—Enjin—“
“I know, I know,” he cooed, rubbing reassuring patterns on the side of your thigh before moving his hands up to the hem of the dress, lifting it ever so slightly. “You look so good, baby—made to get fucked like this.”
With that, his grip to your hips returned as he bottomed out experimentally, earning him the smallest noise from you, only egging him on further.
He did it again. And again. And again.
You didn’t even know you could make sounds like that—soft, squeaky little hiccups that slipped out of you again and again before you had any chance to swallow them back with each of his thrusts.
“So cute,” he teased. “You’re like a little squish toy.”
“Shut—” hic “—up.”
He let out a quiet huff of laughter that dissolved into a groan, his hands tightening on your hips as he arched your back further into the dryer you clung onto like a lifeline.
It happened so quickly.
A second ago, you were both adjusting to the sensation of him inside you, him just testing the waters and finding a rhythm with you.
The next second, his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips as his pace picks up, fucking into you with a newly summoned force.
And suddenly nothing else mattered—nothing other than the marks he’d leave on your skin, the low grunts that drowned out every other sound in this tiny, tiny laundry room, and the overwhelming feeling of the dam that had been building inside both of you finally breaking.
“Fuck—she’s tight,“ he groaned, keeping you pressed against the cheap dryer that never fully dried your clothes—though in that moment, you’d never been more grateful for the damn thing. “This what you wanted, baby?”
“Yes—fuck—please, Enjin—“
He thrust in. And in. And again. And while you were certain you could die from this, you also knew you’d never felt more alive than right now.
And no matter how desperate sex over an old, half-broken dryer might seem, you felt how much affection was in the way his hands caressed your skin, how honeyed his voice resonated with his sweet words towards you, with every time he called you pretty and praised your efforts.
“Taking me so well, baby,” he said through hoarse grunts and hot breaths. “Y’feel so good.”
Any reply from you was caught between hitched noises, in sync with every time your body was pressed further into the machine beneath you.
You were burning like you’d never burned before, the heat especially concentrated in that tight knot in your stomach, coiling tighter with every passing second.
And every second felt as long as a lifetime.
It was a sweet kind of torture—chasing a release you didn’t really want to reach. Pleasure you’d waited far too long for, your desire not nearly sated enough to let it end so soon. Yet any attempt to slow it down would only dilute the bliss he was giving you.
“Tell me whose you are, baby.”
“M’yours—fuck—only yours.”
“Damn right.”
You tried to ignore the feeling of him, to think of anything else—anything to distract yourself. But it wouldn’t be fair. Not to him, and certainly not to you.
“You’re mine and I’m yours, angel.”
The way he found those places within you far exceeded any daydream you’d ever struggled to shake. The way he held your hips, the way he made you give in—but not surrender entirely—guiding you with that quiet, commanding presence of his.
“Please—please, Enjin.”
“Such a good fucking girl.”
It dawned on you then that this was how he’d always been—or at least for as long as you’d known him as the leader of his team. Not the kind of man who demanded respect or fed his ego, but someone who simply drew it in. Someone you trusted enough to follow.
“I—“ you stammered. “I’m getting—“
“I know, baby,” he cooed, big hands readjusting their grip on your sweat-sticky hips. “Me too.”
“I don’t wanna stop.”
He huffed a small laugh through an exhaled breath.
“Me neither, baby,” his pace grew more relentless, every syllable stuttering to the rhythm of his thrusts, room filled with the sounds of your bodies moving against one another, “but it won’t be the last time.”
The knot strung tighter and tighter as stars began decorating your blurry vision and all you could think was Enjin Enjin Enjin.
“Can fuck you whenever you want, yeah?”
“Yes—please.”
“Just gotta ask, pretty girl.”
“Fuck me tomorrow?”
Another short-breathed laugh.
“Anything you want, angel.”
And with that, the coil snapped and the weight of all breaths you didn’t take came crushing down on you—body, spirit and soul.
You felt yourself clench and tighten around him as he chased his own release along that same edge of pleasure, low grunts slipping from him in that voice you’d come to find so irresistibly charming, carrying you through your high.
“Fuck—[Y/n],” he moaned, thrusting into you with one final push and holding you right there.
“So fucking perfect.”
And with that, he pressed you close, relishing in his own pleasure with a low exhale that sent a hot shiver down your spine. He moved lazily a couple more times to ride out his release, drawing soft whimpers from you with each motion.
And—finally—pulling out.
You took your time coming back to your senses as he traced a few affectionate strokes along the bare skin of your thighs. Then you heard him shifting behind you—the quiet sounds of him putting himself back together, fabric rustling, zippers pulling, a buckle fastening into place.
All the while, you remained half-splayed over the dryer, slowly grounding yourself again, catching your breath as your heart rate began to settle.
And then, as if you’d never been bent over that dryer in the first place, he took your arm and turned you toward him, swiftly lifting your weight and gently setting you atop the surface he’d just had you over. He stood between your legs, holding you by the waist like he knew you couldn’t quite keep yourself steady yet.
And he kissed you.
So heartbreakingly gentle and sweet that it almost didn’t match what had just passed between you—before he slowly pulled away.
“You’re the most beautiful, irresistible, smartest girl I’ve met in my entire life—and I’ll be damned if I ever make you feel like anything less, okay?”
His golden eyes bore into you, and it was one of those rare moments with him that you cherished—when he didn’t hide behind cheshire grins or flirty humor. It was just him, speaking his mind, being genuine.
Reassuring you that he felt that thing between you—whatever word you hadn’t put on it yet. And you knew you felt it too.
“Okay…” Your hands snaked around his neck for extra support as you held his gaze, getting lost in the lines of his face and how they’d been touched by what you’d just done. His skin flushed pink. His eyes hazed with lingering heat.
The warmth radiating off him pulled you in before you even realized it, your limbs wrapping around him to cage him in a lazy embrace. Your head rested atop his strong shoulder as his arms circled your frame, his nose nuzzling into the nape of your neck.
“You’re not so bad yourself, you know?” You muffled into the red fabric of his shirt.
“Don’t be too nice to me right now,” he chuckled against your skin, “my ego is high off of all the please, Enjin, please—“
Your flat palm hit the back of his head.
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“Hey, Enjin?”
“Hm?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot, baby.”
“Why did you ask me out?”
A beat passed, as he stared off into nothingness, barely grasping his resolve to continue on.
“Well,” he began. “How do I put this without sounding weird?”
“Huh?”
He sighed, before turning to you with honest eyes.
“So, when August made you that… uniform…”
─────────୨ৎ─────────
CREDIT TIME☆*:.｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆
Beautiful, talented, intelligent, amazing BETA READERS: @zukunyy , @imjusttrashignoreme and my boyfriend <3
Dividers: @pixopix
A/N: ITS HERE !!!! I TOOK SO LONG BECAUSE IDK WHY—BUT THANK U SOOOOO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE ON TOBACCO&MINT!!! <3
This won’t be my last Enjin fic—bro attached himself to my spirit so bad i literally got a whole ass back tattoo two weeks ago…
I have a couple more idea for Enjin and it dawned on me that I could make all my established relationship ideas just be part of this series, so that’s probably gonna happen eventually as well :3
I’ll probably also explore some other fandoms :3
ENJIN 4EVER THO<3
I was rlly happy that a couple of you liked it so much u asked me to be on the taglist :3 extra thank u to u guys who asked to be tagged 🩷 made my heart go jumpy mode
SYNOPSIS Enjin didn’t know you were hiding all that under your somewhat baggy cleaner‘s uniform until one day August gets a new whiff of inspiration to cook you up the possibly hottest uniform among the cleaners yet.
CONTENT nsfw / fluff / sexual tension / porn with plot / resolved sexual tension / mutual pining / slow burn / friends to lovers / coworkers to lovers / service top!enjin / praise kink / submissive reader / cursing / oral f!receiving / fingering / sadist!enjin if you squint
A couple cigarettes. The rush of tearing a trash beast apart piece by piece. The relief of a joint right after. Hitting up his favorite local spots at the end of a workday, surrounding himself with gorgeous women who couldn’t deny the fact that he, too, was quite the specimen himself.
Simple.
Once you joined the Cleaners, he’d been ecstatic to finally share the burden that was being in your twenties while babysitting a bunch of brain-wrecked teenagers.
For the first time in a while, he had room to breathe—time to indulge, and not just in stolen moments.
He could prep joints at night for the next day. Take long baths. Hook up with strangers. Stumble back home high out of his mind at bonkers hours in the morning.
He wasn’t above sharing his pleasures, either. He’d invite his adult coworkers to go out with him from time to time.
Gris usually took him up on it if his day had been particularly rough—especially after some heavy trash-beast ass-kicking.
Semiu, on the other hand, decided on a whim whether she felt like tagging along or not.
As for Zanka, Enjin was already looking forward to the day he’d be old enough to become a potential drinking buddy. Fingers crossed.
He’d even invited you along a couple of times as well, only to learn—pretty quickly—that you were more of a domestic soul. You liked taking care of yourself in your room during your spare time, doing chores, sticking to your own quiet routines and little rituals.
You spent a good chunk of your time tending to your vital instrument. Other than that, you just… existed among the residents. Easy. Steady. Reliable.
He exhaled slowly, letting the tensions of the day roll off him as his thoughts drifted towards the night ahead, an unlit cigarette sitting between his lips. The places he might go, the people he might see, the things he might do.
His steps echoed through the atmosphere of low humming halls. It was easy to slip into autopilot, leave monotone routine behind—as monotone as his job could get, really— and trade it all for the simple pleasures waiting outside.
Enjin had already clocked out in his head. Cigarette, street air, somewhere loud—he was halfway there when August’s voice tore through the hall.
“IT’S DONE! HAHA! I DID IT!”
Enjin stopped. Clicked his tongue. Figures. Nothing out of the ordinary. He put his foot in front of the other.
Then August yelled your name.
The lighter stayed in Enjin’s pocket. Instinctively, he turned back around to watch the scene unfold in front of him.
You appeared like you always did — clothes draping over you like they were just a size too big, hair half-tamed (much like you).
Mildly tired, mildly irritated, yet entirely unbothered by the chaos that was August himself. He leaned back against the doorframe behind him, eyes following the way you yanked the fabric out of August’s hands.
“On my fucking life,” you groaned. “Why’re you yelling? M’right here.”
“Wow, you’re so fun and energized,” Enjin chimed in, as sarcastic as he was relaxed.
You shot him a look — flat, unimpressed. He grinned anyway, like he’d just won a prize, or something. “You asked for a new uniform?”
“Not really,”—you held the clothes up to get an impression—“he just said he’d make me one ‘cause he felt inspired, so I let him.”
He couldn’t help but notice the fabric of the new uniform— or rather, the lack thereof.
Enjin then realized, distantly, that he’d never really thought about what you looked like under your layers of much too oversized clothes.
The sweaters swallowed you whole, the pants hung low and loose, and somewhere along the line his brain had filed you away as safe. Familiar.
Not something to think about.
“August,” you said, turning the scraps of fabric over in your hands, brows knitting together, “are you sure this is for me? This is so not what I’d usually wear.”
Enjin almost agreed out loud. Almost. It didn’t match you—not the way he knew you, anyway.
You were all soft edges and practical comfort, huge sleeves and borrowed pants, a presence that blended into the space instead of demanding it. This thing looked like it wanted to be noticed.
He should’ve written it off right there, should’ve sided with you and moved on. Instead, he found himself staring a second longer than necessary, curiosity gnawing at him in a way that felt unfamiliar. He wanted—unexpectedly—to see it on you.
Wanted to know what August had seen that he hadn’t. The thought settled in his chest, stubborn, yet not entirely unwelcome.
Enjin was a simple man.
“Are you doubting the gear genius?” He teasingly tilted his head.
“Yeah? How dare you?” August scoffed.
You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I’m not doubting anyone. I’m just saying—this doesn’t really look like something I’d wear.”
August waved you off, already vibrating with confidence. “Just try it on.”
You hesitated for half a second before nodding. “Give me a minute.”
And just like you’d seemed to appear out of nowhere, you were gone again the very next second. The door to your room clicked shut.
Enjin didn’t realize he’d been watching until August lightly elbowed his side, muttering to himself about unique stitching, unmatched genius, and a true artistic vision needing proper time to take shape.
Adjusting his weight against the doorframe, Enjin finally lit the cigarette that had been resting between his lips.
Huh, weird.
He’d seen people change before—hell, had undressed people before, had just been about to go out and find someone to undress again. None of this should have registered.
And yet.
Seconds ticked by, and his mind counted them anyway.
He took a drag. Exhaled. Then did it again. The burned-down bud at the tip of the cigarette fell to the floor in what felt like slow motion.
He shifted again, cigarette now between his fingers, trying to convince himself that now could be the time follow through with his original plan: go out, fool around, return at some ridiculous hour. No obligations. No reason to stick around.
So why weren’t his feet moving?
His gaze drifted toward your closed door. For the briefest moment, he imagined what it might look like. Immediately, he shook his head. He really never thought of you this way.
And yet.
The thought lingered. The thought of you—any way other than your usual comforting, gentle, easy self—refused to disappear. He heard the soft shuffle and toss of clothing behind the door until all that remained was quiet nothing.
He couldn’t lie to himself. He was curious. Whatever pleasures waited outside weren’t going anywhere, and he was entertained enough right where he was—so why force it?
There was no rush. No harm in sticking around a little longer. If nothing else, it gave him an excuse to annoy you about it later.
Another drag. Another exhale. The cigarette was now less than half its original length. A few more inches fell to the floor, slow, unimportant, meaningless.
The lock of your door clicked. And it mattered so much, for some reason.
Enjin’s head tilted, cigarette now forgotten between his lips. He imagined your last couple motions behind that door— a careful tug at a new hem, flatting a creased surface of the fabric, adjusting the fit and drape of certain places. Your hands moving along yourself in a familiar fashion.
Your hands moving along yourself.
And that was new. In spite of all the trouble he usually got up to, he’d never thought of you as a woman before. Not once.
Then, you stepped out.
The uniform fit differently than he expected. On its own, it wasn’t flashy, or anything, but it conformed to your shape in a way that made it undeniable. Attention-seeking. And you…
You made it look effortless.
The seams traced your lines perfectly, moving and folding with you in one fluid motion as if the fabric had been waiting for you.
The uniform was stripped down, tight, and sharp. The skirt hugged your hips, short enough to catch the eye without feeling ridiculous. It was tasteful.
The top clung to your torso in a way that left neither room for more fabric, nor for imagination.
Over it, the cropped jacket—Cleaners’ emblem bold across the back—fit snugly, following your every movement without losing its structure.
And the boots—chunky, scuffed, ready for anything—grounded you in a way that made the whole thing feel both dangerous and effortless.
And what shouldn’t have mattered suddenly mattered so much. Because, fuck… you were hot.
Every little shift you made—a tilt of your head, a small tug at the hem, the way the fabric moved with you—kept catching his attention. He bit the inside of his cheek. Ain’t no way you’d been burying all that under those layers.
And yet.
Something in him knew better. Your figure fit the style of the uniform perfectly. Natural. Balanced. Built in all the right places. That shouldn’t matter. And still, it did. His pulse ticked a little faster, and he kind of hated that he noticed.
What he was most shocked to have to face was the fact that you were pretty much exactly what he imagined whenever he thought of an ideal type.
His lungs tightened. Not from desire—at least, not fully. Fascination, awareness, intrigue—all tangled together. The version of you he’d filed away as “safe, familiar” no longer fit. Something was… different.
You glanced at him, eyebrows raised, waiting for judgment. Approval. Anything.
He exhaled slowly, smoke he’d forgotten in his lungs curling upwards past his curious eyes. “Fits,” he said, voice low and casual, as though he was trying to convince himself he hadn’t been holding his breath for the past couple seconds.
You blinked, then tilted your head to look down at yourself. “Yeah… I guess so.”
Neither of you moved. The hall felt quieter, smaller, like any sudden movement could cause him to bump into you. August had gone silent as well, half inspecting his work, half sensing the shift in the air without caring to pinpoint the energy.
Whether or not you had realized it, that was up for debate.
Enjin took another long drag. Exhaled. Hoping the smoke would create a barrier between him and your form.
It was then, that he realized it wasn’t just the uniform that mattered. It was the subtle shift in you, the way you carried yourself differently, the unfamiliar side of you quietly asserting itself—and him noticing, no pretending otherwise.
Your back straightened, chest lifted ever so slightly—oh, fuck—and the natural sway of your hips whenever you shifted your weight had him chasing after his own breath.
“Honestly,” you spoke, smoothing the fabric of your skirt over your hips, “I thought this would be uncomfortable, but… it’s really not. I do actually like it.”
“TOLD YA! I’M A GENIUS!” August screamed, dancing with wild pride.
Enjin couldn’t help but simply stare. An involuntary smirk grazed his features. “Yeah… you are a genius.”
