#tinge frisk
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Hungry.
(TW this deals with children going hungry and starvation, slight mention of death, and self blaming! If that triggers you please leavee!!))
Frisk didn't know what feeling satisfied was like.
they've never sat down, ate a full meal and went, "I'm not hungry anymore, I've fueled my body, I'm satisfied." No.
They didn't understand why so many people were like, 'three meals a day!' Because, they had always survived on one. Or less...
Frisk knows that they're poor, they live in a human village where the government doesn't provide to nearly as much as the others, so Frisk knows that they gotta conserve food
But still, didn't make it any less sucky.
They went to bed hungry, as long as they remember. They woke up hungry, as long as they remembered.
Their parents had dinner before bed, had breakfast when they woke up, but Frisk wasn't allowed to, because food was scarce and they were the ones that needed it more. Frisk was a waste of supplies.
So Frisk went hungry.
Then, the rebellion started. Humans unhappy with being lower class compared to monsters, tired of the monster government controlling theor ability to seek food and shelter.
The monsters, obviously, weren't happy about this. So to punish the humans, they started restricting how much they got.
Fridk went from eating once a day, to once every two days, and, that quickly jumped to three. Yeah, their parents definitely had enough food for everyone to eat daily, but in their words, it'd be a waste on a kid who doesn't even do anything...
So Frisk went hungry.
Many people starved in their village, some even died. But Frisk was strong, they were brave, they were determined to survive.
And they did...
Of course, it didn't matter much anyways, since on their 10th birthday, they ended up running away.
But hey, now they're not wasting their parents food or space anymore.
#donetale#frisk undertale#undertale au#undertale#writing#fanfic#My AU#Tw starving#tw disordered eating#tw dis0rdered e@ting
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yeah! they made a limited edition, super duper THC'd up, very-much-meant-to-be-shared Edible edition of the Nerds Rope confection. until people began eating the whole thing and getting Superhigh
Waoh. Im gonna do yaht. Ahhahaha. Oh god charas yelling at ne.
#frisk answers#frisk does weed#(FRISJ YOUR NOT. GET TING SUPERHIGH. FRJSK. NO)#cw drugs#cw drug mention
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How To Fight | MMA Fighter!Toji x Physical Therapist!Reader
You love your job as a Physical Therapist, and would rather avoid any complications. Unfortunately MMA Fighter Toji Fushiguro has taken a liking to you. Despite your better judgement, you've taken a liking to him too.
✧ wc: 6.3k
✧ notes: A song fic taking place in the MMA AU. The song lyrics referenced are from How To Fight by Eartheater
✧ warnings: eventual angst, mma!au, no curse au, widowed Toji, divorced Toji, single dad Toji, fem bodied reader, pronouns used (she/her), pet names (sweetheart), flirting, unwanted advances, pussy referred to as 'she', physical therapist reader, recurring injury, injury recovery, vaginal sex, cumshot
i've tasted metals of my own blood, and learned to like it
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”
It was against everything you stood for to be happy to see a client again, given your line of work, but Toji was different. Against your better judgement, he had somehow managed to work his way into your mind, burrowing past that steely wall of professionalism you kept up at all times with those in your care. You were determined to never let him know that, though.
“Well, Toji, I would prefer it if you didn’t keep getting yourself injured.”
He breezes right past that. “Just let me take you out, it’ll be a lot nicer than pushing me around and cracking my joints.”
It was a simplification bordering on misunderstanding your work, as if you were some chiropractor, but you know he’s only saying it to get you shoving him around with that tinge of annoyance he feeds right into your veins. You try not to give in, because you’re always trying not to give in to Toji, really. Then he’s resisting, just enough to make you really have to work to guide him in the stretch you want him to do, and he’s managed to get you right where he wants you yet again. You tug at his hips, guiding him into movements he should be familiar with by now.
“Just let me do my job.”
You had no intention of accepting his advances, whether they were in the form of invitations to dinner, sparkling bedroom eyes, or flirtatious comments that would have had you kicking anyone else right out of your office. Not Toji, though. With him, you just find yourself slowly allowing him to speak to you more and more familiarly.
The corner of his mouth lifts smugly just as he’s turning away, taking his gaze off of you directly to watch you in the mirror along the wall next to the mat you were standing on. He allows you to move him for a moment, only offering light resistance now, as if you could truly make him do anything he didn’t want to, then continues the twisting motion on his own. You watch his body carefully, avoiding eye contact because you already know those green eyes are fixed on your face, trying to coax you into giving him the smallest inch to turn into a mile.
“If you want your hands on me you don’t gotta use your job as an excuse.”
You ignore him outright, drowning out any potentially untoward thoughts with a strengthened focus on your work. As always, it works, and you note on your assessment forms that his hip mobility was normal. You knew it would be, that Toji knew how to throw his punches properly, but you’re always thorough with your checklist whether it was for the reasons Toji accused you of or not.
“Stand against the wall.”
He lets out a whistle, hands up as he does, “Gonna frisk me?”
“I’m gonna refer you to Yaga so you can get wrung out like a wet rag if you don’t do what I tell you.”
“Ooh, that doesn’t sound too bad, actually.”
“Toji.”
He chuckles as he settles into the position he already knows you want him in, doing lunges with the wall as a marker for how deep to press forward as you watch his ankle and knee movements.
“All good there.” You tap his back, nodding as you make your notes while he stands in wait.
“Okay, upper body.”
You know this is where he’ll need the work, as usual, and you’re quick to go through your checks with the right shoulder, moving onto his problem area. You already knew from his post-fight medical, but are happy to find, as you watch his movements as he lifts and rotates his arm, that it’s no more serious than the last time.
“Left shoulder…” you say aloud as you note it.
He looks annoyed, at himself rather than at you, “Always is.”
It makes you feel bad for him, in a way. He wasn’t really reckless in the ring. He knew his body too well and was too calculated with how he approached his fights. Unfortunately, it was simply a recurring injury, as shoulder issues often were. Something that was always going to pop back up sooner or later, but with the way Toji took so many fights even as he neared his forties it seemed to be “sooner” more and more often.
As you rotate his arm, feeling where he tenses and softening your movements, you share a little of your optimism with him - couched in realism, of course.
“Don’t look so sad. It’s similar to the last one, so it shouldn’t be too long before we have you out there in the ring living your best life.”
He laughs at that, sounding a little dryer than his usual flirty chuckle, “I’m not living my best life in there.”
You glance up at him while you continue your assessment, brows raising in muted interest before he continues.
“Put it this way, I like it because I like the money. I don’t love fighting.” He thinks on it a little more before adding, “I do love finishing fights, though.”
To you, there was little difference between those two things, but then you weren’t the one doing the fighting so you accept his feelings on the matter. “That’s fair. I think it’s kind of rare to really love your job.”
As you firmly grasp his bicep, lifting his arm outwards, he flexes for just a moment, grin returning to its usual wolfish state, “Bet you love your job though. Groping men all day.”
You release his arm, letting it fall for only a moment, but catching it as soon as he winces, “I’d love it a lot more if you let me do it without those kinds of comments.”
“Ehh,” he tilts his head, brows raising in disbelief at your continued assertions that you didn’t get any sort of satisfaction out of this (and you didn’t… until him). “I think you get something out of them.”
You ignore him again, returning to your desk to note your recommendations. “Four to six weeks of sessions, as usual.” You look up at him then, indirectly threatening him to behave, “Four will probably do though.”
It shouldn’t have been a threat, getting him back up to snuff as efficiently as possible, but it had become one by now with Toji. It was a joke, of course. Toji would feign being hurt by the thought of it, but was always happy to be able to accept his next fight as soon as possible.
But sometimes it didn’t feel like a joke. Sometimes you did want a little more time basking in his flirtations. Toji Fushiguro had unfortunately grown on you and it often left you feeling ashamed. His reputation precedes him. He’d even been married when he first came into your office, and here you were worrying about missing those butterflies in your stomach at his little reminders that he is completely fixated on you.
When you find yourself smiling a little too widely at him, or even thinking about him outside of your sessions, you have to remind yourself that there was nothing actually there. It was just what he was like with anyone that caught his eye, even if it was only ever you he was assigned to once you’d started working there.
The why of it all wasn’t a mystery in the beginning. He was a relentless flirt that, based on how cagey some of your coworkers were about hearing he would be in your care, had apparently enjoyed his time with many of them before you. You didn’t mess around about your job, though. You loved your work, and you loved the convenience of this position, so you’d decided that you absolutely would not be added to his list of conquests.
At first keeping that professional level of disinterest was easy. It had seemed so obvious that he’d move on and request another PT work with him after the first of his recurring injuries led to several sessions worth of you rejecting his advances. That wasn’t the case, though. Maybe that was exactly why he kept coming to you and only you. The challenge.
And it was a challenge, for the both of you. You were intent on giving him nothing, and he was intent at making that as hard as possible for you without even really trying. By the third time he’s booked in for several sessions with you for post-fight recovery, you find yourself actually letting your guard down around him, if only a little. You might have even missed him.
i've gone under the knife of love, dissected every vein and vessel
Another week, another therapy session, another attempt to keep your composure, even with how relentless Toji is.
“How long are you gonna keep making me ask before you let me take you to dinner?”
You shoot him a look. The answer should be never, followed by asserting quite bluntly that you don’t sleep with clients, since he wasn’t exactly being subtle. That’s what the answer used to be, at least. It’s not quite that direct now, though. “How long are you going to keep getting yourself injured and winding up here?”
He puts his hand to his heart, feigning pain, “Listen, if I didn’t have a bum shoulder I wouldn’t get to come and be your favourite client.”
“I wouldn’t say favourite.”
He lifts his head from your massage table, flashing you a winning smile and the closest to puppy dog eyes a man like Toji could muster. “Cutest?”
“I wouldn’t say that either.”
He closes his eyes, relaxing onto your table as you move and massage his shoulder firmly, “Whatever you say, sweetheart…”
Toji really did enjoy testing you. Especially with his favourite little pet name for you. Sweetheart. ’Even though you’re not too sweet to me’ he’d said with a little pout, entirely undercut by his hungry eyes. You used to shoot him looks that could have killed a man on the spot in some other universe. Now you don’t look at him at all when he says it, it feels too risky. It feels like something in your eyes will give you away.
You throw out another of the many threats Toji knows are baseless by now, said as many times and with as little conviction as most of your defences against him. “You’re lucky I don’t kick you out.”
He peeks at you through barely opened eyes, as you stretch his arm outward, “That's what I’m saying, you’ve got a soft spot for me.”
That’s your final signal to put your proverbial work hat on a little more snugly as you push down, and he taps his fingers against you, indicating his limit for this particular stretch. He understands you’re truly done with the conversation as you pat his side and step back.
“Alright, time for strengthening exercises.”