He was a simple man with simple needs.
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By the time the last trash beast went down, you’d forgotten what it felt like to wear anything else.
Given the nature of your fighting, bruises were inevitable—something you hadn’t even considered when you first received the outfit. Now, black-and-blue marks bloomed along your legs, stretching from mid-thigh all the way down.
It was a sight quite familiar to you, the difference being that—with your new uniform— it was visible to everyone around you as well.
You were going to have to do something about that.
The adrenaline hadn’t quite worn off yet. Your limbs buzzed from all the movement, body feeling hot and fuzzy. You shifted your weight from one leg to the other in pursuit of some sort of relief for each limb.
And in spite of all your movements, the pieces of clothing hadn’t shifted in any unwanted way. No hems to adjust, no creases to smooth over. Nothing. The uniform didn’t just cling to your body—it practically felt molded to your physique.
You hadn’t had to think about it once during the fight, which, honestly, was the highest compliment you could pay to the resident “gear genius” who had so carefully tailored it to your needs.
You glanced over at Enjin, who seemed to be in a similar state as you. Chest heaving, skin dusted with the thinnest layer of sweat and grime.
He leaned back slightly, the ever-present teasing grin tugging at his lips—a feature that somehow only grew more pronounced after a good fight at the edge of the No Man’s Lands.
He put most of his weight onto his dear umbrella as his gaze flickered towards your form. You caught it flicking down for a split second—a questioning twitch in his lip, a curious squint of his eye—and then back up.
“Don’t start,” you said, already anticipating a comment about the state of your legs.
“Wasn’t gonna,” he replied easily, his hands up in defense and then catching Umbreaker just in time before it fell over. Then, after a beat, “You took quite a hit back there, though.”
“Well,” you looked down to properly inspect the spots this time. The bruises blossomed mostly in the areas around and on your knees, though your shins weren’t exempt of the hues of color. Frankly, it looked like it usually did. “Comes with the job.”
“Huh,” his gaze flickered down again, lingering long enough for you to take note of it. “You always bruise like that?”
“Pretty much?” You responded, putting one leg behind the other, as if it was going to do anything to hide it. “Legs usually take the worst of it.”
“Figures.” he responded, lifting a joint to his lips—his habitual celebration joint, as you’ve come to learn about him.
His attention to your legs lingered just a second longer than you’d expected it to, before focusing on lighting the end of the blunt with his lighter.
“You know,” he teased as the fire finally caught, then dropping his lighter back in his pocket, “the amount you bruise in a day feels like the amount I take in like, what, two weeks?”
“Wow, you’re so cool for that,” you shot back—unimpressed, sarcastic. “Is this your way of telling me to be more careful?”
“Nah,” he smirked, taking a drag of his joint and exhaling the smoke, a relaxed groan escaping along with it. “You handle yourself just fine.”
That earned him a look. “High praise.”
“Don’t get used to it.” he retorted, a challenging expression adorning his sharp features.
“Aw, why not?” You finally took a moment to stretch.
Hands pressed together, you reached overhead, trying to ease the tension built up in your back during the fight. Even as you moved, you couldn’t help but notice the hem of your top riding up just slightly—enough to follow your motion comfortably, never restrictive, never bothersome.
It was honestly impressive.
When your arms dropped back to your sides, you caught the faintest flicker of movement out of the corner of your eye—and for a moment, it felt like Enjin’s gaze was still following you. Just for a heartbeat, though.
“What’s up with you today?”
“Huh?” A cloud of smoke tore through his lips. “What do you mean?”
“You’re, like, looking at me all the time,” you said, resting a hand on your hip. “What’s up with that?”
“I’m not.” He scoffed, taking another drag, huffing little smoke circles and watching them disappear into the air.
You rolled your eyes. “You are, though.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You totally are.”
“Yeah,” he admitted, shooting you a hopelessly charming smile, eyes shamelessly flicking down and back up your figure. “Maybe a bit.”
Unfortunately for you, his charms didn’t leave you entirely unaffected.
You couldn’t help it. Anyone with working eyes knew exactly that Enjin was the unfortunate epitome of attraction.
The sharp line of his jaw catching the light as he tilted his head, the way smoke curled lazily from his lips, forming all sorts of organic shapes before vanishing into the air.
The collar of his shirt revealing the ink nestled underneath his skin, curving alongside his neck, giving him this edge that somehow fit that permanent teasing expression he always wore.
You shook your head slightly, trying to tell yourself it didn’t mean anything. But your pulse had its own opinion, quickening with the small, easy awareness of him in front of you.
But no. This guy was more than likely carrying a choker filled to the brim with booty calls. There was no reason for him to be paying you that kind of attention, especially since he usually didn’t.
Something you’d always been painfully aware of, to your dismay.
“Whatever,” you muttered, more to yourself than him. “Can you drive?”
“Why?” he grinned. “‘Cause your legs are busted?”
“You’re so funny today,” you mustered the most obnoxious fake-laugh you were capable of. “No, genius. I’m asking, because you’re high.”
“That would certainly be a valid concern,”—he took another taunting drag—“if you weren’t talking to me right now.”
“Silly me,”you said, not-so-subtle sarcasm yet to unlace from your voice. “No, but really.”
You walked past him toward the off-roader, unable to hide the little bounce in your step—half from the lingering adrenaline still coursing through your veins, half from the excitement you felt at the prospect of returning back to your base—home.
Heavy steps followed you until you both slid into the vehicle, him in the driver’s seat.
“I’ve done wilder things stoned,” he scoffed, playfully rolling his eyes as he inserted the key into the ignition.
“Like what?” You asked, getting comfortable in your seat.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“You’re so insufferable sometimes.” you sighed, shooting him a displeased look. “Just focus on the road.”
He smiled, eyes meeting yours as if to admit guilt. “No promises.”
His fingers moved quickly over the keys, firing up the engine before shifting gears and getting the car rolling.
“Buckle up, princess,” he said. “Just ‘cause your legs are bruised doesn’t mean I’ll be slowing down any time soon.”
The little nickname definitely didn’t go unnoticed by you—as well as the double innuendo, which wasn’t out of the ordinary for him—though you felt too something to really comment on it.
“Don’t you worry about my legs,” you shot back, trying for a casual tone. “Not like I’m made of sugar or something.”
He smirked to himself, taking a last long drag of the joint before flicking it out the window. “Good to know.”
You caught him muttering something under his breath—more to himself than to you—but decided to let it slide. Your pulse still hadn’t quite settled—whether that was from the fight or due to certain body-modded men within your vicinity was something you chose not to worry about— and honestly, you didn’t really feel like picking fights, anyway.
The motor rumbled beneath you as the off-roader stumbled over the uneven ground of the No Man’s Land, gradually leaving the chaos behind. The road began to flatten with each passing mile, though the ride already felt surprisingly smooth—especially considering it was Enjin behind the wheel right now.
You kept your hands folded in your lap. Your gaze kept wandering between the trash-ridden landscape — a rather unpleasant sight — and, of course, him — an admittedly rather pleasant side.
Despite every warning you’d given yourself, despite every attempt to keep your guard up, he slipped past it effortlessly. He didn’t need your consent to get under your skin—and you couldn’t really help letting him, either. He was just good at getting people’s guard down—at least among the Cleaners.
Or maybe it was just you.
Your gaze drifted back to him, more often than you cared to admit. His side profile looked sharper and even more defined against the warm rays of a setting sun kissing his dirt-ridden skin.
It was honestly a bit annoying how attractive he was.
You mentally traced the patterns of the tattoos disappearing beneath the nick of his shirt, wondering about the way they might continue. Your focus drifted towards the flex of his strong hands on the wheel, covered in similar shapes—how did they curl under his sleeves?
You shifted in your seat, throwing one leg over the other, and felt the faint sting of bruises along the length of your legs. Nothing severe, but enough to remind you that your fight hadn’t been gentle.
You flexed them subtly under the skirt of your uniform, partly to stretch, partly out of curiosity, playing a quiet game of “how long before it hurts too much”. Of course, it never got to that point. It’s just some light bruising.
He glanced at you then, out of the corner of his eye, and his smirk widened just slightly, like he knew about the silly game you were playing in your head to entertain yourself. A small quirk of his eyebrow, a tilt of the head—it was enough to make your chest tighten, though you pretended (miserably) to focus on your legs instead.
“So,” he said, voice casual but teasing, “you planning on sitting there looking broody all the way back, or are we gonna talk?”
You let out a soft breath, shoulders sinking into the seat. “I’ll be honest… I’m kind of tired.”
“I was wondering when you’d say that.” His tone softened, the teasing thinning out. “You can sleep, if you wanna. I’ll wake your ass at HQ.”
“Mm,” you hummed, eyelids already heavier than you’d realized. “Sounds good.”
“I’ll wake you up good,” he added lightly. “Get Delmon to hose you down.”
One eye cracked open. “Okay. I’m not sleeping.”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “I’m kidding.” A pause. Then, softer, more genuine: “I’ll wake you up real gentle. Promise. Get some rest.”
The hum of the engine filled the space between you. The road stretched ahead, steady and uneventful.
You shifted slightly, adjusting against the seat, legs stretching out a little more carefully this time. Your head tipped back. The exhaustion wasn’t dramatic — just the slow kind that settled into your bones after a long day.
You felt it before you saw it — his hand adjusting the climate dial so the air wouldn’t blow directly at you. The smallest thing. Almost nothing.
But not nothing.
Your eyes fluttered closed.
The last thing you registered was the faint sound of him muttering under his breath — something about how easily you wear yourself out — and the way the vehicle seemed to move just a little smoother than before.
You were asleep before you even realized it.
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The common area was louder than usual—music bleeding from a battered speaker, empty bottles clustering along the tables, the air thick with smoke and laughter. Someone had dragged out a deck of cards, another group arguing loudly over rules that changed every five minutes.
Enjin fit right into it.
He leaned back in his chair, one arm slung over the backrest, a drink balanced loosely in his hand as he laughed along with the others. Easy. Relaxed. This was familiar territory—post-mission chaos, shared exhaustion, celebration for still being alive. The kind of environment he absolutely thrived in.
His eyes roamed the room in a moment that was supposed to be all about appreciating his weird, little family.
And then, they stopped.
You hadn’t made any sort of announcement. No dramatic pause, no random attempt at drawing attention. You just slipped into the room like you always did— quiet, familiar, reliable.
His gaze flickered down before he could stop himself.
The uniform sat on you as disgustingly well as it always did. Skirt hugged you too well, top accentuated your physique, jacket hung loose over your shoulders, sleeves slinging in the air.
He had just gotten somewhat used to seeing you this way. It was supposed to be safe. It should have been safe.
You chose trouble today.
It wasn’t the uniform that threw him off.
It was what you added.
Dark fabric hugged your legs beneath the skirt, reaching high enough to erase the bruises he knew were there. Practical. Sensible.
That, somehow, made it worse.
He knew why you were wearing them. A part of him basked in the fact that he was probably the only person here that knew why you were wearing them, that this was your attempt at hiding your bruises. And, somehow, knowing what it looked like underneath made it that much more… intimate?
Not to mention the way that the plush of your legs perfectly spilled over the hem of the fabric, which was the best part about these types of socks, anyway.
But this was you. Cozy, unchanging, reliable you.
With a single addition to your work attire, you’d managed to take it from blurring the lines of professionalism to… well, overstepping them entirely. At least, in his eyes.
He couldn’t tell if he minded or not. Or he just couldn’t admit the truth to himself.
The card game, the drink in his hand, the music running in the background—all of it faded as he took his sweet time observing you.
He eased back into the loveseat he was occupying, spreading his long legs like he owned the space, as if waiting for you was the most natural thing in the world.
You greeted a few people, checked on the kids at the children’s table, but never seemed to settle in one spot.
And so, he called your name before he could stop himself.
Your head snapped toward him, eyes locking with his as you made your way to the poker table.
“Hey there,” you greeted, arms loosely crossed.
“Hi,” he replied, flashing that infuriating grin. “Sit down. We could use another player.” He shifted over, leaving just enough space for you to slide in, and you did—probably closer than you’d expected—after greeting everyone at the table.
His hand draped over the back of the two-seater, half-encasing your frame. His legs stretched, one brushing the side of your thigh, claiming the space with casual confidence, yet leaving enough for you.
“So… what are we playing?” you asked, voice light, like you were trying not to notice the proximity.
“It’s called Bluffing,” he said, eyes flicking toward you briefly. “Basically, the deck is evenly split among the four of us and we have to place cards in order of Ace to King facedown. The catch: You won’t always have the right card at the right turn.”
“Ah,” you murmured as you took the drink from his hand and sipped, the weight of his gaze lingering on you. “So—you’re gonna have to bluff.”
“Right,” he replied, brow quirking just slightly. “You can place in multiples, though. If you gotta place an Ace and you have two on your hand, you can place both.”
“I see,” you replied, voice casual and airy. “How do you win? Or lose?”
“Oh, yeah—anyone can call a bluff at any point. If you’re right, the person who bluffed gets the entire pile on the table. If you’re wrong, you need to take the pile,” he responded. “Whoever has no cards left wins. You’ll get the hang of it.”
He leaned back slightly, letting his arm drape lazily over the loveseat, the movement deliberate, stretching closer to you without touching… yet. The proximity was ridiculous, and he knew it, and of course, so did you.
He could feel the subtle brush of your leg against his, hear the faint shift as you adjusted your seat, the way your hand lingered on the drink he’d gotten himself.
His mind did a quick double-take, because… damn. You smelled good. Closer than he’d ever been, and now it was impossible to ignore.
Enjin reached for the full deck on the table, shuffling it, before he split the cards evenly between the four of you, movements smooth and practiced. Cards slid across the table in neat stacks.
“Alright,” he said, glancing around. “Who’s got the Ace of Hearts?”
Everyone checked their hand.
A beat.
“I do.”
His eyes flicked up immediately.
Of course you did.
“Then—you start.”
He leaned back, watching from the corner of his eye as you looked down at your cards. You took just a second too long. Your lips pressed together, like you were holding back a smile.
That was new.
You placed a card face-down.
“Ace of Hearts.”
He didn’t even hesitate.
“Bluff.”
The word came easy. Calm. Certain.
Bro snorted. “Already?”
You turned toward him slowly. “You don’t even know what I put down.”
He tilted his head, studying you openly now. “Don’t need to.”
It wasn’t about the card.
It was the way you sat a little straighter. The way your fingers lingered on the edge of the card a fraction too long. The almost imperceptible satisfaction in your eyes.
You were asking for it, really.
“Flip it,” Delmon urged.
You held Enjin’s gaze for half a second—a silent challenge—before turning the card over.
Six of Hearts.
Bro burst out laughing.
Enjin didn’t. He just smiled—slow and smug—because… well, there it was.
“I knew it,” he said quietly.
“You didn’t know anything.” You rolled your eyes.
He huffed a low laugh. Then, using the arm that wasn't draped casually behind you, he reached down and lightly poked a spot on your leg he knew was bruised. You yelped, just enough to make him grin wider.
Meanwhile, he couldn't help but savor the fact that he was the only one who knew what your legs looked like beneath the thigh highs. It was his way of telling you that—at least in split second—you belonged to him.
“I know you.”
You muttered something under your breath as you took your card back, clearly annoyed—but not really.
“Alright,” he said, settling back again. “Go on.”
You drew in a breath, adjusted your grip on your cards, and this time when you placed one down, your expression was steady. Almost neutral.
“Ace of Hearts—for real this time.”
He watched you carefully.
No lingering. No spark. No tiny flare of pride.
Just calm.
He held the silence for a second longer than necessary—just to make you feel it.
“Alright. Continue.”
Delmon cracked his knuckles. “Two.”
He placed two cards down in a neat stack. No hesitation. No theatrics.
Bro eyed him briefly, but didn’t bite.
“Three,” Bro said next, tossing one card onto the pile with a lazy flick of his wrist.
Stil, no one called anything.
Then it was Enjin’s turn.
He looked down at his hand. The next number was four.
He just so happened to have two.
A small part of him considered holding one back for the next cycle.
He didn’t.
He slid both cards into the center. Calm. Clean.
“Two fours.”
He didn’t look at Delmon.
He didn’t look at Bro.
He looked at you.
Your fingers were still resting on your cards. But he saw it — that tiny shift in your posture. The way your shoulders squared. The way your eyes flicked to the pile and then back to him.
You were thinking. Good.
He leaned back slightly, arm still draped along the seat behind you.
“You gonna call it?” he asked lightly.
Delmon scoffed. “Here we go.”
Enjin ignored him.
His gaze stayed on you—not challenging. Just steady.
He wasn’t bluffing. But he almost hoped you thought he was.
For the most part, you upheld the eye-contact—eyes flicking towards the cards in his hand from time to time, as if questioning the legitimacy of them.
“I wanted to,” you murmured, eyes flicking toward him, wary, “but… now that you want me to call it, I won’t.”