This was the part he always got bored with. You weren’t touching him now, not after the first time to demonstrate what you wanted from him. You weren’t naive enough to believe him when he kept feigning a need for more hands-on guidance as he goes through the recommended motions. A man doesn’t get to the point of looking like Toji without knowing how to lift weights - especially not the small ones you had him on just to slowly get his strength back in his shoulder.
Even then, lying on the floor, raising a little 5 pound weight with his healing arm while you stand above him watching closely, he’s still ready to run his mouth.
“I like this.”
“It feels alright?”
“The weight is fine, but I like having you standing over me like that.”
You give him nothing, pursing your lips as you put the tip of your shoes between his arm and the ground, “Keep your arm up, don’t bring it down too far.”
Ignoring his comments is the best you can do sometimes. Even if it gets harder with every session as you start to actually look forward to it deep down. Even if it becomes your only defence until you’re spending a good chunk of these sessions in a near haze, trying to force as much emotional distance as possible once his flirting starts up.
His comments were uncalled for, and so was the way it made you feel. You were far from the type to be desperate for the attention of a man like him, and the way your body responded to him only pissed you off the more it excited you. All you can do, or all you’re willing to do, is shut it down, and remember that you have a job to do.
—
After three more sessions of this you’ve convinced yourself that you’re more than ready to discharge him and hopefully enjoy a peaceful several months without the risk of seeing his face again. The fact that it never used to take convincing to enjoy having the walking talking complication out of your life is something you aren’t willing to address.
“You’re gonna miss me, aren’t you?”
“Don’t start, Toji.”
You know you can’t really tell him what to do, unfortunately.
“You don’t have to if you-“
“That’s right, I don’t have to miss you, and I won’t. Hopefully you don’t go getting yourself injured again so you can come and bother me more.”
Your tone has him sucking in air through his teeth and grimacing a little.
“I don’t exactly like getting injured.” He looks away as he speaks and it’s strange not having his eyes on you like you were some sort of prey to be carefully observed. “I couldn’t even help my son move into his dorm. Cage fighter dad that can’t even lift a fucking box. It pisses me off.”
He shrugs, eyes back on you, lit up anew, “But at least I get to see your pretty face, huh?”
As much as you don’t enjoy Toji’s comments, you like these little glimpses of something else even less. Because he does talk to you. About his day, about little things that pop in his head when he’s bored of flirting for seconds at a time. And it makes it much harder not to get a little too attached when he isn’t just being a simple womaniser.
It sometimes makes you feel like Toji thinks you’re some sort of therapist - when he’s not relentlessly trying to get you into his bed. And you know that’s what all of his flirting is, of course.
Because his reputation precedes him. Yes, he’ll take someone out. Yes, they’ll have a good time. Yes, they’ll fuck. Except in your case you aren’t a part time receptionist or ring girl that might be able to avoid awkward situations with him during the nothing that comes after all of that. And you aren’t willing to mess up the good thing you have with your job, even though some of your coworkers seemed to be.
What wasn't mentioned to you as part of his reputation, was the little breadcrumbs of who he was beneath the charm and muscle. It’s known he was a prodigy in his sport. It’s known he retired young to be a family man. And it’s known he came back, 5 years later, newly widowed.
He doesn’t talk about his first wife much, because why would he? Any brief mentions of her are with an undying warmth and love that undercuts his reputation as a heartbreaker. She’s special. The mother of his child, his first love. The former is stated, the latter is obvious. Nothing short of that would melt that hardened mask of indifference.
His second wife, he doesn’t speak about at all. You only know of her because he mentions a step-daughter, and because when he’d flirted with you from the very first time he’d entered your care your eyes had locked onto the ring on his finger with contempt for how little it apparently meant. By the time you see him next, nearly half a year and another injury later, he isn’t wearing the ring anymore.
Something in you feels flattered when you ask Toji about how his son was finding college in front of a coworker who had been here much longer than you, and they’re shocked as they say they didn’t know he had kids. Then, you’re left even more annoyed at him for giving you more complications to maintaining a necessary level of professional distance in your job.
Small talk shouldn’t feel so heavy.
Helping people recover shouldn’t make you have to deal with these thoughts.
i know how to fight, how to fuck, how to die, how to resurrect my pride
When you give in, it’s in the worst way. He doesn’t even take you to dinner, you don’t give him a chance to. It’s his fourth time in your care, this time for an ankle injury. Something basic, something much more simple to deal with than his recurring problem. Something that will get him out of your hair in no time.
He isn’t simple to deal with though, telling you about the dogs his son adopted, how he never really got how people got so attached to animals growing up, but now he gets it. He’s got you comfortable, not even thinking about how your guard is down, nor about how you even smile at him as he shows you a picture of his son, buried under two masses of fluff and begrudgingly smiling at the camera.
“God, Toji, you really just have a little twin there, don’t you?”
He laughs, looking at the picture of his son, before setting his phone aside on the mat. “Nah, there’s a lot of his mom in there.”
You smile, patting his shoulder in a rare touch outside of professional reasons, “That’s nice.”
He lies back on the mat, out of your reach, “You’re nice, for once.”
You get back to work, wrapping your hands around his ankle and bending his foot slowly. “I’m nice to people who aren’t constantly trying to get into my pants.”
“Hey, who said I was trying to do that? I’m just trying to take you out.” He sits up and leans onto his elbows, “but if that’s the kind of thing you’re interested in…”
“I’m interested in doing my job. I don’t mind talking to you when you relax with the inappropriate comments.”
“I’ve gotta prove myself to you before you’ll let me take you out, got it.”
“Is that what I said, Toji?”
Toji shrugs, fully relaxing back onto his elbows, and you pull on his foot gently. “That’s what I heard.”
You shoot him a look that you hope can put fear into the heart of even him. Instead, it only seems to inspire other emotions as he forms his scarred lips into a pout that misses the mark of garnering pity for his plight as a man rejected yet again, though you’re certain Toji knows exactly what he’s doing when he makes faces like that. Even with his lips puckered and sticking out slightly, even with his brows fashioned into a worried frown, his eyes telegraph exactly what he’s thinking about.
It crumbles your resolve, leaving you looking away first as you let out a sigh you hope comes across as frustration instead of weakness. You readjust your position squatting down next to him on the mat, trying to get a feel for the flexibility of his ankle before you start guiding him through putting some of his weight onto it as he straightens the other leg and lifts his hips off the mat before settling back down.
He’s quiet then, for much longer than you were used to, and you take the silence as an opportunity to work in peace as you rotate his foot again. When you look back up at him it has your heart beating a little faster than it should be. His teeth press lightly at his lower lip, his eyelids are only half open, and his brow quirks as if just your look had the same effect as having said something dirty.
“What is it now?”
You expect him to make some comment about your hands on his body, how they were lingering even now. He makes you wait for it though, tilting his head from one side to the other as he looks you up and down, smiling like he has a secret he’s debating keeping.
Another sigh falls from your lips, filled with actual frustration this time, and when he sits up it feels like he’s towering over you in a way you simply could not overcome, despite being able to easily stand and remove yourself from the pull of his gaze. The way he peers at you, even more intense than usual, has the back of your neck tingling and you’re forced to swallow hard even with the fear that something as simple as that would give you away.
His gaze softens, dipping back into something cooler, as if he’s backing away from an animal signalling that an approach would not be treated kindly. He takes a deep breath, and you don’t even notice you’re following suit until you both exhale at the same time.
It’s as if he’s settling whatever that moment was with just a look, deciding not to make the final jump to cross that imaginary line, and it puts you at ease enough that his words are like a punch to the gut.
“You’re pretending you don’t like it, but your neck is doing that thing.”
“What? What are you talking about?” You’re blowing it, far too defensive even though you truly aren’t actually sure what he means.
“Here.” He brings a hand to your neck, tracing a finger down the length of it, stopping just above your collarbones. “You always tense riiiiight there.”
He pulls his hand back, settling it on his thigh, and you let out the breath you’d been holding from the moment his hands were coming towards you. It makes you realise you’d been so focused on controlling everything you did or said that you’d been clenching yourself like a fist every time his words, or actions, left you melting inside. It also makes you realise that was the first time he’d put his hands on you in a way entirely unrelated to your work since he shook your hand the day you’d met.
You’re horrified at having been found out. You’re even more horrified as you realise you hadn’t really been hiding anything anyway. It’s left you with no clue how to respond, and you suddenly feel so aware of your every movement, unable to decipher how to behave when your little act had been so, so obvious to him from the start.
“Look, if you really want me to stop, I’ll st-“ he pauses, looking up as he thinks, scrunching his nose and tilting his head as if he’s weighing options. “Well, I’ll try to stop. I can’t make any promises…”
He’s pausing again, thinking again, looking you up and down as he licks his lips, before he crosses his legs, pulling his ankle out of your grasp and resting his elbows on his thighs as he leans forward. It forces you to react, as if on instinct, and lean back off of your feet to seat yourself with knees raised and acting as a final barrier between the two of you. He lets you keep that distance you’d gained, but brings a hand to hover over your knee so closely that you’re not sure if he’s touched you yet or if it’s just the heat radiating off of him setting your nerves on fire.
You can’t even bring your eyes away from his to check, and realise that you wouldn’t exactly want to move further away whether his touch was real or imagined. His gaze has you locked in place just as much as your own head as you find yourself thoroughly buried in your own pit of uncertainty as everything moves too fast for your mind to catch up.
“You don’t want me to stop though, do you sweetheart?”
His eyes, the heat of him, his low words digging through that pit in your stomach to reach for your core, it all has you feeling too lightheaded to be able to think at all. You can barely even feel yourself shaking your head, body much more honest than you had been willing to be all this time.
“Thought so.”
He leans in, brushing his nose back and forth against yours, smiling with the cute gesture, then that grin spreads wider as you tilt your head, your eyes fluttering closed as you wait for him to just kiss you. He doesn’t, waiting long enough that you’re forced to open your eyes and confront the sight of that hungry face yet again, and this time his gaze has you outright clenching.
“Big girls don’t get what they want by acting all shy, do they?”
It’s too much, you feel humiliated, you feel sick, you feel like you’ll pass out if he keeps working you up without even putting his hands on you properly.
“Kiss me. If you wanna.”
You don’t know who you are, needing to be told what to do like this. You question who you are again, as you follow orders in a way you never would have before you’d been called out like this and press your lips to his, letting out a breath that’s shaky enough to have you revealing just how desperate you were. When you start to wonder who you are for the third time, for kissing a client, at work no less, you drown out that thought by parting your lips against his.
He responds with softly parted lips of his own, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you into him as he slots his mouth against yours. You wait for his tongue, flitting the tip of yours against his lower lip, and when it does not come you’re clinging to his shirt, bunching it at his shoulders. You’re forced to hold onto those broad shoulders properly when he lies back and his hands on your waist bring you with him to settle you on top of him - wordlessly reiterating that you would need to pull yourself together and set the pace here.