Enjin huffed a laugh.
“Fair enough. Your turn.”
You placed your three cards with a smile. “Five.”
Delmon’s brow furrowed as he eyed the pile.
“Bluff,” he finally muttered, leaning forward, elbows now resting on his knees.
You blinked, keeping your expression calm. “Oh?”
Enjin watched from his spot, leaning back slightly, arm still stretched behind you, smirk tugging at his lips. He didn’t need to see your cards to know what was coming.
“You sure about that?” Enjin asked lightly, just loud enough for the table to hear. His voice carried a teasing edge, though he kept his own cards close.
Delmon hesitated for a heartbeat, then nodded. “What are the odds of having three fives on your hand? I’m calling it.”
You flipped your first card — five. Then the second — five. And the third… five.
It was true.
Delmon froze, eyes widening as realization hit. “Huh?”
You leaned slightly toward the center of the table, a faint, triumphant smile tugging at your lips, sliding the small pile towards him. “There you go.”
Enjin’s gaze lingered on you, amusement and something warmer flickering in his chest. You weren’t even aware of the way you’d slid closer, your side almost fully pressed against him.
He felt a soft nudge against his chest — your shoulder lightly stabbing into him. He didn’t move. He could feel the warmth radiating from you, the faint brush of your side against his, and the subtle weight of your presence.
He looked down at you, catching your eyes before you looked away. The next second, you muttered something under your breath, too faint to carry over the pounding bass from the speakers. Enjin might have only noticed because—well—he'd just been looking at your lips anyway.
An idea struck him.
As if the proximity weren't already enough, he inched closer, letting his body press lightly against yours as he
leaned down, silently signaling that you should repeat yourself.
His arm draped over you more than it did over the seat, head tilted ever so slightly as his gaze locked with
yours, faces just inches apart—a challenge you were doomed to fail. He caught the brief flicker of your eyes
down toward his lap, though you didn't pull back.
He caught your gaze again, right as your pretty lips began to part. “I just asked if we start from ace again,” you spoke, almost in a whisper.
“No,” he replied, voice casual, but he couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. “Next is six.”
You fit against him perfectly, your frame settling into the dip of the cushions at his side, curves aligning just so. You seemed comfortable there, either unaware of how close you’d slipped toward him or simply finding it as natural as he did.
Everyone eyes shifted to Delmon now that it was his turn. He placed one card down. “Six.”
Right after, Bro laid down a seven. Supposedly.
The turn circled back to him.
Enjin looked at his hand. Not a single eight. It was time to bluff. No big deal.
He slid two cards into the pile, careful, measured. “Eight,” voice calm, almost casual. Not rushed, not nervous—just like always. He let his gaze flick toward you out of the corner of his eye. The way you were watching him, that slight narrowing of your eyes.
“Bluff,” you said, quiet, steady, like it wasn’t a guess—like you already knew.
He froze just for a fraction of a second, more amused than concerned.
“You think so?” he murmured lightly, leaning into the seat a little more. Not defensive. Not worried. Just curious what you’d do.
You held his gaze, unwavering. Calm. Confident.
Enjin exhaled slowly, sliding the pile toward himself. “Alright, fine,” he said under his breath, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “You got me.”
He was just flattered to know you’d watched him so intently.
“Damn,” Bro sighed, hand on the back of his neck. “You guys are really good at this.”
Enjin hums. “Yeah,” he says. “Something like that.”
Minutes passed, then stretched into what felt like hours. The pile grew steadily, now close to a quarter of the deck, and no one could afford to lose. Yet somehow, bluffs hadn’t been called in forever.
“You’re taking forever,” you groaned, tapping your cards lightly, fidgeting.
“I’m thinking,” he replied evenly, though the tiniest twitch of a smile betrayed him.
“Thinking about what—bluffing?”
“Wanna call it? I dare you.”
He glanced at his cards, then back at you, then back at his hand, before cautiously sliding a ten onto the ever-growing pile.
“One king.”
It was intense.
“You’ve got to be lying, man!” Delmon exclaimed, eyes fixed on the pile as if staring harder would reveal the truth.
“Okay, call it then. See what happens.” His empty threat earned groans all around—Bro rubbing his forehead in frustration, Delmon gripping his knees like he needed an anchor. And you… still. Too still. Still in a tense way, like you were frozen in time.
He didn’t know if it was reflex, instinct, or just a quiet urge, but his hand had started tracing lazy shapes along your shoulder. You seemed to relax into it, even if only slightly, and he was quietly glad to be of some comfort.
It also seemed to distract you from the game, which was a bonus.
It was your turn now. The pile demanded an Ace.
You picked a card and slid it onto the pile, voice even, airy. “An Ace.”
His eyes narrowed just slightly. He could tell.
The way your fingers lingered on the card before letting it go, the tiny pause in your voice, the way your gaze flicked to him and then quickly away—you weren’t enjoying the lie as much as you should have been.
He considered calling it. Just for a moment.
But he couldn’t bring himself to let the pile crash down on you.
He leaned back just slightly, letting his gaze rest on you for a beat longer than necessary, noting the faint lift of your chest as you exhaled, and the subtle tension easing from your shoulders. Not because he needed to, not because he wanted to punish you—just because he could.
Just because he liked it.
─────────୨ৎ─────────
You played round after round after that, the hours slipping by unnoticed. The table shifted, drinks were replaced, the music grew louder and then blurred into the background.
By the time the night began to thin out, he’d walked you through the halls and left you at your door, talking about nothing and everything at once—recent expeditions, Rudo’s progress, who had handled the trash beasts better on the last mission (obviously you). You said your goodbyes like you hadn’t half-sat in his lap just moments earlier.
And you just couldn’t shake the thought of him.
His lingering looks.
That honeyed tone to his voice.
The way his words always seemed to push just enough to see what you’d do with them.
You’ve been trying to catch sleep for a couple hours, but the phantom sensation of his finger lazily tracing circles into your shoulder hadn’t faded. Neither had the warmth of his body pressed against yours, or the image of his sharp, calloused hands working the deck.
You groaned into your pillow, kicking your feet against the mattress (which was dumb, because your legs still hadn’t recovered—it hurt really bad).
This was frustrating.
Even now, your body felt as though it was running just as hot as it had when pressed right against the side of his hard chest. Tingles ran over every bit of skin that touched him. Your thoughts wandered places you usually always tried to keep them from and you were failing miserably tonight.
His naked, inked skin.
His strong, broad frame.
His stupid hot fucking smile.
The way his hands would feel…
You’d usually always been able to handle him, but something was just different this time.
This wasn’t the same old big-ego Enjin. It was him threading himself into your thoughts, somehow playing with the pace of your heartbeat, the temperature of your skin, the electric feeling in your stomach.
Sleeping was pointless. You were lucky you had nowhere to be in the morning.
Maybe you should take a shower.
You begrudgingly lifted your face from the squished pillow and pushed yourself up, heading to grab a change of clothes before shuffling toward the bathroom.
By the time you reached it, your resolve had wavered enough that you didn’t even bother shutting the door fully before peeling off your sleep shirt, carelessly throwing it onto your pile of laundry you had yet to find a day to tackle.
The water felt relieving against your skin. Today felt like the kind of day that justified turning it really hot—which Enjin always hated, since it usually meant a cold, miserable shower for him the next morning. After tonight, you figured he kind of deserved it.
If he was going to occupy your thoughts, you were claiming the hot water.
The sensation of the water running down your body seemed to numb the pain in your legs, but it did little to wash away the feeling of his skin pressed against yours—because of course it wouldn’t. This wasn’t a physical sensation, it was him in your head.
You turned the temperature up a notch.
It burned, but it felt good.
Single droplets pierced you like hot needles—a type of pain you actually welcomed. All the tension of the day seemed to wash off your body, disappearing down the drain along with the water.
You could stay here for hours, maybe even fall asleep like this. All your senses felt cut off from the outside world, with no room for any unwanted thoughts. Just the unbearably hot water, close enough to feel endless.
And then, there was a beep.
You froze. You hadn’t taken your choker off yet.
Someone was calling.
You feared you knew exactly who.
“Enjin, what the fuck? It’s, like, 1 a.m.!” you whisper-shouted, covering the choker as best you could with your hand, as though that was going to shield you in any way.
“Huh? It’s almost 3. And I can hear you,” he replied.
“Yeah, I know, we’re in a call!” you said, exasperated.
“No, like… I can hear your shower,” he clarified, a faint chuckle in his tone.
“And you thought it’d be a good idea to call me in the shower?”
“You picked up, didn’t you?” His grin practically radiated through the call.
What you hated most in this moment wasn’t that he called—it was the fact that you were excited about it.
And the fact that he was right.
“You don’t even know how hot my shower is running right now.” you challenged him, hoping to get him right where you knew it hurt.
“That’s fucked up,” he laughed, like he wasn’t taking you seriously at all. “Just to tick me off? Or you just felt like showering hot?”
“I don’t have to answer that.” you mumbled, reaching for the shampoo bottle.
“And that says so much,” he replied. “Why’re you taking a shower in the middle of the night? Didn’t you say you were tired?”
“I was tired,” you admitted, letting the water cascade over your shoulders. “I just couldn’t fall asleep.”
“Mm, same,” he replied. “It’s kind of your fault for turning on the shower, though.”
“Thats on you.” And you regretted these words the moment they escaped your lips.
“What’d I do?”
Because what were you even going to tell him? That you couldn’t stop thinking about how good he smelled? That you wished his arm had fully encased you? That you actually kind of liked it when he pressed down on your bruises? That just thinking about any of it made your body react in ways you could never, ever admit out loud?
“I just don’t like you.” you muttered, scrubbing shampoo into your hair, trying to keep your voice even.
“I know that’s not true, sweetheart,” he said, his smile as audible as ever through the line.
Again with that pet name.
“I’m just gonna stop talking.”
“You could also just hang up.”
“Why don’t you hang up?
“I don’t want to,” he chuckled lowly. “I feel like you don’t really want to stop talking, either.”
You heard him shuffle on his end of the line—things cluttering and moving around.
“You’re very confident in yourself.”
“Hang up, then.”
You didn’t reply. You didn’t hang up, either.
“Thought so,” he murmured with a faint exhale—was he smoking?—“Wanna come over?”
“What. Now?”
“Yeah. Or, you know what?” The sound of shifting feet, a quiet grunt. “I’m coming over.”
Your fingers clenched slightly around the shampoo bottle, as if it was your lifeline. “I’m in the shower!”
“Well, hurry, my foot’s out the door already.” And the click of his door shutting was, indeed, audible on the other end.
The moment you felt the shampoo rinse completely from your hair, you stepped out of the shower, grabbing the first towel within reach.
“At least wait, like… two minutes,” you said, tugging it tighter around yourself. “Please.”
“But then I’d have to walk all the way back.”
“Our rooms are next to each other!” you shot back, exasperated.
“Yeah… way too far. Damn, you should lock your door.”
“Are you in my room right now?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, as if that settled everything.
“Just wait—sit down somewhere. I’ll be right out.” you replied hurriedly, dropping the towel after drying yourself off and getting into your giant sleep shirt.
Shutting the bathroom door behind you and quickly shuffling your way back to your space, you find him splayed out on your bed, staring at the ceiling—or perhaps following the pattern of the smoke as it rose into the air.
“Well?” he asked, his focus not shifting toward you quite yet. “You gonna keep me waiting?”
You crossed your arms, trying for irritation. “Do I look like I had a choice?”
Then, he spared you a glance, eyeing your frame for a moment. Then two.
He smiled. “You look good.”
You blinked, caught off guard. “Sorry?” you asked.
“You look good.” He met your eyes after letting his attention wander all over you. “Like… really good.”
You shifted on the spot, tugging at the hem of your shirt. “Don’t start with me, Enjin,” you muttered, though a faint warmth had already started spreading through your chest.
“Relax, I’m just messing with you,” he said, propping himself up against the wall. He made space on the mattress, patting the newly free spot as a silent invitation for you to get comfortable.
He brought the blunt to his lips and took a long, unhurried drag. You could practically see the smoke fill his lungs, his chest expanding before he leaned his head back slightly and exhaled, the haze curling lazily toward the ceiling. The sound he made—low, pleased—had no business shooting right through you the way it did.
You took a short breath, grounding yourself, then crossed the room and settled into the space he’d made for you. You leaned back against the pillows, angling your legs carefully so they didn’t tangle with his, even though the mattress dip made closeness unavoidable.
When you glanced over, he wasn’t looking at you anymore.
His gaze had gone distant, unfocused, like he’d drifted somewhere else entirely as the drug settled in. For a moment, you just watched him—his relaxed posture, the faint rise and fall of his chest, the way the smoke still lingered around him.
The thought that he looked kind of ethereal quietly passed your mind.
Then, with the slightest tilt of his head, his eyes found yours again.
“Wanna try?” he asked, holding the blunt out toward you. You blinked. Once. Twice.
“What—smoking?” you echoed.
“Yeah.” His smile was lazy, unpressuring. “You don’t have to.”
You hesitated. You’d never really felt the urge before—never saw the appeal. Still, curiosity nudged at you, persistent and annoying.
“…If you teach me?”
Something softened in his expression, just briefly, before a faint smile took over.
“Of course, sweetheart.”
He held it closer, waiting. You took it carefully, immediately aware of how little you knew about what to do with it. You’d seen people smoke before, sure—but holding it yourself felt strangely intimidating. For something so small, it suddenly felt like it carried a lot of weight.
And you were supposed to breathe that in?
“It’s pretty intuitive,” he said, watching you with open amusement. “Just don’t inhale too deeply.”
“That’s your instructions?”
“To be fair,” he chuckled, lifting his hands in lazy defense, “you’re probably gonna start coughing anyway. Just a heads up.”
Your eyes rolled on instinct.
You studied the blunt like it might give you some sort of guidance if you stared long enough. Then you brought it to your lips and took a tentative inhale.
Nothing.
Frowning slightly, you tried again—deeper this time.
Instant regret.
The burn hit fast and sharp, ripping the air straight out of your lungs. You sputtered, coughing hard as smoke escaped in uneven bursts, shoving the blunt back into his hand while you struggled to breathe. You were hunched forward, absolutely wrecked, eyes watering.
Enjin was already laughing beside you, completely unapologetic.
“I told you not too deep,” he said between laughs. “I gave you one instruction.”
You wanted to snap back—had a dozen words lined up—but air still hadn’t fully returned to your lungs, and all you could manage was a glare that only made him grin wider.
“Easy,” he said, laughter still in his voice as he shifted closer. His hand came up to your back, warm and steady, rubbing slow circles between your shoulder blades. “Breathe. I’ve got you.”
He guided you gently back against him, your spine settling against his chest.
You coughed again, sharper this time, eyes stinging as you tried to suck in air that didn’t burn. “You—” you rasped, grounding yourself with a hand on his leg. “You’re evil.”
He hummed, clearly entertained. “Yeah, yeah. Deep breaths. In through your nose. Just like that.”
You did as he said, partly out of necessity, partly because the weight of his hand made it easier. The coughing eased little by little, your chest still tight but no longer on fire.
“There you go,” he murmured, closer now, voice lower. “See? Still alive.”
Without really thinking about it, you leaned back, letting your head rest against him for just a second as you caught your breath. “I hate you,” you muttered—though it came out far less convincing than you meant it to.
His thumb traced a lazy line along your shoulder. “Mhm. I can tell.”
You exhaled sharply, shoulders tense. “You absolutely set me up.”
“I warned you,” he said, lifting the blunt past your frame and bringing it back to his lips. “You just didn’t listen.”
That’s when two things hit you at once.
One—you felt it.
Your thoughts began to loosen in a way they never had before. The constant noise in your head softened, blurred, fading into something distant and manageable.
And two—the position you were in.
Your hand resting on his thigh.
Your back pressed flush against his chest.
His arm lazily draped around you, like you just did this all the time.
It was a dangerous combination. With your thoughts dulled and hazy, you didn’t have the energy to filter your thoughts about how much you actually liked it anymore.
He shifted slightly behind you, just enough that the pressure of his chest against your back deepened, and you felt the subtle weight of his attention resting along the back of your head.
“See?” he murmured, more to himself than you. “Knew you’d feel it.”
You frowned faintly. “Feel what?”
“The quiet,” he said, his finger lightly tapping against your temple. “You stopped fidgeting.”
That caught your attention. You‘d usually try to deny it—but you couldn’t. Your thoughts felt slower. Softer.
He sensed it before you even said anything—the way your breathing evened out, the tension in your shoulders easing, the subtleties of the things you didn’t do—like pulling away, or fighting back.
“Look at you,” he murmured, voice low, almost cooing. “So calm… seriously, this might be the longest stretch you’ve gone without barking at me.”
“Shush,” you muttered, cheeks warming. “M’not calm. N‘ I don’t bark.”
“Sure, baby,” he said, that word curling around your spine. “Whatever you say.”