It’s your final push, as you straddle him with hands braced against his chest and slide your tongue into his mouth. Feeling the body you’d had your hands on far too many times, this time beneath you and with your ability to lie to yourself about the effect it has on you stripped away, has you salivating. You set all shame aside for this moment as you grind down against him, indulging in the feel of his stiffening cock beneath layers of thin fabric.
That tense feeling threatens to return, prickling at the back of your neck as he laughs into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and guiding your movements against him with strong hands on your hips. It’s gone again as he lifts his hips gently, using your weight against you as you only press harder onto him. You squeeze at his pecs, groaning into his mouth as you finally goad him into kissing you back with the same intensity you were now pouring into him, and it’s as delightfully invasive as you’d tried your hardest not to imagine it would be time and time again. It sends a tremble through your thighs, the wetness pooling in your panties all too obvious to you as all of your hidden desperation pulses through you straight from your pussy.
You forget yourself while kissing him like this, unaware of how long you’ve been on top of him, unaware of how you were moaning outright with just the friction between you, unaware of anything but feeling and tasting and touching as much of Toji as you could.
He’s aware though, aware of everything just as he always has been. How your thighs squeeze at his hips, the way your moans start sounding more like breathy little whines, how your tongue stops moving for seconds at a time against his. And it’s all he needs to keep this momentum going so quickly that everything but the two of you is an unintelligible blur.
“You gonna cum just like this?”
You don’t really want to answer it, and the look you give him as you try to keep him kissing you rather than talking has him chuckling, light and breathy against your skin.
“Sweetheart… if you’d just let me take you out from the beginning you wouldn’t be so pent up and begging for it…”
It takes more concentration than you have available to you right now to steady your voice. “I’m not begging.”
He takes in your face, biting at his lower lip as he slides two fingers into your mouth. He wiggles them around, sliding over your tongue, practically fucking your mouth with those thick fingers, knuckles catching at your tightened lips. “You aren’t…”
His fingers leave your mouth just as you were starting to actually enjoy the intrusion, and he slips his hands into your leggings, past your panties, stopping you from pressing down against his clothed cock like you had been as he circles your entrance slowly, “but she is.”
Then, his hand is gone, resecured on your hips, steadying your movements. “But you’re the boss here, not her. So if you don’t want it…”
“Come on, Toji.” You’re chastising him, even if you’re in no position to do so with your thighs tensing and your hips begging to keep moving against him.
He clicks his tongue against his teeth, “Like I said, you’re the boss. So I don’t move without orders.”
And he doesn’t. He doesn’t keep kissing you, even when you press your lips against his again, sighing out your frustration against his soft smile. He doesn’t release your hips to let you keep stoking your fire on his body. He doesn’t do anything but look up at you with a hungry glint in his eye, enjoying every moment it takes you to push your pride aside to ask him for exactly what you’ve wanted longer than you can admit to yourself.
“I want to cum.”
“Just you? Not a very good boss, huh…”
You groan, frustration with him reaching a fever pitch, “I want you to fuck me.”
He closes his eyes, smiling wide and letting your words wash over him. It’s music to his ears, and when he looks back up at you his pupils are blown and you know he’s done holding back. “All you had to do was ask, sweetheart.”
His arm is around your waist then, keeping you steady as rolls you over, settling himself between your thighs and you’re now looking up at him. You feel the tensing of his body, and come back to yourself enough to give him a concerned look.
He catches it, pressing a hand to your cheek and rubbing his thumb over your lips in an attempt to soothe those worries.
“Shh, don’t worry, I’ll be careful.” He shifts so he’s not putting weight onto his ankle, pulling at your shoes until they’re sliding off and hitting the ground. You lift your hips as you work your own leggings and underwear down, straightening your legs for him to remove them for you before he’s spreading you wide with hands on your inner thighs. He slides a hand towards your pussy, rubbing his thumb through your wetness and sucking air through his teeth at the way it slips around with ease.
“You really were gonna cum like that, weren’t you?”
You run your hands over your face, unwilling to endure any more teasing, “Just fuck me, Toji.”
He whistles, releasing your thighs and tugging the waistband of his shorts down just enough to release his cock, and you look up to his face, refusing to give him a reaction until he’s sliding inside you just as you’ve asked. He braces himself on one of his elbows, leaning over you and letting his cock hang heavily against your stomach. His hair tickles at your face as he kisses you again before requesting a final affirmation before following the orders you’d given.
“Want me to go slow?”
He really does wear your patience thin, enough that you answer without thinking, “No.”
“Okay…” he sounds doubtful, but continues on as he grips himself at the base and rubs the head of his cock through your wetness.
You squeeze at his sides, prompting him to look at you instead of at his own cock below. “Do not cum inside me.”
It’s stern enough to make Toji laugh, your voice sounding much more like your usual self for just a moment. “Don’t worry, I don’t want any more responsibilities.”
You don’t know if you trust Toji, but right now you don’t exactly trust yourself either. Especially not when having this man you’d spent ages closing yourself off to split you open on his cock in one merciless push has you wincing and taking it like it was exactly what you deserved for being so weak to him.
Toji pauses, balls deep, eyes clouded as he looks down at you. “I asked if you wanted me to go slow.”
It’s said with a hint of pity and a look that says ’you did this to yourself’, though he does stay still, kissing you again and removing your need to try and collect your thoughts enough to reassert that you knew your body, not him.
He doesn’t hold back for long though, and once you’re sighing into his mouth again, your tongue’s movements sloppy and unfocused, he starts moving his hips slowly. He starts with shallow thrusts, hips barely leaving yours. Then, as your body relaxes and your pussy accommodates him with a telltale squelch, he pulls out further, fucking you harder. Once your thighs are gripping at his hips he sits up, gathering more momentum in his thrusts at the slight change of angle.
He presses his hand to your abdomen, thumb making out a steady pace on your clit as his hips make angled thrusts that have his cock working at you with purpose. The moan it draws from you is punctuated with your eyes rolling, trying desperately to refocus on the face of the man above you. He bites at his lip, nodding and groaning at the feel of you tightening as he finds the movements that have your hands trying to grip at something below, but only meeting the dull squeak of your fingertips sliding against the mat. He leans back, reaching up to grab at the back of the collar of his shirt and tug it over his head, tossing it aside. He grasps both of your wrists firmly, pulling your hands up to rest against his stomach as he looks down at you with a challenge in his eyes.
“C’mon, touch me.” He smiles, wide and wicked, “Like you’ve always wanted to.”
You do just that, running your hands over his abs, grazing your thumb over his belly button, tracing your fingers along the prominent vein on his abdomen that leads down below to where the two of you are connected. Then, your hands travel back upwards, gripping at his pecs. His hand returns to press at you, thumb back to playing with your swollen clit, and having that touch back so suddenly has you squeezing Toji’s pecs hard, drawing a moan from him.
“There you go.” It adds even more enthusiasm to his thrusts, speed picking up as he leans over you, propping himself up on one hand as he digs deep to have you squeezing him again.
This time your touch is intentional as you squeeze at the flesh, a slight give present before you reach hardened muscle, and when you graze your nails over his nipples he’s shivering above you, bucking into you harder. The way he rubs at your clit is almost mechanical in its precise speed and pacing, a steady climb punctuated by those thrusts that stroke your insides in a way that makes your body tingle and your toes curl.
“That easy, huh?”
The audacity helps you lock eyes on him, if only for a moment, and while his smug smile builds a small fury at the back of your mind, your receive vindication in the flutter of his lashes and slight twitch of his upper lip as he tries to ignore the call of his tightening balls. It gives you what you need to dig deep, rocking your hips up into his thrusts, unearthing the orgasm just below the surface for the both of you.
You find yours first, putting your trust in Toji as you let go and bounce into him as it rips through you white hot and powerful enough to have you curling in on yourself, head buried against Toji’s chest and legs clamping him until his hips are pressed to yours. He pushes past even the strength of your legs and pulsing pussy, thrusting until you release him, lying back, and your head has barely hit the mat below before he’s pulling out.
“Fuck…” it’s hissed out as he sits up and jerks at his cock roughly, head falling back while his hips buck up and into his fist. His cum spatters down, first landing on your shirt until you tug it up, hopeless as the task was with your clothes already ruined, and take the rest of it onto your bare stomach.
He’s left panting, you’re left panting. He looks like he’s won at something, you feel like you’ve lost.
#reminder minors and ageless blogs get blocked#my writing#mma!au#mma!toji#mma fighter!toji#toji x reader#toji x y/n#toji x you#toji fushiguro x y/n#toji fushiguro x you#toji fushiguro x reader#x reader#self insert
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and they were roommates // liam lawson
summary: when holly leaves for a week long vacation and says shes giving her brother her room, y/n is less than thrilled. until she realizes that holly's brother is super hot.
pairing: liam lawson x female reader ( best friends brother trope, roommate trope )
warnings: pure smut. this is filth. enjoy yourselves my little f2 hoes <3
author's note: im so going to hell for this, if i wasn't on my way there already. i just needed to get it out of my drafts.
when holly lawson told her that instead of having the apartment to herself for two weeks, that her brother liam would be moving in to 'housesit', y/n y/l/n was very very upset.
i mean, the whole reason she had answered holly's ad in the new zealand classified's during her first week at uni was because she'd wanted a female roommate and the single-sex dorms at her school had already filled up.
not that she was neccesarily opposed to sharing an apartment with a man, but it was the fact that this situation would place her in the home of a man she didn't know.
"you'll be fine!" holly had insisted. "liam is a sweetheart, and i won't be gone for very long."
"you're leaving me with some strange man who could be a serial axe murderer for all i know."
she knew that liam lawson wasn't an axe murderer. but he was a high performance athlete, and that had to count for something. he probably had girls throwing themselves at his feet at every waking moment. every time he left his house, most likely.
so when liam moved in, her expectations were low. lower, actually. and she had good reason for them to be that way.
yes, he was a fairly tidy roommate. they never argued, he always pulled his weight around the house.
but every. goddamn. night.
every night she heard him and his woman of the day, going at it through the walls. she'd be lying if she said that listening to his husky bedroom voice and his breathy moans through the wall didn't turn her on even in the slightest.
but he was holly's brother, the f2 hotshot.
as hot as he might be, he was so far off limits that she couldn't even see where the limit was anymore.
it all came to a head one night when she was sitting in her bedroom, the headboard pressed up against the wall that she shared with liam's room. she had a glass of prosseco in one hand, a paperback lauren layne novel in the other as she sat nestled underneath the covers, naked aside from the silk robe covering her slender frame.
with the sweet alcohol coursing through her veins, and the salacious words inked on the page in front of her, she found her hand drifting downwards, fingertips warm against her skin as she began to touch herself, soft pants leaving her lips, head tilted back.
she was so lost in her own pleasure that she didn't hear the knock on her door, only snapped to attention at the sound of liam's shout.