And you didn’t even have it in you to fully process the new pet name.
His hand found the hem of your shirt, tugging it lightly between his fingers, testing the fabric against your skin. Not enough to pull it up, not enough to be overt—definitely enough for you to notice.
You felt the faint brush of his thumb against your side with each little pull, a whisper of contact that made your stomach tighten.
“You’re kind of comfortable.” you muttered, trying for casual as you pulled your hand back—slowly, like you didn’t want to draw attention to it.
“Only kind of?” he asked, voice easy, almost amused. His fingers flexed once against your side, just enough to be intentional.
“Okay,” you murmured, almost to yourself. “You’re really comfortable.”
“Mm, sure seems like it,” he let out a soft hum. “You feeling tired?”
“No,” you replied, letting your words trail just slightly. The warmth of your body pressed into his was dizzying. “M’just very good right now.”
His hand moved lazily along your side, brushing your hip with an absent-minded care that made your stomach twist. “Mm,” he murmured. “Want me to stay?”
You nodded.
“Okay.”
The room fell into a quiet that wasn’t uncomfortable, just… present. No teasing, no jokes—just him and you.
Slowly, his fingers traced the curve of your waist, mapping the gentle swell of your sides as if committing every line to memory.
Each movement was bold in intention yet measured, teasing—like he was daring you to react, and you found yourself holding still, caught between hesitation and anticipation.
The warmth of his touch spread through you in ways that weren’t just physical; it was the attention, the quiet focus of him exploring without words.
His hand was no longer just playing—it was present, outlining the frame of you, leaving you aware of every point of contact, every subtle press of skin against fabric.
His other hand slowly lifted, fingers weaving through your hair. With a practiced ease, he swept it over to one side, letting your thick sleep shirt slip just enough to expose your shoulder. The fabric pooled lazily around the curve, leaving your neck bare to the warmth of his gaze.
A content sigh left your lips.
“You like that?” he whispered, his warm breath brushing along your ear. You already knew he didn’t need an answer—he just wanted to hear it from you.
You complied with a soft hum.
He took one last slow drag of the blunt, the tip glowing faintly in the dim light. You caught the plume of smoke in your peripheral vision as he exhaled, and it curled lazily over your shoulder, teasing your bare skin.
With a subtle flick of his fingers, he sent the finished blunt spinning onto the floor. You were too caught up in the moment to care, letting the tension in your body unravel under his attention.
You don’t think you’ve ever been this relaxed.
The hand that had been tracing your side drifted lower, slipping past the hem of your shirt. It moved agonizingly slowly, skimming over the soft skin of your bare thigh, his thumb drawing lazy, teasing patterns—just a little too far up, just a little too far in.
Just a little too much to pass off as friendly.
He was giving you just enough—enough to make your skin burn—but never enough to truly satisfy the ache that had built up inside you. The moment felt charged, but it wasn’t as simple as just raw intimacy.
His breath skimmed the skin of your neck in slow, even intervals. “You’re really soft.” It almost sounded like a question.
You could feel his attention on you—the hazed focus of his gaze lingering along the line of your neck, the faint feeling of his hair grazing your skin. Then he inched in closer—slow, gentle kisses traced along the length of your neck. And despite all the tension coiled in your body, they weren’t meant to provoke—just soft, unhurried.
He pulled back, resting his head atop your shoulder.
Part of you was relieved he didn’t take it further. Another part of you screamed at the loss of the feeling.
“You’re not telling me to stop,” he whispered into your shoulder.
And, yeah. You weren’t.
You swallowed, fingers curling lightly into the fabric of his sleeve. “Yeah,” you said quietly, words slower than usual, “Should I?”
There was a pause. Not the heavy kind. Just enough to let your words settle.
“Up to you,” he replied easily, his thumb returning to trace an absent-minded line along your side. “I’d be a bit butthurt about it—but, you know. Whatever.”
That made you laugh.
He stuck to caring strokes and gentle touches.
You drifted off to sleep in his embrace that night.
─────────୨ৎ─────────
He was a simple man. At least, he’d always thought he was.
Things just failed to feel simple lately.
Enjin sat at the table, leaning slightly forward as Semiu traced patrol routes on the worn map spread across the surface. Corvus flipped through the mission logs, scribbling notes in the margins with a pencil that had long since lost its eraser.
He answered questions when prompted, offered minor adjustments to the routes, corrected a timing estimate—on the surface, he was engaged.
His thoughts were entirely elsewhere.
They’d gotten stuck with you in your bedroom that night, about a week ago.
The memory lingered at the edge of his mind, pulling his attention away even as Semiu traced the eastern perimeter—and he was fucked, since he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why she was outlining it in the first place.
The scratch of Semiu’s pencil across the map, the rustle of papers, the muted scribbling of Corvus’s notes—they all faded into the background.
He could almost feel your warmth, hear the soft sighs you’d given him, see your eyes closing at the subtle pleasure of his touch.
He understood heat, understood want—the easy kind, the kind you didn’t have to think too hard about. Touch, tension, release. He’d never been precious with it. Never needed to be.
So this—this gentle kind of caution—sat wrong in his chest.
The way his hands slowed before touching you. How instinct kept telling him to pull you closer, but something quieter told him not to rush. Like moving too fast might shatter something he didn’t quite have a name for yet.
That part confused him.
You’d always felt safe. Why did that matter so much right now?
And then that uniform.
It should’ve been the usual—charming smiles, lingering touches, the spark of attraction he knew how to handle. Instead, it had hit him sideways. Like the sight of you had shifted something into place rather than set it on fire. Pride, maybe. Something that settled instead of burned.
The realization crept up on him slowly, unwelcome in how obvious it suddenly felt.
He wasn’t being gentle because he didn’t want you.
He was being gentle because, somewhere along the way, you’d started to feel precious.
And that thought lingered far longer than he wanted it to.
He absently rubbed the back of his neck as Semiu asked about polluted zones by the border of a No Man’s Land near the eastern perimeter.
“Uh… yeah, those are clear,” he said, eyes drifting to the empty chair across the table, imagining you slumping into it, hair damp from a shower, in nothing but that huge shirt you’d worn that night.
Corvus glanced up sharply. “You even paying attention, Enjin?”
He blinked, shook his head slightly, and forced a nod. “Yeah, just… thinking ‘bout the deployment,” he muttered, realizing how transparent that sounded.
He’d like to get deployed with you again.
No. Stop. Not now.
It wasn’t about him seeing you for the first time when he laid eyes on you that day in the hallway. Something in him had been stirred awake, something that had been dormant for quite some time.
Granted, the way you looked definitely didn’t hurt.
He just hated how smitten he felt about it.
Once he realized you’d fallen asleep, breathing slow and even against his chest, he’d chosen to give you space. He’d tucked you in carefully—too carefully, if you asked him—pulled the blanket up to around your shoulders and all that. Left without waking you.
He took a shower after. Cold.
For once, he didn’t even mind that you’d used up all the hot water. He’d planned on it anyway.
He just couldn’t believe the way he was treating you.
Enjin wasn’t selfish—just a bit indulgent. A hedonist in the simplest sense. He liked what felt good and had never been shy about reaching for it.
He wasn’t unfamiliar with want. He knew exactly how far he could’ve gone, how easy it would’ve been to guide you there with him. You would’ve let him. He was sure of that. And he would’ve taken care of you — that wasn’t the issue.
Because, fuck—he wanted to.
So why didn’t he take you?
You hadn’t been tense. You hadn’t been provoking. You’d been safe.
Again, safe.
He was starting to get fed up with safe.
He clenched his jaw. It annoyed him, the way he’d held back. Especially considering the things he could’ve done to you—wanted to do to you. Thinking about making you call out his name like it was the only thing you knew how to say anymore—over and over again.
And yet.
He didn’t.
He replayed it in his head more times than he cared to admit—the way you’d leaned back into him without thinking. The way your voice had softened. The way you hadn’t told him to stop.
You would’ve let him.
That was the problem.
It wouldn’t have taken much. A slight shift of his hand. Turning your face toward his and closing the distance. You were already pliant in his arms, hazy and warm and trusting.
Trusting.
His jaw tightened again.
Of all the things he could’ve done—wanted to do—he’d chosen restraint.
His mouth had found your neck, yes—but only in the softest way. Slow, measured presses of his lips against your skin. It was the one thing he couldn’t quite stop himself from taking.
Even then, he’d been careful.
And when had he ever been careful?
Enjin didn’t do careful. He did instinct. He did desire. He did taking and giving in the same breath. Going with the flow of things.
This time, something in him had paused.
Not out of uncertainty. Not out of fear that you’d reject him.
Out of something worse.
He didn’t want to cheapen it.
The thought irritated him more than anything else. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply through his nose.
Even here, surrounded by stained papers, pencils, and scattered mugs, the thought of you was impossible to shake.
Seeing you in your uniform hadn’t started this. It had just made it harder to ignore. The way you carried yourself. The way you focused. The quiet competence. It had sharpened something that had already been there.
When had he become so aware of you? Of the way you looked at him differently lately. Of the way his body reacted to even the smallest shifts in your tone.
He wasn’t used to wanting something slowly.
It was unsettling.
Because if this was just lust, he would’ve satisfied it already.
And he was only just starting to realize it.
Semiu and Corvus started gathering their things. Somehow, the word dismissed drifted into his awareness, and before he fully realized it, he was up as well, tidying alongside them—hands moving almost automatically, thoughts still elsewhere.
Moments later, he waved them goodbye and stepped out of the briefing room, moving through the low, humming halls.
The day had passed in a blur.
He’d looked for you briefly, only to be told you’d been cooped up in your room all day, finishing reports you had let pile up and procrastinated—you really hated paperwork.
And he just knew that about you.
At some point, he’d bumped into Semiu in the common area. She had finished her work for the day early and didn’t really have anything left to do—she figured she’d like to use the evening to enjoy herself, or something along those lines.
Enjin had agreed.
That’s how he found himself in a crowded bar—or club—he wasn’t even sure and it didn’t really matter. He was perched at a table, smoking his blunt—as per usual—while Semiu sipped a drink across from him, seemingly enjoying the light buzz in her system.
The music did most of the work in drowning out his thoughts. Around him, people were dancing, some were flirting, touching. Others were getting wasted, a couple were fighting. The colorful light pierced through the clouds of smoke all over the place.
The kind of environment he usually thrived in.
Usually—
Oh. Semiu was talking to him.
“…many prank calls. Like, seriously, it pisses me off,” Semiu ranted, leaning back in her chair, fingers tapping impatiently on the table.
“Totally,” he replied, taking a slow drag from his blunt. The smoke curled around his fingers as his gaze drifted over the crowd, half-present, half-lost in thought.
“I’m too nice on the phone. I bet the hell guards don’t get calls like that,” she continued, voice rising slightly with exasperation.
And he tried so hard—genuinely—to listen to his coworker and friend he held so close to his heart. He really, really did.
“Yeah, seems unlikely,” he murmured, blowing the smoke upward and letting it dissipate into the dim light.
“Enjin. What’s up with you today?” Semiu pressed, leaning forward now, her eyes narrowing slightly as she caught the distracted set of his eyes.
“Hm?” He blinked, realizing she’d actually addressed him, fingers flexing absently around the blunt.
“During the briefing, too. You, like, disconnected from the world or something?” Her arms crossed over the table, resting the weight of them on it.
“Nah, I’m good,” he said, a faint grin tugging at his lips, taking another slow inhale. “Why? You worried about little ol’me?”
“A’ight. Imma take your word for it. For now,” she sighed, shaking her head. “But also only because I’m so fed up by the calls I don’t really have the capacity to listen to you right now.”
“Honestly,” he said, exhaling the last of the smoke from his lungs before flicking the blunt into the ashtray on the table, “works f’me.”
“You’re welcome, boo.”
Enjin felt a dip in the seat next to him.
In his peripheral, a woman, about a head and a half shorter than him. It almost slipped his mind that things like this happened to him more often than not—that he usually waited for them.
“Hey,” she smiled at him, feigning innocence, though they were both well aware of her intentions. “Your name’s Enjin, right?”
Ah. So he’d spoken to her before—somewhere, sometime.
He finally spared her a proper look. She sat upright, legs elegantly crossed, hair cascading over one shoulder like a deliberate portrait. A subtle flush colored her cheeks, softening her features.
And—usually—she’d be just the type of woman he’d go for.
But today was not a usual day.
“Nope.” He popped the p with unnecessary emphasis. “Name’s Goostaf Hurgenskurk.”
The look on Semiu’s face in his peripheral was priceless—her eyebrows shot up, mouth half-open in a mixture of shock and amusement, like she couldn’t quite decide whether to laugh or glare.
“Oh, sorry,” she stammered, stepping back a little. “Must’ve confused you with someone.”
She turned on her heel and hurried away, leaving him with a faint smirk tugging at his lips. He watched her retreat, letting the brief amusement linger before his thoughts drifted back to… well, everything else.
“So,” Semiu said, raising her glass to her lips, holding his gaze deliberately as she took a slow sip before setting it back on the table. “Goostaf.”
“I don’t even know,” he sighed, running a hand over his face. “I was just trying to think of a weird name.”
“Why, though?” Semiu leaned back, tone soft with genuine curiosity. “She’s pretty. You always let a pretty girl take you home with them, no?”
“You make me sound like a manwhore,” he muttered, a defeated chuckle escaping him.
“Well…” Her voice trailed off, insinuating—just letting the thought hang in the air.
Enjin groaned, letting his head fall back against the chair. “I just don’t feel like it today.”
“I feel like,” she said slowly, tilting her head up, a knowing look slipping into her expression now, “you’re just feeling someone else.”
And—however she figured it out—he knew that she was right.
The thought settled heavier than he expected. He’d been circling it all day, avoiding it, dressing it up as confusion or exhaustion. But now, sitting in the middle of a crowded bar with music pounding around him and with his good friend sitting across him, it finally landed.
Properly.
“Fuck, Semiu,” he groaned, dragging his hands down his face before letting his forehead fall briefly into his palms. The realization hit harder than any drink or drug in the room ever could.
Her brows lifted. “Is that what’s been bothering you all day?”
“Yeah,” he exhaled, sitting back again, staring at the table instead of her. “I just—I haven’t really seen her for a week. We keep missing each other at work,” he rubbed at the back of his neck. “It’s rough.”
“You should just stop ogling her every chance you get and man up,” Semiu said, tapping her fingers lightly on the table, eyes fixed on him with quiet insistence.
“Ogling is a kind of a strong word for it.”
“She ogles you too.”
“Yeah, I know,” he let out a short laugh, shaking his head, before letting out a sigh. “I’m losing my mind.”
“No, man,” she said simply. “You’re okay.” A small pause. “Just let her know.”
He looked up at her. “Now?”
She shrugged lightly. “Depends—do you want to tell her now?”
─────────୨ৎ─────────
You. Despised. Paperwork. With. A. Burning. Passion.
Hours had passed since you’d started, and the stack of reports in front of you had barely shrunk. Every form felt the same as the last, every column and checkbox an endless, mind-numbing loop.
Your pen scratched across the page, filling in numbers, ticking boxes, repeating the same information over and over, trying desperately not to make mistakes. Your eyes ached, your back was stiff, and your brain was screaming for even a single moment of entertainment.
You slammed your pen down. Enough. You needed a break.
For a moment, you leaned back in your chair. The room was quiet, the night outside slanting through the window casting a cold light on the mess of papers. You hadn’t moved from that spot all day, and it showed.
Boredom clung to you like a second skin. Attention fractured. Thoughts wandered.
You missed everyone. Watching Zanka train Rudo from the corner of the training yard, hearing Semiu’s voice echo from the common area, even the occasional gruff comment from Delmon — all of it made you wish you could be anywhere else right now.
But you’d told everyone to stay out of your room unless it was an emergency. No distractions. No interruptions. You needed to get through the paperwork, and the last thing you wanted was someone leaning over your shoulder asking questions or chatting.
It was definitely what you wanted, though.
Still, even in the quiet, your thoughts kept drifting. You missed him too.
No. Focus.
You let out a long, tired sigh, shoulders slumping as you rubbed at the ache in your neck. The pen hovered uselessly above the next form.
Your eyes wandered across the room, landing on the stack of completed reports next to you—neat, precise, and utterly soul-crushing. You pushed it away with a flick of your wrist.
Enough of this.
You’d finish the rest tomorrow.
You leaned back in your chair, stretching your legs and letting the tension in your body ease slightly. Somewhere in the corner of your mind, you imagined him there—on your bed, attention drifting into nothingness as smoke swirled gently around him, unhurried and soft—and him looking utterly peaceful. Pretty.
A knock at the door froze you mid-stretch.
Your heart skipped. You’d told everyone to stay out unless it was urgent.
Another knock. Louder this time. Your chest tightened. You hesitated, staring at the door, mind racing through every possible scenario.
Slowly, cautiously, you approached and cracked it open.
To your surprise, it was Enjin.