"y/n! i'm running to sainsbury's, do you need anything."
she was startled from the shout, withdrawing her ahnd and dropping the pocket-sized paperback to the floor, she scrambled to pull her robe back over her body, tripping on the cotton sheets as she tried to cross the room.
and when liam pushed the door open, concerned for her safety after hearing the thumps from his side of the door, y/n was mortified to learn that she had forgotten to lock the door.
"y/n?" liam was confused as he crossed to where she was. "what happened?"
"nothing, i'm fine." she sighed, face still pink and body still buzzing as she reached for her book. "my foot got caught in the sheets."
"let me help." liam insisted, beating her to the book, his eyes widening when he saw the title. but with a book called 'frisk me', you get that reaction a lot. and when he took in the rest of the features in the room- the glass of prosecco, the silk robe, the pink tinge of her skin-, he put two and two together. "were you touching yourself to a smutty book?" he grinned. "jesus christ. if you were horny, all you needed to do was ask me to help you out."
her breath caught in her throat as liam gingerly reached forwards, tracing his thumbs over her hardened nipples as she bit her lip to stop from moaning.
"if this is crossing a line, just tell me to stop, y/n." liam said slowly, almost gently as his warm hands continued to set her body on fire.
"liam," she breathed out. "kiss me."
and that's exactly what happened next, a kiss that was as hungry and needy as the parties involved as she dropped her robe to the carpet, liam tugging his own t-shirt over his head.
"on the bed, all fours. let me treat you right, fuck your needy body the way it deserves, babygirl."
and that's how she found herself with her ass in the air, her face pressed against the cotton pillowcase (screen printed with tiny red hearts, no less), with her roommates hot-as-hell brother thrusting his impressive cock in and out of her core, leaving her wanting more and moaning in pleasure.
liam had cut right to the chase: her fingers had already done all of the heavy lifting for him, courtesy of the lauren layne novel lying forgotten on her carpet.
"fuck, you're so wet." liam breathed. "i bet you've been thinking about this ever since i moved in, huh? do you ever touch yourself when you hear me fucking other girls? do you wish it was you?"
"don't flatter yourself, lawson." she managed to breathe out in between moans. "i'm not that desperate."
liam chuckled. "you're doing so well for me, babygirl." the kiwi groaned, gripping her hips harder and pulling y/n back onto his cock. "god, you really are so needy. don't worry, i'm here now."
"oh, god!" she whined underneath him, clutching at the sheets in pleasure. "liam, please! harder, harder!"
the driver was all too happy to oblige, the room filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the wet sound of liam's thrusts, and y/n's needy, desperate whines as she chased her release.
"liam, oh my god, i-i'm gonna, oh god!"
"come on this cock, babygirl. yeah, that's right princess, come for me like a good fucking girl."
as her high crashed over her, she could have sworn she felt her entire body go limp as the adrenaline subsided, all of her energy leaving her as the arms that held her up buckled underneath her. she rolled over, pulling the blankets around her body as she looked up at liam who was still kneeling over her, trying to get his own breath back.
"it's a shame you're only staying until holly gets back. i feel like we've wasted your entire stay by not doing this sooner."
"holly didn't tell you?" liam's voice was husky as he leaned down to kiss her. "her flight got pushed back by a few days."
he grinned at the girl underneath him.
"we have all the time in the world"
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14/DEC/20XX
the morning rain turning yesterday's snow into slush makes me wonder when the snow'll 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 start.
heavier, i mean.
the heavy-duty kind you can really make stuff with.
certainly feels cold enough to be that heavy kind of snow already.
might be part of why i slept so long today.
lingering soreness from yesterday's events is definitely not helping me get out of bed either.
...slept through all eight of my alarms.
don't know when i went from being a somewhat light sleeper to a heavy one, but i'm sure you have a guess about when.
papyrus seems a little less than thrilled about me getting up so late, but he has to have heard the eight alarms.
can't deny that i at least 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 to schedule myself.
don't think tori minds if i show up a little later than planned anyway.
probably expected it, even.
——
tori herself admitted that her demonstration was a bit of a cop-out.
"After all, there is not much similarity between our magic abilities."
"can't cook with bone magic."
"Right. You do not need me to demonstrate abilities that you cannot recreate."
"So we-"
"wouldn't turn down the chance."
"To watch me use fire magic?"
"yeah. why not?"
"it'd be a hot w-"
"uh."
i'm entirely certain she could see the regret seep its way onto my face immediately.
"that is."
"a way worse joke that i meant for it to be."
not sure whether she was laughing at the joke or me.
just glad she didn't get creeped out by that. i really oughta watch my mouth better.
"what'd you have in mind today, if the demonstration's a bust?"
"Well..."
she looked at me with a tinge of pity.
"You had quite the day yesterday, did you not?"
"Let us do something you would like."
"...alright."
"won't argue with a chance to do nothing."
not paying too much attention to what title i grabbed, i pulled a book from her bookcase.
she picked one with a bookmark dangling out of it; about snails.
tori motioned me over to the couch, with a patting motion to the seat beside her.
i glanced down the hall where the bedrooms are.
couldn't hear any bickering between frisk and flowey, and i know tori wouldn't let them go out in the rain all day.
must mean they're at asgore's for now.
not that it matters who's in the house right now, but i know flowey'd screech at me for being within a foot of the old lady.