And as much as he didn’t look like he was about to deliver bad news, something about him had shifted. The air around him felt different.
No performative expression. No mischief in his eyes. No provoking glint. Something much softer had settled over his sharp features—a contrast that made your chest ache a little.
“Hey,” you said, brows knitting slightly. “Did something happen?”
“No,” he answered simply. His voice was calm. Certain. “Not at all.” A beat. “Can I come in?”
You studied him for a second longer, searching his face for anything you might’ve missed. Finding nothing urgent—just your own curiosity—you stepped aside.
He moved past you without another word. Not brushing against you, not lingering—close enough that you felt the warmth of him as he crossed the threshold. The door clicked shut behind him, the sound louder than it should’ve been.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
He took in your room—the desk crowded with papers, the stack you’d shoved aside, the pen lying abandoned where you’d dropped it. His gaze lingered there briefly before returning to you.
The silence wasn’t awkward.
It was heavy.
And whatever he’d come here to say—you felt like it mattered.
Just that he didn’t say anything. He looked at you, held your gaze as though he had all the time in the world. Like it stood still, right here in this room—with you.
You caught the faintest dip in his gaze—just slightly, brushing over the lines of your shoulders, the skin underneath the collar of your shirt—the smallest of shifts of his irises—before returning to your eyes.
You felt like you were being… scanned. For something. But you didn’t have the capacity to commit your mind to what that could possibly be, because your focus was on something entirely unrelated.
The breadth of his shoulders.
The vivid reds and blacks inked into his skin.
The loose curl of his hair falling near his temple.
He didn’t say anything. Not with words, at least. But you were beginning to understand.
He stepped toward you, slow and unhurried, closing the space without breaking eye contact—which felt like a bit of a crime in and of itself. It was unbelievably nauseating, made you feel powerless, but in kind of a good way.
Had he always been so tall? He really towered over you—couldn’t even look at him anymore without folding your head back.
His hand found yours first, fingers curling gently as he drew you in. You could feel sparks at the tips of your own—and it hurt. It hurt so much, because all the tension in your body seemed to come crashing down on you all at once and it hurt so much it felt good, somehow.
Then, it snaked around your waist, steady, holding you close. You didn’t quite grasp what was actually happening, you just knew you wanted more, but also anticipated possibly throwing up butterflies any second now.
His body was so unbelievably warm and big—the scope of it so up close was a bit hard to grasp. You feel the outlines of his defined body through his thin sweater and you forgot how to breathe for a second.
His other hand came up to cup your face, gently—so unbelievably gentle, like your skin might crack under anything more; it almost made you cry.
His fingers slipped into your hair, careful, slow. His thumb moved back and forth along your cheek, steady and soft. Tender—and you started wondering when you would have ever described him that way.
You were beginning to understand.
Your initial hesitance vanished into thin air along with the ability to think straight.
And all the what-ifs and maybes that had been crowding your mind melted away the instant he pressed his lips against yours
The sound of your heart pounding mixed with the ringing in your ears; you were certain you were about to die, if it wasn’t for the way he was squeezing your frame against his, like he promised to catch you if you were going to fall.
He was slow. Tentative. Testing the waters, as if silently asking for permission you’d already given him a million times over in your head.
His grip on your waist tightened just slightly, almost accidental—trying so hard to hold back, yet his true immediacy shone through the cracks of his performative reluctance.
He had been just as desperate to do this to you as you had been to have it happen.
You felt the butterflies do their thing again—and it was fucked up how easily he’d given them to you, with something as simple as a kiss and a couple touches entirely unraveling you.
Shivers trickled down your spine at the sensation of him, of it all; his warmth radiating through the fabric of his sweater, his lips moving with your own in a painfully—agonizingly—slow tandem.
Then he pulled back—no more than an inch—your soft, warm breaths mingling in the small space between you. A lazy, faint smile on his face.
“Hey,” he exhaled.
A simple word. It didn’t mean anything, really—but it did. And you understood.
“Hi.” Your voice almost ran out. Airy. Barely even there.
His grin widened, before he leaned back in again. Initially soft and merciful touches turned more intense, intentional; a firmer grip on you, a stronger tug on the back of your head, tangling into the strands of your hair at the nape of your neck.
Your body, your mind, your everything seemed to solely focus in on him. There was nothing more important than this, him kissing you senseless and holding onto you like you were going to disappear if he didn’t.
You felt him grow impatient with each passing moment—pulling your body even closer by the small of your back—and you couldn’t help but notice how large his hand felt there. He angled his head just right to deepen the kiss with natural finesse. He was everywhere—filling all your senses, overwhelming your system in ways you never thought possible.
He smelled of faint hints of tobacco, though he tasted a lot fresher than you’d expected—almost minty in flavour. The mix of cigarettes and mint made for a spicy tingle on your tongue and all you could think about was how it kind of fit the man you were holding onto like a lifeline.
Your hands found the nape of his neck, feeling up the short hairs of his sharp undercut.
You were trying to catch a thought—any thought—at least a single word—but you hadn’t taken a proper breath in nearly half a minute, and it was definitely starting to affect your ability to think clearly.
That he hoisted you up by the underside of your thighs with controlled ease a moment later—not breaking away from you for even a second—did not help in the slightest. He took a few steps somewhere—before your back met the hard surface of the wall behind you.
Your legs comfortably tangled around his waist as he pinned you against it with his hips, hard. The hand previously on your cheek joined the other on your waist, fingers digging into your side, abandoning any idea of slow and tender.
Your own hands traveled beneath his collar, nails dragging across bare skin and if he didn’t have this tattoo you were sure there’d be deep, red scratches there.
Groans rippled through him with every drag of your nails, the sound shooting straight through your stomach. It only seemed to provoke him further—pulling you closer by the arch of your back and pressing you against him, his fingers digging in just enough that you knew you’d feel it the next morning.
The kiss turned messy. There was no sense or rhythm to it, only pure instinct and insatiable hunger for the other. No matter how close he was—how deeply his fingers dug into your skin—you still felt like he couldn’t be further away. You wanted him closer, as close as physically possible and more.
He moved on towards your neck and it was nothing like the faint pecks he’d left there that night a week ago. This was him devouring you, moving right on the edge between pleasure and pain. His kisses stung as he bit them into your skin, likely tainting it with red and blue hues. “You feel so fucking good,” he whispered, basking in the way your body twitched—your sweet gasps nothing short of music to his ears.
Once he felt like he was done with one place, he’d continue his assault further down along the blank canvas of your skin, leaving only stinging spots behind, before finally returning to your swollen lips, leaving one single, slow and deep kiss.
“Enjin,” you heaved—the first time you were able to take a long breath in a hot minute.
“Mm?” He hummed, leaving lazy pecks on your lips, eyes entirely dazed. Sometimes, he’d move it to the corner of your mouth, your cheek, your jaw—just peppering you with gentle kisses, taking his sweet time with it.
His grip on you told a whole different story.
His huge hands encasing more of you than you could have ever expected, pinning you against him with little to no effort, like your weight meant absolutely nothing to him. And why would it? He was easily two times your size, if not more.
“I need—“ kiss. “—more,” another kiss. “Please.”
He pulled back an inch or two, a faint yet devilish smile adorning his face. “More of what, sweetheart?”
His head dipped back into the crook of your neck, lips grazing the newly mark-ridden parts of your skin, leaving a couple more soft kisses along their pattern. “More of this?”
And he was well aware that that was not what you meant. You knew he knew that was not what you had meant—and it was frustrating to no end. The ache between your legs was getting more unbearable by the second. “No—want you to touch me,” you whined. You tried to ease the tension by pulling him closer, shifting your hips against him—every attempt in vain.
He had you pinned securely in place, and there was no adjusting it without his help. Without his permission. “Please, Enjin.”
“I am touching you, baby,” he huffed a breathy laugh, before holding his hand out to you, offering it. “Here. Move it to where you want me, sweetheart.”
You held his gaze for a moment, weighing your options. It hurt your ego to have to admit this to him in such a degrading way—and still, a part of you felt so cared for. Your pride urged you to save face, but given the position you were in, there wasn’t necessarily much ego left to save. If accepting his offer meant getting the itch scratched you so desperately needed attention for, then it was simply what you had to do.
And so—without breaking the eye contac—you took his hand in your own and first guided it down the like of your body and underneath the hem of your shirt. His brow quirked slightly, eyes darkening as it met the plush of the inside of your legs.
Ever so slowly, you moved it a couple inches further in and further up, until his fingers finally met the sole layer of fabric separating you from what you’re asking of him.
The smile that grew on his face was something else.
He shifted, properly supporting your weight on one leg while keeping you steady with a hand snaked around the small of your back. Then, without hurry, he tugged the fabric aside, running his fingers along your sore, wet folds.
His gaze tilted down to where his hand disappeared beneath the fabric of your shirt. “Damn, baby. You’re soaked,” he let his fingers dip into you for nothing more than a couple inches before running them up and down again—tracing you. Memorizing you. “Fuck, that’s hot.”
The sounds that left you would have left you feeling quite embarrassed, if you weren’t so distracted right now. The relief of the friction did a lot to sate your desire for a moment—but you could already feel yourself wanting more.
He seemed to have picked up on it as his fingers moved upwards to solely focus on your wanting and waiting clit. Your eyes shut close at the sudden feeling of him finally giving you what you’d needed, gripping at his shoulders for dear life as if you’d fall if you didn’t and whining his name through broken breaths like a personal mantra.
He hummed. You felt his muscles shift beneath your palms, like his head had tilted upwards—like he was looking at you again. “Yes, pretty girl?”
“S’really good,” you exhaled, opening your eyes only to see Enjin already fully focused on you through your hazed vision.
“I know, baby, I know,” he cooed, corner of his lip faintly quirking upwards. “Wasn’t even gonna do this with you,”—he leaned in, eyes falling to your lips before catching them with his in a short kiss—“was gonna come here and tell you how I feel. Wanted to spend more time with you, ask you out on a nice date, do it right this time—but you,” his eyes met your gaze again—this time, more intense.
His previously tender attention towards your clit turned overwhelming in an instant. The pad of his finger moved a little faster and harder now—each deliberate stroke drawing a sharp, involuntary twitch from your body.
You’d never felt so overstimulated, every sensation heightened to the brink, and yet some reckless part of you was completely, helplessly into it.
Soft whines slipped from your mouth, and if anyone happened to be on the other side of the wall you were pressed against, you were certain they’d be able to hear you.
“Looked up at me all doe eyed like that. Said ‘please’ like that.” His fingers dipped into you without warning, two of them filling you more than two fingers ever should be able to, but, of course, Enjin and his blessed, huge hands, took little to now effort to make you see stars. “This what you wanted , sweetheart?”
“Mm, yes,” you breathed, pure instinct taking over as you pulled him back in by the nape of his neck.
It drove you insane—the way you felt his jaw shift against your palm, the slow graze of his tongue along your bottom lip, the steady curl of his fingers inside you, again and again and again.
“Mm,”—he separated from you for a moment—“s’just for you, baby,”—before leaning back in. His fingers curled inside you again and again, brushing that sensitive spot that made your insides tighten and your skin burn in ways no one had ever made you feel before.
He had something about him—some kind of chemistry that felt entirely unique to Enjin. That towering height, those striking features, paired with his addictive charisma that showed in the way he talked to you—in the way he touched you, kissed you.
It wasn’t demanding in a forceful sense. It was unraveling. It was simple. You were willing to hand yourself over completely—without him ever having to ask. Like some sort of spell.
Without breaking away, his fingers slowly slipped from you ever so slowly, drawing a soft whine from you straight into the kiss. You felt the faint curve of his smile against your lips. Then his hands were on you again, firm and sure as he hoisted you up against him and carried you away from the wall.
The edge of your desk met the backs of your thighs as he eased you onto it with controlled care, settling you against the surface. You felt the edges and corners of the sheets of paper you’d just been working on minutes ago right beneath you, itching and poking at your skin.
With one last, teasing bite to your bottom lip, he pulled back from your kiss-swollen lips with a devilish glint in his eyes.
He lifted his fingers to his mouth—the ones previously teasing you beyond measure—and licked them clean of you without breaking his hazy gaze from you. You could tell he was doing it just to mess with you—and it was working unfortunately well.
Your attention drifted to the thing repeatedly pressing against your inner thigh, and a mix of curiosity and anticipation washed over you.
Given the size of him—his body, his hands, his limbs—you had expected him to be a certain… size. And in a way, he met those expectations. But to feel the bulge of him so intimately pressed against you made it hit you all at once—now that your bodies were pressed close to flush against one another.
This man was big.
Your hand reached towards the hem of his pants, almost instinctively, before his own hand caught yours by the thin of your wrist. Looking back up at him you noticed the corner of his mouth curled upwards. “Not now, pretty girl.”
Your head tilted in response. “Why not?”
“Some other time. Jus’ wanna focus on you today,” he brought your hand within his towards himself, leaving a couple of gentle pecks along the inside of your wrist.
“But what about you?”
“I’ll enjoy you, baby,” he leaned back in, pausing just an inch before, a devilishly charming smirk resting on him. “Don’t worry your pretty head about it.”
His lips found yours again, trading a few more heated kisses before drifting to the corner of your mouth, along the line of your jaw, and down to your already tender neck.
He roamed your body with no shame, tracing your every line—from the swell of your chest to the plush of your hips. Groping at your sides and circling your waist with his hands, before pushing you backwards for you to lean against the wall behind you, forcing himself between your legs, casually.
His hands found their way between them again, collecting the slick on his fingers, before lazily drawing patterns over your pulsing, sore clit, drawing all sorts of sounds and reactions from you as passively pumped his fingers in and out of you every now and then, like it was just second nature to him.
His kisses trailed downward—past your heaving chest, along the curve of your stomach, across the warmth of your thighs—before his head finally settled between your legs, where he left a mix of teasing love-bites and gentle, lingering pecks on the insides of your thighs.
“You’re very kissable,” he commented from his position on his knees, looking up at you as he guided your legs to rest atop his shoulders.
The sight was charged—this huge man, both in height and breadth, overwhelming in body mass and bearing the authority of the head of your team, kneeling there in front of you. Something about the commanding way he held himself even in that submissive posture.
It didn’t make him any less impressive—or any smaller—in your eyes. If anything, the juxtaposition only made him more magnetic.
He looked fucking hot.
His hair all messed up, lips kiss-swollen, mirroring your own, skin covered in a thin layer of sweat, eyes dazed with pleasure and radiating the sheer power he naturally carried. His brow was quirked ever so slightly, a faint, mischievous smile on his face.
“Is that why you bit my neck raw?” you asked, looking down at him through your own daze, fingers grazing through the short strands of his hair, not much bite in your voice despite your words.
He huffed a laugh, and your heart skipped a beat.
“M’about to do much worse than just eat your neck, babygirl,” he said lowly, his hot breath traveling past the thin skin of your inner thighs, his gaze traveling downwards.
And with that, his tongue dipped through your folds, dragging a slow lick up your heated, pulsing core. Your breath shuddered, your hand gripping at his hair to anchor yourself as he worked you up.
His hands wrapped around your thighs, your feet resting on his shoulders as he pinned you against his face, tongue dragging up and down through your folds and making a point to flick your sensitive, aching clit in the process.
“E–Enjin… ah—s’ so good.”
You felt him suck it into his mouth, toying with it between his lips before letting it go in a wet kiss and continuing his assault. You felt like the meal of a starving man.
He had no shame in the way he was eating you—the sounds he was making, the way he was practically making out with you. What you’d yearned to feel was finally coming true, and your body and mind seemed to sing with the relief he was finally granting you.
He pressed the flat of his tongue against your clit, rhythmically dragging it up and down. His fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs, holding you against him as to leave no room for escape—at least not until he was done with you.
This man you’d known to be so indulgent in his own pleasure now shifting his focus entirely onto you left an impact that would haunt you for the rest of your life. No one had ever treated you the way he did, touched you the way he had—made you feel the way he was making you feel.
You’d certainly never experienced anyone going down on you of their own free will—let alone seeming to take pleasure in it themselves.
No man, no less.
And yet, here he was, caging you against him, just in case the pleasure he was giving you became too much to handle—which, judging by the way it was building up, it already was starting to feel that way. He definitely wasn’t letting you go.
The friction drove you crazy, made you feel as though you were floating and falling all at once. You couldn’t decide whether to pull him even closer or push him away, but you knew that everything about him felt so fucking good and something was building up inside of you that only he could unravel.
One of his hands loosened its grip on your thigh, sliding down and around it, before two fingers began pumping into you, curling against the spot Enjin had claimed the moment you had guided his hands between your legs.
“Ah—please don’t stop,” you writhed and you whined, eyes shutting close at the overwhelming feeling of him flooding your senses.
“M’right here, baby,” he breathed against you, before turning his attention back to your puffy clit, fingers deep and curled inside you.
Pleasure twisted into an intoxicating kind of pain—the rare kind that made you ache to explore it even more. It burned, it stung, sharp and sweet all at once, and yet you knew with absolute certainty that if he stopped right now you would shatter into a million miserable pieces.
Without warning, he suckled your clit into his mouth again, flicking his tongue over it as his fingers pumped in and out of you with relentless rhythm. Your legs instinctively clamped around his head, trying to shut out the overwhelming sensation, to push him away—to no avail.
Your body reacted on its own, trying to relieve the strain he was putting on you, but your mind wanted nothing more than to keep him as close as humanly possible.
“M‘ gonna… please… s’so much,” you whimpered, forever torn between pulling him closer and trying to escape.
That only seems to edge him on as he raised the intensity, moving harder and faster in every way imaginable and making you see stars and cry his name like a desperate prayer.
“Enjin—fuck, s‘so good, please-”
Your climax crashed over you, leaving you trembling in the wake of it.
Like the good man he’d proven himself to be, he guided you through it, helping you ride the wave, tracing lazy circles over your clit with his tongue while his fingers moved in slow, languid rhythm. Finally, he pulled back with one last, gentle kiss to your now tender and abused clit.
He slowly rose to his full height, hands flat on the surface of the table, encasing your pleasure-drained body, your torso leaning half against the wall.
“If I had known you taste this good I’d have done this a lot sooner,” he smiled, catching your lips in a kiss you couldn’t resist if you tried.
“Mm,” you replied in a haze, returning the pecks he was giving you and tasing yourself on lips tongue. “Can I return the favor?”
“As much as I’d love to see you try, baby,” he smiles, helping you off the desk as he scoops you into his arms effortlessly, making his way to the bathroom with you. “How about we take a hot shower together and I take you out on a date first?”
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PT2 >>> detergent & sweets
CREDIT WHERE CREDIT IS DUE :3
thanks to my amazing beta readers @zukunyy and @imjusttrashignoreme
thanks to my boyfriend who helped me write a service top because he just can
and thanks to @pixopix for the dividers :3
A/N: AND THANK U GUYS FOR READING <333 I’m planning a part 2 to this because I need me so dom Enjin and I’m actually more of a fan of oral m!receiving anyway sooo yeah that’s gonna happen hopefully :3 again, thanks for reading—I’d appreciate a reblog if you liked it ･:*+.\(( °ω° ))/.:+ if you have any requests you can definitely lmk
hiii.. am back... this is the first part of cc I made last year that is… messy & a little rough around the edges but still cute! was originally gonna put everything up as one post but rendering takes forever & I need sleep lol. so more to come soon!!
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Pairing: Bestie!Enjin x Black!Fem!Reader (Friends to Lovers)
Synopsis: You love it when Enjin smokes. You especially love it when he takes you out to dance and party. Only because it gives you a chance to be close to him without it being weird or feeling guilty about it. Secretly, you've been attracted to your friend for some time now and it doesn't help when he looks so fucking good smoking blunts and those cancer sticks. You ache for him to put you in his mouth like that, but you've always pushed these feelings aside...until a simple smoke and dance session turns into something more when Enjin poses as your boyfriend for the night.
Warnings: 18+ (MDNI); Reader Has Braids; Clubbing; Secret Crush; Sexual Tension; Mutual Pining; Finger/Hand Kink; Shotgunning; Marijuana & Alcohol; Tipsy/High Sex; Crush Confession; Alley Way/Public Sex; Deepthroat; Spitting; Enjin Got A Big Ol' Dick; Dick Piercing; Nipple Piercings; Tattoo Kink; Clothed Sex; Pussy Eating; Fingering; Daddy Kink; Switchy Dom!Enjin x switchy sub!Reader; Against The Wall; PIV; No Creampie; Cum On Ass; Aftercare
Word Count: 9.7k
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!
Writer's Note: My very first Enjin one shot is HERE!!! EVERYBODY CLAP!!! If you know me, you know I loooooove me some Gachiakuta & some of that tall hot dumb ass blonde. I'm so excited for S2 & if y'all haven't watched the show yet PLEASE DO IT. Gachiakuta is so goddamn good it should be illegal. I hope y'all enjoy this one! <3 -love, Jazz
Credits: Divider made by @cursed-carmine!
READ ON AO3 HERE!
Song · 2023 · Duration 3:07
Enjin's golden-yellow eyes, sharp like a cat's, slightly hooded from the tequila he consumed and the marijuana smoke wafting through the air, slowly slide over to look at you curiously. "You’re starin’ at me."
You blink at him, having momentarily impaired hearing due to the pounding of the rap music throbbing against the walls and your temples...
And since you've been staring at his fingers and mouth for the past ten minutes. "What? No, I’m not."
But you were and you still are as Enjin's plump, sultry lips pull into a smirk as he takes another drag of his cigarette.
He holds it between his thumb and forefinger, big, thick, and roped in that seductive ink like the rest of his hands. "You are. Like dead center, mama. It’s kinda freakin’ me out."
Enjin's golden-yellow eyes, sharp like a cat's, slightly hooded from the tequila he consumed and the marijuana smoke wafting through the air, slowly slide over to look at you curiously. "You’re starin’ at me.”
You blink at him, having momentarily impaired hearing due to the pounding of the rap music throbbing against the walls and your temples...and since you've been staring at his fingers and mouth for the past five minutes. "What? No, I’m not.”
But you were and you still are as Enjin's plump, sultry lips pull into a smirk as he takes another drag of his cigarette. He holds it between his thumb and forefinger, big, thick, and roped in that seductive ink like the rest of his hands. "You are. Like dead center, mama. It’s kinda freakin’ me out."
He then gives you that humorous smirk he is known for, crooked and silly, meaning that he’s joking the way only Enjin, leader of the Cleaners and your closest friend, can. You tsk, shoving him roughly in his muscular arm. “Shut up. No, I wasn’t.”
The blonde just chuckles, smoke billowing from his lips as he does so. It wafts through the marijuana-scented air, courtesy of every single person at this party being Mary Jane lovers, with a few who are more prone to cigarettes and vapes.
"I promise you were," he laughingly says. "What, don’t like the smell? I got somethin’ on my face?" He begins to touch on his cheeks and lips, trying to check out his appearance.
You laugh, flicking the cigarette between his fingers. "Yeah, that cancer stick of yours. You know how I feel about those things, Jin."
Enjin just tsks, clucking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he puffs on his cig despite your indifference and intolerance to it. "Please!" he scoffs. "You've been drinkin' like a fish since we left for the party and you wanna talk about me smokin' the stuff I always smoke?"
You glare at him even though he's right about you pregaming something bad before you left for a Canvas Town party. The colorful, graffiti-ridden town is the exact place you'd want to be for a party. You'll find the most colorful people in one room from all over the world, forced together in the Pit and trying to find any slice of normalcy and fun that they can.
The music is loud and vibrates throughout the room, making the bass pound against the graffiti-slick walls and against your temples. Your head feels slightly foggy from the smoke curling in the air and the tequila shots you did with the gang before heading out the door.
Gris drove, much to Enjin's dismay, but at least Enjin got the Aux cord this time around. "Nobody wants to listen to that Taylor Swift shit you got on your phone, Gris!" he laughed at the driver. "Hey, Siri, play me some Cardi B!"
The entire ride was filled with rap battles and you sneaking sips with Riyo of the extra bottle of peach vodka she packed in her bag. Between a couple sips and three tequila shots, you were damn well drunk. You only did it as a way to gain some liquid courage for yet another social outing with your sexy best friend who you are absolutely, embarrassingly attracted to....
And refuse to tell him. It is something you have sworn off uttering even to yourself. Enjin and you have too tight of a bond for it to be tainted by your stupid affections and borderline perverted thoughts.
Even though you long to feel his tatted fingers squeezing parts of you that you squeeze in the late night.
Or feel his tongue, tasting of ash, swirling with yours in a heated kiss.
Or see if that legendary theory on big men being big everywhere else is true for a mammoth of a man like the tall, hot blonde standing next to you. 'God,' you think to yourself, disgusted with such limping. 'You're fucking pathetic, bitch.'
Luckily, Semiu, your best girl, comes strutting over with Rudo in tow, looking totally bewildered and slightly scared of such an environment. She dances over to you and Enjin against the wall, away from the rest of the dancing crowd under the flashing strobe lights casting rainbow colors all across the room. She is dressed in her party best: a tight, cut-out top cropped to her midriff, hip-hugging jeans, and boots.
"Not you two over here arguin'," she chuckles, sipping on her Jack n Coke. "Girl, you know Enjin ain't gonna stop with them cigarettes just 'cause they piss you off...or not." She whispers the last word with a knowing smirk and you glare at her.
"Or not?" Enjin parrots, raising a curious brow at your mutual friend. "Watchu mean? From what I'm see, this short stack is about to bite my hand off." He teases you by placing his big hand on your head, making you shove him away. He just loves teasing you for your shortness.
It doesn't help that you often imagine his tall, fine ass scooping you up, carrying you around like his personal princess, and fucking you up against the wall. 'Damn,' you think. 'I shouldn't have drank so much.'
You're about to give Semiu your red solo cup of spiked fruit punch that you've only been casually sipping on for the past 30 minutes, but then here comes Zanka stumbling over, drunk as fuck because the guy swears he can hold is liquor. "Ah, there you guys are!" he hollers, tipsy. "They stocked up on more of those Jell-O shots at the bar if you want any. I fought for these two."
He shows off two cherry red and blue raspberry shots, flashing a smile at you and the crew. Riyo comes over too, shimmying her hips to the music in her skirt and kicks, a beer in her hand. Enjin welcomes his unofficial daughter over to stand with him, causing him to rub his arm against yours.
The slight touch and the scent of his cologne, spicy yet sweet, nearly make you jump out of your skin. So you decide that you need something stronger than the spiked punch in your cup.
"I'll take one," you say and practically snatch the cherry one. "Thanks, Zanka." You down it in one go, surprising Enjin and Semiu who have been watching you and your usual alcohol intake closely tonight. "Jeez, take it easy, tiger," Enjin mutters, taking the cup and downing the rest after you. Kind of like an indirect kiss.
You don't get a chance to think too deeply into it because the tall blonde is clapping an arm on Rudo's shoulder like a certified uncle. "Rudo, nephew! Ya want some shots?"
That's a whole child, Enjin!" you scoff with a scowl. "He can't drink!" The scraggly, mean-looking kid shoots you a glare, arms crossed over his chest. "I can too! I've had plenty alcohol before I was put down here!"
Riyo chuckles and steps in, wrapping an around around Rudo's neck. "Don't worry, Rudo. I'm sure I can work my magic on the bartender. C'mon!" She gives you a wink and walks off with her long legs in tow, disappearing with Rudo into the crowd. Zanka follows, yelling for Riyo to wait for him.
Enjin sighs, already looking disappointed at his buzz being ruined by some oncoming BS. "Lemme go follow 'em before the bar guy hits on her." He takes another drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out against the wall where other cigarette smudges stain the graffiti.
His golden eyes trail over you and Semiu still plastered on the wall. "You two stay here. This place is like a fuckin' maze." And it is–you feel like the crowd has turned into walls themselves, boxing you into the sweat-slick room. "You're tellin' me what to do now?" you scoff. "What a daddy you are."
You regret the words, emboldened by the alcohol and contact high, as soon as they are out of your mouth. But Enjin only smirks, raising a brow at you. "I could be, but you ain't ready for that conversation yet. I mean, I'm already your man for tonight, ain't I?"
You are silent, unable to reply, so he gives you a wink and vanishes into the crowd, but not entirely. He's too tall to not stand out in the throng of people with his long limbs, tattoos, and radiating confidence.
Truly the perfect fake boyfriend for tonight's festivities. You had gotten sick and tired of strange, lustful men bothering you at parties and nights out at the club, so you proposed the idea to Enjin. Really as a joke, but the man took it seriously. "Well, why don't I just act like I'm your man for the night?" he suggested. "I'll warn you though: some dudes won't even care, but they will once they get my foot up their ass."
And so he's been taking his role seriously, placing a hand on your back and brushing hair out of your face, all within the confines of this party. Never outside...even though you'd very much like it to be.
Now alone with Semiu, your best girl and the only one who knows your deepest, darkest secret, she takes a chance on bringing it up. "So how's that thing with pretendin' you're not in love with Enjin and you don't want him to be your boyfriend goin'?" she bluntly asks.
You roll your eyes as she smokes her vape, the scent of pineapple wafting through the air. "Don't start. Enjin is just my fake boyfriend tonight for safety reasons. And I'm not in love with him."
You give her a 'come hither' motion with a flick of your glossy, red nails and she passes the vape. You don't usually smoke the way Enjin does, preferring edibles over blunts or E-pens, but you need something to take the edge off. You take a slow drag of the vape, the scent and slight taste of pineapple hitting your nostrils and tastebuds.
Between the alcohol and the vapor, you feel dizzy and faded. Unsteady, so you hold onto the wall for balance. Semiu notices and takes the vape from you...and your cup. "No. You just wanna suck the skin off his—"
"Semiu!" you gasp, flushing hot. The tall, ebony-skinned girl laughs, waving a hand. "Oh, c'mon, honey! It ain't no secret to me. You've been eye-fuckin' the dude for years."
"Not true," you huff. Semiu just gives you a knowing look behind her spectacles, not even believing your utter bullshit. "And fine, okay, I like him...but how do you expect me to tell him when we've been friends for so long? It'll never happen!"
Semiu raises an eyebrow, confused. "Why? 'Cause you think he'd reject you? He'd be stupider than he is now to do that."
You smile at your bestie's compliment, kissing her cheek and making it sticky with your cherry-flavored Fenty Beauty lip oil. "You're sweet, but that's not it. It's just that..."
You trail off, biting your lip, but Semiu understands. Only she can. You both know that Enjin gets around. It isn't entirely his fault since he was born with some attractive genes...including his big dick that you've only managed to glimpse at in his basketball shorts and grey sweats. How can you expect him not to be the apple of everyone's eye?
Though you can't help the green envy that courses through you when you hear the headboard banging and the moans drifting through the bedroom wall after he brings a new conquest home from the club or the bar.
"Plus, I'm not even his type," you continue, embracing yourself as the booze and smoke begins to intensify your disappointment. "Enjin likes the taller, thicker chicks."
Semiu raises a brow at you, her golden eyes flickering down to your backside. "Are you not thick?" she asks, staring dead at your ass. "'Cause from what I see, sweetie, you're like a snicker."
You grin, flushing at her compliment. You're a short girl who has been blessed with thick thighs, big tits, and a shapely figure curtesy of your ass and wide hips. You have your littering of cellulite on your asscheeks and stretch marks on your thighs, but you've always carried these imperfections with confidence.
But with Enjin, it's a different story. Not that you'd ever change yourself for him, but to not be the type of girl that your crush wants you to be is damn near a tearjerker. It's like the universe is laughing at you in some way.
Speaking of the universe fucking with you, it continues to fuck with you some more by sending over a new courter that isn't the man who'd want it to be. "From what I see too," an unfamiliar voice says.
You and Semiu turn, facing a tall man with long dreads despite his pasty skin and emerald green eyes. He is obviously drunk—the guy can barely stand on his own two feet and nearly sloshes his bottle of Henny on himself. "Sorry but I couldn't help but notice you from across the room. You single?"
You blink at the man, momentarily dumbfounded by his sudden appearance. "Um—"
"Nah," Enjin suddenly answers for you. You squeak in surprise when you find him standing by your empty side, now holding a blunt between those wickedly long, inked fingers. "Sorry, man, but she's with me. I'm her boyfriend."
The man scoffs, grinning mockingly at Enjin. "You? With them painted nails?"
You can tell Enjin is getting irritated by the way his smile sharpens and a crease in his brows appears. He barely gets mad (only when someone is fucking with his friends), but when he does, he's an entirely different person. "Yep," he answers, popping the p. "And they're hot, ain't they? She painted 'em for me. She likes how they look on her."
He takes his black-painted fingers and interlaces them with yours, red and black together. You swallow hard at the zing of electricity that shoots through you at the sudden contact, even if it's supposed to be fake.
Enjin smirks at the drunk man, cocking his head at him. "Anythin' else you wanna know, dickhead? Or do I have to make you get out of her face?" He still swears that smirk but it is sharp. Edged. A silent dare to try him. "Whatever," the guy scoffs, sipping on his Henny and getting more on him than in him. "She's too short anyway."
Then he stalks off as the music transitions to something dancehall based, the upbeat drums and guitar speaking to you. "You didn't have to do that," you tell Enjin, your voice slightly breathless. "Semiu would've choked him."
Semiu nods, having gotten closer to you since the guy arrived. Enjin snorts, rolling his eyes. "And risk her scratchin' up her lens? Plus, it's my job as your boyfriend tonight to fend off the horny bastards in your face."
He squeezes your hand and you now realize that his hand is still locked with yours. His skin, lighter and slightly golden despite No Man's Land being void of sunlight, completely contrasts your melanated skin the way your bright red nails do. You find it sexy.
Realizing what's happening OR what may happen, Semiu clears her throat and bumps her hip with yours. "Well, if y'all will excuse me, I'm gonna go catch me a dance." Before you can protest or cuss her out, she saunters away to catch a whine with the pretty dark-skinned beauty with the seashells in her Afro standing by the bar.
Then it's just you and Enjin, the very reason it's so hard to breathe sometimes. This is so stupid! He's your best friend and here you are acting like a lovesick, simpin'-ass girl around him! You're so sick of yourself that you crave another drink just to kick this fluttery feeling that makes you feel so awkward around him.
"Want a hit, shorty?" he suddenly asks. You turn, seeing him draw smoke from his blunt. His black nails glisten beneath the strobe lights as do his eyes, becoming red from the marijuana kicking in his system.
"Don't call me that," you scoff, kicking his shin, making him chuckle. "And no, I'm good. Direct hits make me dizzy." Hence why you don't smoke like that. Plus, if you get this aroused off the drank, how can you trust yourself with weed?
You watch as smoke billows out of Enjin's nostrils and from between his parted lips, making butterflies swarm your tummy. "I could always shotgun ya." You raise an eyebrow at this, confused. "Shotgun? What's that?"
The blonde quirks a brow at you, curious and shocked. "You don't know what a shotgun is? When someone blows smoke in your mouth?"
Your eyes widen an inch at the idea of him doing that you and you slip your hand out of his, only realizing now that he's been still holding it. "Boy, what?" you guffaw. "Nah, I'm good with all that."
Too late, you realize how harsh you come off to Enjin, seeing his lips crease into a frown. You don't mean it to come off so bitchy towards him, but it's hard when all you want to do is kiss him and suck the smoke out of his mouth into yours. He peers down at you, alarmed and worried. "You sure you're okay? You're kinda on edge. Is it that guy?"
Under his stare of pure worry for you, you feel guilt slice into you. Why are you acting like this? Why is it so hard for you to push these feelings to the side? "No, no, I..." You pause, sighing. "Sorry. I guess it's all the people. I can only handle all of these people for so long."
Which isn't exactly a lie. As much as you love a good night out partying, at some point being around a slew of drunk, faded strangers drains your battery. Enjin knowingly smiles, still puffing on his blunt. His hooded eyes combined with the clouds of smoke floating through the air makes you clench your thighs together under your dress.
"Mmm-hmm, I getcha. That's what the blunts and the booze are for. Takes the edge off and makes you real friendly." He winks at you, playful yet comforting. "Real friendly?" you giggle. "Is that why I'm always hearin' that headboard?"
Now it's Enjin's turn to blush, his cheeks turning a bright rogue. "Fuck you. That's private!" You tsk, raising an eyebrow up at him. "For it to be so private, you're awfully loud." Enjin feigns embarrassment, plastering on that signature smirk. "You're just mad 'cause you wish it was you."
It's a quip that only he can make given your relationship—built on platonic flirting that you've been thinking about more and more lately—, but the comment makes your pulse pound and gives you a second heartbeat. Because you do. You really, really do want it to be you.
But you also don't want to just be another hookup for Enjin either, so you push the thought away and give his quip right back on a silver platter. "Well, I've seen the guys you've brought home before. They're fine as fuck."
Enjin's easy-going smile falters a bit and the light in his eyes flickers. "Oh...you meant with the other guys. Y-Yeah, that's what I meant." He clears his throat and looks away, taking another hit of his blunt, his cheeks still stained red.
You're confused. The sudden switch in his attitude is like a switch flicking. Did you say something wrong? Before you can think too deep into it, the music shifts to a song you both know and the familiar beat ignites something in you.
Enjin smirks at you, already knowing you ache to move. "C'mon, let's dance," he suggests. You whine in protest and he rolls his eyes at your defiance. "C'moooon, don't tell me your social battery is so low that you don't even wanna dance with me!"
Those golden eyes like sunken treasure glittering with mirth, so familiar and so alluring, sink their hooks in you. Though the idea of being pressed against him on the crowded dance floor fills you with butterflies, you cannot resist him or his big, outstretched hand.
"Okay, fine," you giggle, taking his hand. "Let's dance...if you get me another drink." He smiles, puffing his blunt and blowing the smoke out away from your pretty face. "I can do that, no problem."
His thumb strokes your knuckles, trying to comfort you. "Just follow me," he says, his voice husky, crackling over your body like flames. You'd follow him to fucking space if he asked you to.
After he gets you another drink–a margarita this time–, he whisks you away to the dance floor. Throughout the short trip from the bar to the floor, he keeps his hands in yours, leading you through the maze of sweaty bodies. You can't help but think about how he'd for sure do this if he was your boyfriend and you were his girlfriend, the thought conjured by the warmth of his palm and the alcohol in your system.
When you finally get to the dance floor, the music shifts to another familiar dancehall song. One that has made you move your hips and wind your body in private in the past.
"Oooo, I love this song!" you laugh, finally feeling good with the music and the tequila in your system. Enjin smiles at your joy, standing with you in the middle of the floor, surrounded by strangers. You couldn't leave even if you tried, too boxed in between body after body.
You begin to dance, one hand on your drink and the other still holding Enjin's hand as you slowly move your hips from side to side, missing the way your friend gazes down at your waist. Suddenly, he releases your hand and wraps his big palm around your waist, pulling you closer. "C'mere, come close. I don't like the way these dudes are actin'."
You squeak as you're pushed against him, unaware of what he means besides the expected, obnoxious screaming and laughing from the scattering of drunk men around you with their friends.
You are now right against Enjin's chest, his hand laying on your waist. It isn't something that is foreign to you; not even dancing with him. There have been times where you've tossed ass on Enjin and he's caught what you've thrown, his hands securely on your waist.
But then again, those times were before you developed this stupid crush on him. You make the mistake of staring up at him, your heart flip-flopping when you realize that he's already looking at you. "Dance with me?" he suggests, the question coming out husky and rasped.
Liquid fire pools into your gut as you begin to sway with him despite the fast-paced dancehall beat, his hand still locked on your waist as he smokes his blunt with the other. His eyes are plastered on you. Only on you. You try to tell yourself that it's just for safety, but when he twirls you around to fit your back against his front, you're starting to think that maybe this "pretend boyfriend" role-play shit isn't so "pretend" anymore.
Enjin moves with you, never grinding into your ass but instead moving his hips with yours, side to side, becoming one. You find yourself leaning back into him, letting him engulf you into his big, muscular body and spicy scent. You aren't sure if this is even appropriate anymore. Was it ever appropriate before?
When you turn back around, those eyes like liquid gold are still on you, making it impossible to breathe properly. He puffs on his blunt as he peers down at you, those blonde flashes framing his black-rimmed eyes. "You sure you don't want a hit? Ya keep starin' at my blunt."
He smirks at you, flashing those pearly whites at you. He doesn't realize that you're staring because you imagine that the blunt is you instead. If only he could peer into your mind and see the nasty, lustful thoughts in it.
Every time you blink, you see those plush, pink lips sucking on your throbbing clit the way he does the blunt, those thick, long fingers disappearing inside of your dripping hole, curling up to make you scream in pleasure.
You swallow, breaking out into a nervous sweat that soaks your sundress. "N-No, really, I..." You trail off, your eyes drifting down to the blunt held firmly between his fingers. Fuck it. "You know what? I change my mind. Gimme a hit."
Enjin grins and passes you the blunt. "Theeeere we go," he praises. You've watched him smoke enough to know what to do and slowly take a drag, letting the smoke fill your lungs. You cough slightly from the first hit, but after another, it's smooth sailing.
When you blow the smoke from between your lips in an O ring, you feel relaxed and heavy like your bones have turned to jelly. The blonde grins, taking the blunt back from you. "Atta girl. Nice and relaxed now, right?"
He couldn't be farther from the truth. Even though the blunt has allowed you to become looser, it has also heightened your arousal...or maybe that's just Enjin laying his hand on your hip, pulling you close to him. You squeak, nearly kissing his chest with how close you are pressed against him."What are you doing?" you whisper.
You stare up at him, confused, but he looks so sure of himself and his actions. Does he want this? "I'm supposed to be actin' as your boyfriend tonight, right? Why not play the part?"
"Y-Yeah, but your hand..." You bite your lip, not sure how to finish your sentence. Do you want to tell him to stop? To keep going? To go lower?
"Is it too much?" he murmurs, the scent of marijuana on his tongue. "I can stop. Just tell me what you need." His voice is husky and smooth like Bourbon in your ear, making goose pimples pop all over your brown skin.
'You. I need you.' The thought comes out of nowhere, conjured by the blunt; the drinks; the atmosphere; the colorful dancehall music playing above you. Your hands itch to touch him and stroke his body. to feel his muscles under your fingertips. With how close you are, you could stand on your toes and kiss him right now, finally taking what you need—
"Jesus!" Enjin grunts, catching you when you nearly tumble with your margarita, sloshing it onto the floor. His arm snakes protectively around you, holding you as close as humanly possible against him. A girl stumbles by in her platform heels, sloppy and drunk. "Sorry!" she shouts, giving you a little wave before disappearing into the crowd.
Enjin looks down at you, concern written on his handsome face. "You good?" he whispers, still holding onto you tight. You're surprised you can even speak—the lump in your throat has gotten increasingly bigger. "Y-Yeah. Sorry, I-I need some air." The room feels too hot and tight, like the air has been sucked out of the room.
Immediately, the blonde is on it, jaw set and eyes determined. His only mission is getting you the fuck off the floor and outside. "C'mon, let's get outta here. I know a way out." He takes your hand and you ignore the electric shock that soars through you when he pulls you through the throng of people.
The nightclub that the party is located in has two floors; one of the most popular clubs in Canvas Town. Enjin leads you to the far back behind the bar and opens a door leading you into a narrow hallway, the walls littered in dark graffiti. The music and noise becomes muffled as he leads you through the hall and then vanishes once you're outside.
Or as "outside" as you can be down in the Pit. There are only the quiet businesses, graffitied walls, you, and Enjin. The only windows to the world up above are the few pocket holes hovering above you, the night sky glistening from above. The stars twinkle at you as does the big, fat moon, illuminating you...and your friend's dashingly good looks.
You drink in his eyes, sharp and alluring like a cat's; his dimpled cheeks; his angular nose and jawline; his long, blonde flashes and messy tufts of hair; the black and red ink lacing up his thick neck and underneath the collar of his jacket. God, why must he be so goddamn fine?!
"Ah, much better," he deeply sighs, tapping his blunt to sprinkle ashes on the ground. "Fresher air out here. O-Oh, my bad." He looks down at his hand still locked with yours and releases it, much to your disappointment. "It's fine," you mutter.
Silence descends upon you, a strange combination of awkward and content. There is still that edge of temptation still lingering at the surface...at least for you it is. You peek over at Enjin still puffing on the blunt, inhaling and exhaling, looking so calm. "Uh...s-so how exactly does that shotgun thing work?" you blurt out.
He turns to look at you, surprise flickering in his eyes. You're just as surprised as he is. Do you have any idea what you're alluding to asking this?!
"Uh...well, I'd have to lean down and blow the smoke in your mouth. You get high without hittin' the blunt." As if to demonstrate, he inhales the smoke and exhales, blowing an O ring through the air between you.
"So it's like an indirect kiss?" You aren't sure where the question comes from. They come out of you like word vomit, emboldened by the mixture of tequila and vodka in you. The blonde's eyes widen an inch, taken aback by your candor. "Well, if you say like that, then it's weird."
He chuckles a bit to ease the tension, but it doesn't help at all. You feel stupid. Dumb. Weird. "Oh," you reply, withering, looking away from him. "My bad. Forget I said anything. I-I don't know why—"
"Shut up," Enjin cuts in. His voice is deeper and blunt, making you button your lip (and your pussy throb). "Look at me." You do so, drowning in those eyes and the blue hue all over his face from the night closing in. "Tilt your chin up and part your lips in an O."
You do so, your lips trembling. The only sounds are of your shaky breaths and the muffled music from the club. Enjin smirks, those dimples popping. "You're shakin'," he sniggers. You shove at his chest; he barely even moves. "Shut up."
He gently brushes your arm, his touch electrifying as well as comforting. "Relax, mamas. It's just me." You shiver at his nickname for you even though Enjin is known for giving nicknames to you since you became friends: mamas; babes; baby; sweetheart; sunshine (when he's sarcastic); munchkin (when he's being a dick).
"Now close your eyes," he whispers. You tentatively do as he asks, your eyelids fluttering shut, cloaking you in darkness. You hear him inhale from the blunt and rasp out, "Take the hit" before a long rush of marijuana smoke enters your open mouth.
You take it all in and hold it in your chest, your heart hammering so fast that you're afraid you'll topple over. You exhale, the air knocked out of your lungs. "See? Nice, right?" His voice is silkier. Huskier than usual.
When you open your eyes, he is right there, mere inches from you, eyes hooded and lips looking more kissable than usual. You can't ignore it anymore–that heartbeat below or the tingling in your core at him being so near. He gazes at you so intimately, like...not as a friend should. "Enjin?" you question.
"Y/N," he says back, like it's an answer. He leans down and you lean up, slow and careful. Giving the other a chance to refuse the other. Neither one of you do. "We really shouldn't," he mutters, but then but then the blunt falls to the ground, forgotten, and his lips are suddenly on yours.
Your suspensions are validated: Enjin is a fantastic kisser. He kisses you slowly yet deeply, not being too rough or too soft. His lips are the right kind of soft and plump, reminding you of silk. Gently, he cups your jaw as he kisses you, swooping you up in his taste.
A soft moan of surprise leaves your lips before you fall into the kiss, your lips melding with his. He swallows your mewls and soft moans as he kisses you down, making his mouth sticky with your gloss. He gives you those moans right back, desperate and yearning, as you grip his shoulders and biceps, feeling him up. "Enjin," you softly whine. "What are you doing?"
Enjin pulls away enough to pant against your lips, sucking on your bottom lip. "What I should've fuckin' done a long time ago," he growls before his lips are back on yours, silencing you, making you dizzy with his taste.
You are totally high off of him. Higher than the weed could ever make you or take you.
You can feel how warm and hard he is as your hands indulge in his body under his layers of oversized clothes. His big hands drag down your back, feeling you up. They end up falling on the curve of your ass poking out of your dress. You end up pressed against the wall, caught between the solid stone and him.
"I'm sorry, babe," he exhales, "but I've wanted you. I always wanted to tell you..." He pauses as a groan leaves his lips when he presses into you, his hips molding with yours.
You grind against his crotch as your hands stroke up his chest and his squeeze and mold the thick, soft globes of your ass under your dress, fingertips against skin. How you've ached for this. Longed for a taste. But reality is still there at the back of your mind. "Jin," you moan. "What about us? We're friends."
As if realizing this, he pulls away, eyes lust blown and lips parted. "We can stop if you want. All you need to do is say it and I'll do it." But the more he's here and the more you touch him, smell him, taste him, you know that you can never go back to being friends.
So why not jump in headfirst? "Don't stop," you keen. "Keep going." And how can he ever say no to pretty little you?
Quickly, he kisses you again, pushing you back against the wall. Instinctively, your hands trail down to cup his ass in his jeans, causing him to slip between your thighs as he continues to kiss you. He groans against your lips as you sigh into his mouth, sparks of pleasure exploding through you as he grazes your clit through your panties.
"God, you feel so fuckin' good," he groans. "Holdin' you like this on the dance floor..." His hands grip your ass a little more, possessive, making you moan. "I needed more. Needed to keep you close." One hand trails up your back to caress your spine while the other rests on your ass, coaxing you to continue to grind your hips into him.
His lips coat your throat in wet kisses, making you feel like a kettle about to burst. You need him now or you'll for sure go insane. "Enjin!" you whine. "Lower! I need you right here." Boldly, you take his hand and place it on your throbbing, beating pussy.
He stares at your hand and then at you, gobsmacked. "R-Right here?" he stammers. "Anyone could see—"
"I don't care," you whine, lust and need wrapping you up in a tight hold. "I want this...if you're okay with it." You know you're coming off as a needy slut right now, but goddammit, you've waited too long for this! Luckily, Enjin quite likes this side of you and gives you a panty-dropping smile. "God, baby, I always knew you was a freak, but not like this."
He begins to palm you through your panties, making you grind your wet, puffy slit against his palm. "You're so needy f'me that you want me to eat this pussy out in the open? That's so fuckin' hot."
He then replaces his hand with his cock, grinding his bulge against your panties, making you see stars. "God!" you gasp. His chuckle is soft and husky, filling your ears. "Can ya feel what you've done t'me, babe? I've never been this fuckin' hard in my life."
His hands grip your tits and begin to massage them through your dress, your hard nipples sensitive and rubbing against the fabric. "Wanted you so bad. Needed you for so long." To hear him say this nearly drives you to the brink of insanity and you nearly pounce on him. "M-Me too!" you whine. "Fuck, Enjin, just taste me! I can't take much more!"
Enjin's brow quirks at you, expectant. "What's the magic word?" You bite your glossy, sticky bottom lip, pressing your thighs tight together to avoid leaking down your legs. "Please," you whisper. "Please taste me."
He physically shivers at your breathless, sweet voice filling his eardrums and gives you a hot, sloppy, panty-dropping kiss. "Aww, that's a good girl," he coos. "Ask and you shall receive." You watch as he kneels before you and hikes your thigh up over one of his broad shoulders. "Relax," he murmurs, rubbing the outside of your thigh with his thumb. "I've gotchu."
"I-I know," you pant. He always does. Always so attentive and safe, your Enjin. Always keeping his family close to him no matter what. How you adore that side of him.
So how could you not fall deeper for him when he keeps his hands so firmly on your hips as pulls your panties aside with his teeth and he sucks on your pussy?
He gives you head like he's done it to you before, but you're sure he's sucked on many vaginas to be so comfortable between your thighs. "Fuck, Enjin!" you moan, your head lulling up against the wall as the cool metal to his tongue piercing melts against your hot, wet pussy.
His lips and tongue quickly become well acquainted with your soaked, puffy, pretty little pussy, licking, sucking, and lapping up your juices. You press yourself into him further, forcing him deeper into you. “That's it!” you keen, running your fingers through his blonde locks. “How are you so good at this shit?"
Enjin chuckles against your clit, the vibrations traveling through your core. "Just me, I guess," he mumbles before his fat tongue licks a long stripe along your slit. You can't keep quiet, having to cover your mouth to avoid alerting someone and having them see you pinned against the wall with your pussy in your best friend's mouth.
Enjin gives the impression that he wants to make up for all the wasted time, so he continues to lap at your sweet, pretty little cunt and moan as he does it, drunk off of the taste of you. You are drunk too–off his fat, pierced tongue; his fingers; his soft lips. "Sh-Shit, Jin, faster!" you beg through trembling lips. "Please! I need it faster!"
He pauses, staring up at through feral, golden eyes. "Faster, mama?" he pants. "I can do that. Anythin' to make you scream f'me."
His fingers trail over your puffy lips, making you whine. "Want some fingers too?" he asks. "Just two...unless you want more." You slowly nod, unsure of if you can speak, but he takes the message.
You gasp as he sheathes two long fingers inside of you, crooking them in a 'come hither' motion as he sucks on your clit. “You’re so good to me, baby girl,” he murmurs against your clit. “My girl taste so, so good."
You whimper at his words, gripping his hair while he tongue-fucks you against the wall, your slick dripping down your inner thighs and on his tongue. “O-Oh, fuck!” you loudly gasp, forgetting to cover your mouth. “Shit, Jin, yes!” You immediately pause, listening for any voices.
But you don't get to feel guilty for it for too long because Enjin's tongue and fingers are wiping all thoughts from your brain except for white hot pleasure. You have to cover your mouth again as you moan and whine into your palm, grinding and fucking that wet, gushing pussy onto his digits in time with him curling them up against that spot.
“I’m gonna cum, Jin,” you whined through your fingers. He blinks those eyes up at you, the eye contact making you crazy, and pulls his lips away while still finger fucking you stupid. “Beg,” he demands. “Beg for me to make you cum. Lemme hear it, mamas."
A hiccup of protest explodes out of you, fat tears pricking your eyes and threatening to ruin your mascara. Fuck your pride. Fuck the friendship. You need to cum. “Please!” you sob. “Please, Enjin, baby, I need you to make this pussy cum!”
That is more than enough for him. Like a wild animal, Enjin dives back into your pussy and laps at your clit while he strokes your insides with his fingers, drawing you closer and closer to your intense nut until it crashes down like a house of cards.
With a loud, drawn-out moan, you cream all over his mouth. He takes it all, his moans of pleasure mingling with your muffled ones as he laps hungrily at your pussy, slurping up your juices while his fingers slows its strokes inside of you.
Your body tenses and shakes as your orgasm runs through you, making your fingers clench his hair and your toes curl in your wedges. Once you come down from your high, Enjin pulls away and gently takes his fingers out of you, sucking you off of them.
He stands and presses his fingers to your glossy lips. “Taste yourself." You open your quivering mouth and obey, sucking yourself off of his fingers as you stare into his eyes. He groans, biting his lip at the sight. “Fuck, your mouth is so tight,” he pants.
You can't resist cupping his bulge between you, earning another hot, husky groan from him. "Let me please you too," you purr. "Let me taste you, Jin." How could any man ever resist such a naughty request?
And out in the open, where anyone could see you, Enjin allows you to get on your knees and take his big, veiny, thick, beautiful cock in your mouth. You are dickmatized from it as soon as it springs to life out of his briefs, slapping against his toned stomach and happy trail. You have never seen such a gorgeous dick in your life, and you aren't shocked that Enjin is carrying a third leg on him.
And he has a dick piercing. How sexier can this motherfucker get?!
Enjin watches you through slightly-red slits as you spit on his dick and stroke it, getting used to its thickness. "Shit," he exhales, filling you with pride. The sound of your hand pumping his wet cock fills the air, making your pussy gush between your naked thighs.
You stare into his eyes as you push him past your plump, sticky lips. He is much bigger than he appears, stretching out your mouth until your jaw aches. Your lips stretch around his length the more you take it, pushing past your throat. “Fuck,” he moans, his fingers lacing through your braids. “I knew you’d be good at this, baby. Such a big girl takin’ such a big dick.”
You moan around his cock, the vibrations traveling up his shaft, making him bite his bottom lip. Your plump lips slide up and down his veiny dick, stopping at his bulbous, pink, pierced tip before traveling back down to plunge his cock into your throat.
"Oh, f-fuck, baby!" he stammers, blushing at the lewd sight of you sucking the soul out of him. He has to place a hand on the wall to keep from tumbling over, bending his knees to begin slowly rocking his hips into your mouth.
Your nostrils fill with the scent of his cologne, body wash, and naturally spicy scent. You tast nothing but him, salty cum and warm skin mixing on your tongue. "S'good, Jin?" you wetly ask him, popping off of his cock. "You like my mouth?"
"Uh-huh," he pants, staring down at you in awe. "Give me more, mama. I'm beggin' you...and I don't fuckin' beg." But for you, he absolutely will.
Porn-worthy grunts and whines drip from his mouth as he continues to fuck your throat, taking his time. You begin to gag on his cock, stuffing your mouth full of him, doing your very best to not throw it all back up.
You thought he was deep before? Enjin shows you deep. "Let me fuck that pretty face," he grunts. "Wanna get that mouth fuckin’ pregnant. Can I do that, baby?”
He lifts your face up to look deep into his lustful, golden eyes. You find yourself nodding and then giving him a whimpering, “Y-Yes.”
"Tap me if it's too much." Then that big ol' dick is back in your mouth and plunging deeper down your throat. He groans as your throat flexes around his shaft as he uses your throat to get himself off, leaning his head back to give you a view of his thick neck.
You drink in his body, lifting his shirt up to expose his toned, tatted stomach, pecs, and pierced nipples. You feel so slutty being here, sucking him off in an alleyway, but you've never felt sexier in your life than being used for your crush's pleasure.
He stares down at you, lovingly staring at your stained mascara and makeup that has seen better days. “If only you could see how pretty you look right now, baby," he murmurs, his hand stroking your scalp. “You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good f’me, baby. Such a good girl."
That ignites a fire in you that alcohol could never do. You giggle, drunk off of him, and continue to eagerly take him, your soft lips sliding along his cock as your mouth slides up and down, giving him throat like you hope he's never experienced in his life. “Oh, my God,” he groans, his eyes rolling back into his skull. “Shhhhit, baby!”
In between sucks, you stroke him and cup his balls, massaging the big, cum-filled beauties. You watch him intently, loving how the whites of his eyes looked. “You taste so good, Jin,” you purr through lips wet with his pre-cum and your spit.
It all slides down his dick and coats his balls as you continue to give him that gwak-gwak 3000, putting in work like you never had killing trash monsters. “H-Ha, shit! Oh, fuck, hgn, baby, hold on!” he whines, nearly falling from intensity of your blowjob. “M’gonna cum!”
You eagerly suck him more, swallowing him down, needing him to shoot a fat load in your throat. “No, no, hold up!” he gasps. “I-I—oh, fuck, I need to fuck you before I nut!"
You immediately stop, staring up at him in awe. "Out here?" you pant. He nods, breathing heavily, cock throbbing in your hand. "If you cool with it. I'll fuck you wherever you want me to."
You decide right then that there will be plenty more times for him to fuck you in a soft bed...hopefully. After tonight, you hope more moments with him like this will occur, but right now, all you want is him inside you. You need to feel what he feels like.
"Do it." You stand on wobbly legs, letting him help you up. "I want you to fuck me, Jin," you pant, sloppily kissing him. "Make me cum for you." He blinks at you, surprised by your eagerness. "But I don't have a—"
"S'okay," you slur, cutting him off with your lips, sticky and wet against his. "Just pull out before you cum. You can do it on my ass." He ain’t need anymore persuasion than that. Quickly, he spits a load on his dick and rubs it in, covering it in his saliva before he pins you against the wall with those strong arms of his.
Plap-plap. His fat dick slaps against your pussy as you hike your leg up on his waist, hiking your dress up over your hips to expose yourself to him. There you are: glistening, brown, and wet. "Try not to be too loud," he whispers. You can't even nod before he's pushing the tip in, making you gasp.
You grab hold of him, trembling as he pushes himself in inch after inch, filling you up with his fat cock. "F-Fuck me," he softly stammers. He keeps quiet, biting back a loud moan as you squeeze around him.
You're a little less discreet, barely even trying to hold in your moans. “Oh, fuck!” you gasp, your voice bouncing off of the walls. Your voice causes his cock to throb inside of you, making you groan at the feeling of him trapped between your wet, velvety walls.
After some adjustments, he begins to slowly rock his hips, rubbing his pelvis against your throbbing clit, making pleasure explode like bombs throughout your body. Enjin fucks like a damn pro, his slow strokes knocking the air out of your lungs, leaving you gasping for air.
"S'good, mamas?" he slurs, drunk off of your pussy and how soft you feel against him. One hand grips your thigh while the other has a handful of your ass, smacking it between thrusts. "Y-Yes!" you loudly stammer, digging your nails into his shoulders. "Fuck yes, Jin! Fuck me just like that, Daddy!"
You don't realize how loud you are until Enjin covers your mouth.
“As much as I love hearin' you scream, you gotta keep quiet,” he chuckles. "You’re gonna get us caught.” You nod, vision growing hazy as your pussy squelches around his dick. “S-Sorry,” you whimper when he moves his hand away. “You just feel so good!”
Enjin groans in agreement, adjusting so he's nestled farther inside of you. “Fuck, you too. You’re so fuckin’ tight and wet and…oh, shit!”
The way you squeeze around him, tighter than a vice, and your plush ass in his palm makes him fuck you harder. Faster. Snapping his hips forward again and again. "S'okay I fuck you like this?" he pants. "I'll slow down if you want t–"
“Fuck me hard, Daddy,” you beg, cupping his handsome face in your hands, staring up at through long lashes and pleading, brown eyes. “Please! I-I’ll be quiet, I promise! Just give it to m—“
Enjin doesn't give you time to finish your sentence because he's already pounding into your tight, wet heat without abandon as you grip onto him for dear life. “Like this?” he grunts. “My baby needs it like this?” He fucks you at an angle that makes you nuzzle his neck to hide your moans, every thrust and rub of your clit against his stomach making you drown in euphoria.
But what gives you ultimate bliss is not just his immaculate stroke game–it's what he just said to you. Calling you his baby. And you feel that that is what you are to him now: his baby. His girl. His pretty girlfriend to please and squeeze and fuck and love on as long as you want him to.
And you want it forever. As long as time allows you.
“Uh-huh!” you lewdly hum behind your hand, covering your mouth to muffle your moans as Enjin pounds you against the wall, taking you further and further towards your end.
“You’re so tight for me, cutie pie,” he moans, continuing to give you that cock deep and fast. “So wet too. You needed this too, didn’t you?” He takes you by the throat and squeezes, making your mouth fall slack behind your hand. “Yes!” you squeal, your eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. “Faster, Jin! Fuck this pussy faster!"
Your begging must ignite something in Ejin because his thrusts become harder and rougher, his body pressed flush against yours.
He grips you up with one arm, fucking you so roughly that your knee begins to buckle. Realizing you can't stand on one leg anymore, he hikes up the other until you're bouncing off of his cock, dangling in his arms like a koala bear.
"O-Oh, f-f-u-u-!" You can't finish your sentence; words do not compute anymore. Your moans mingle with the lewd, squelching sounds of his fat cock pistoning in and out of your pussy. Plap-plap-plap; a rhythm that makes you gush even more.
His own hushed sounds of pleasure mingle with yours, mixing with the sound of his cock lewdly swirling in your squelching, wet pussy that clamps down hard on him, trapping him in you.
"And don't think this is just a quick fuck," he pants in your ear. "After tonight, you're mine and I'm takin' you on a proper date." Your hole sucks him in deep as if your pussy is agreeing to this too. You want nothing more than to be his.
“That sound good, hm?” he teasingly asks, continue to hold your neck as he pistons into you. “You like that, baby?” You moan in response, absolutely gone from the pleasure. “F-Fuck, Enjin!” you babble. "I'm g-gonna cum soon!"
Enjin kisses you, your mouth beckoning him forward. He moans hotly into your mouth as his cock thickens inside of you. He's close too. "Cum for me," he whines into your mouth through hot pants. "Give it all to me, mama. I'll take it all—just fuckin' cum for me!"
The more he fucks you, the closer you get, the more your pussy slams onto him and the more your delicious titties jiggle and bounced for him in your sundress.
Finally, with a few more mind-blowing thrusts, you tip over the edge, and Enjin quickly covers your mouth as you let out a wail of release.
It doesn't take long for you to cum all over his cock, your pussy squeezing him tight enough where he can hardly move. Your body stiffens as you cream, drenching his dick in your honey, making it ooze and drip down his balls. Enjin's hips stutter as he continues to fuck you through your nut, his pants and groans growing more intense.
"I'mma cum soon, babe," he warns you. "Y-You've gotta get down unless you want me to get you pregnant."
Your slutty side tells you that it's not such a bad idea, but you don't listen. Instead, you slide off of his waist and turn around, allowing him to hike your dress up to expose your plump ass to him. He smacks it around a bit, his big palm clapping down hard on the flesh so it recoils.
You hear him fuck his fist, the wet sounds making your pussy ooze. "H-Ha, sh-shit, baby!" he grunts. "I'mma...I'm gonna fuckin' cum!" And with a hushed groan, his cum spurts all over your ass, drenching you in it. You feel it drip off of the juicy globes, sliding down to stain your thighs.
"C'mere," he raspily orders, pulling you against him. His lips finds yours again, his moans and heavy pants mixing with yours as your tongues swirled with one another, tasting each other.
Finally, when the high of your nut and the hot sex ebbs, you both sigh, his hands cupping your tits and your arm laced around his neck.
You giggle into the kiss, causing him to laugh with you. “Fuck,” he sighs against your mouth. “That was so good.” You press yourself back into him, lacing your fingers in his soft, blonde locks. “Mm,” you hum in agreement, still quite unable to verbalize anything.
He holds you close, gently massaging your tits like they're stress balls for him. “You’re fuckin’ perfect," he whispers in your ear. "You don't understand, babe. That meant somethin' to me." He pecks your cheek, making your stomach flutter. You still can't believe this is actually happening.
Enjin, your closet friend and the object of your secret affections, kissing you. Holding you close. Fucking you deep.
After he cleans himself up and shoves his dick back in his pants, he helps readjust your panties and your dress. Like he didn't just fuck you out in an alleyway for the entire town to see.
You turn around to face him, seeing a loving smile on his face, and properly kiss him, standing up on your tip toes to reach him. He wraps his arms around your waist, practically lifting you up off of the ground. You squeal, laughing when he pecks kisses all over your face.
"Let's get outta here before someone sees us," he whispers, his lips toying with your earlobe. "I think a hot shower, a cuddle, and maybe a round two is in order."
"Or multiple rounds," you whisper back, still aching with need for him. A deep rumble of agreement escapes him, making your core clench and that heartbeat appear right back between your thighs like you didn't just cum your brains out twice in a row.
"Sounds like a plan to me, mama," he murmurs before he readjusts his arms and carries you bridal style in them, your face pressed against his chest. "Let's go home."
"What about the party?" you ask, soft laughter on your tongue as the tall, hot blonde begins to carry you to the truck.
"Fuck the party. I'm more interested gettin' you naked again."