——
within thirty minutes of sitting next to each other, it has somehow transitioned into her lying on the couch with me nestled on top.
feel a bit like an housecat or something, but can't complain about what's happening.
this 𝘪𝘴 really comfortable.
i'm happy with it.
even if i'm not quite sure how we got here, or if this is slipping outside the friendship realm.
i'm the only one thinkin' about it this hard, so screw it.
right now, i'll leave it be.
——
"there was an interesting book i was reading the other day."
"What was it about?"
"an overweight bird."
"An... overweight bird?"
"What was the book called?"
"two-kilo mockingbird."
rocking me about a little as she laughed, i took in how it sounds different with my head against her chest.
the buzz of her voice, low and quiet so as to not speak over the calm rain outside, brought extra comfort compared to usual.
i don't want to move at all.
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Doomsday Duo: The Beginning
Flowey pov:
So I was just burrowing around thinking this little plan of mine was soooooo smart.
Then, I realized my horrible mistake.
In a panic, I approached the only living person nearby - and it happened to be him.
that idiotic extremely lazy skeleton I absolutely hate.
I had to ask him for help, I had no other option.
"Um, hey...?"
He looked at me briefly and then closed his eyes again.
"Enough of this! So that's how we are going to play it now, huh? Wake up and face the reality, sleepy!"
Sans finally decided to stand and look me in the eyes, but his glare sent a cold shiver down my spine, and I felt a sense of deja vu.
"What is it that YOU of all people want from? what, you wanna fight AGAIN?" he said, in a cold tone that gave me more goosebumps than anger
I stared momentarily and then said to myself, 'Pull yourself together, Flowey. It's not that bad.' I took a deep breath before continuing, "Frisk is on their way to kill us all, and I need your help. We need to work together, like a tag team. Can you help me?"
Sans glared at me before bursting into laughter. I muttered to myself, "Pathetic."
He wiped a single teardrop from his eye, but the moment he laid eyes on my stern expression, his laughter subsided. "Oh, you're serious?" he said, a look of concern crossing his face. "I'm sorry, I didn't know." I silenced him with a shush and spoke with a firm tone, "Listen to me for once! Look me in the eyes and tell me how serious I am!" Sans met my gaze and held it for a moment, but then broke into another fit of laughter. "You're a flower, how am I supposed to take you seriously?" he managed to say, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes.
Feeling disheartened and frustrated, I turned to walk away, my mind foggy with disappointment. Sans' lack of interest in helping me had been all too apparent, but I couldn't help but feel a twinge of hope that he might have been able to offer some assistance. As I began to move away, I heard him call out to me, his voice laced with amusement. "Can't take a joke?" he said, his smirk evident in his tone. Irritated by his mocking attitude, I turned back to face him, my eyes narrowing as I glared at him. A creepy smile spread across my face as I replied, "You're the joke here!" I could feel the anger bubbling up inside of me, and for a moment, I almost thought I might lash out at him. But instead, I simply turned and walked away, determined not to let his negative energy spoil my day.
Sans regarded me with a perplexed expression, and I felt a twinge of indignation. My initial impulse was to disappear once again, but he dismissed my intention with a scoff and said, "Fine, I'll listen to what you have to say." A glimmer of hope stirred within me, and I asked eagerly, "Really?" He simply nodded in response, and I felt a rush of gratitude."Excellent," I began. "We're all in grave danger, and I was hoping you'd be willing to help me. Based on our past encounters, I believe that with our combined abilities, we might just be able to save everyone." I could feel my pulse quicken with anticipation. Suddenly, he interrupted me with a sharp "ahem," as if to indicate his annoyance. "Wait a minute," he said, his tone now tinged with suspicion. "I have a problem with this plan. Did you encourage Frisk to attempt to kill us all?" His penetrating gaze bore into me, and I felt my cheeks flush with shame."U-UH... noooo...? Okay, maybe," I stammered, feeling a sense of guilt wash over me.
Sans looked at me with suspicion and said, "Okay, that settles it. What did you say about this situation?"I stared back at him coldly, knowing that he wasn't going to like what I was about to say. "Well, I gave a speech. 'LET'S TURN THEM ALL TO DUST'... haha...?" I said with a nervous laugh, hoping to ease the tension. Sans let out a long sigh, clearly disappointed. "And just now, did it occur to you that they were planning to kill EVERYONE, including you? No survivors at all?" he asked with a hint of anger in his voice. Feeling ashamed, I lowered my head and my petals went a bit darker. "Yes, I didn't think about the consequences of my words. I was just trying to be brave and inspire others to fight back," I replied, trying to justify my actions. Sans shook his head in disbelief. "You need to think before you speak, especially in situations like this. We can't afford to make mistakes like that," he said, trying to teach me a lesson.I nodded in agreement, realizing the gravity of the situation. We were facing a grave danger, and we needed to be careful with our words and actions if we were going to survive.
My voice strained with panic as I directed my words at Sans, "Well, it's too late now! They're almost here, and we have to come up with a plan!" I could feel my heartbeat racing as I tried to calm myself down. Sans let out a deep sigh, "I see. So, you said something about combining our powers earlier?" I nodded, "Yes, that's right. If we combine our powers, then we may be able to stop them." Sans looked at me with a serious expression, "Are you sure you want to do this? It's a risky move." I swallowed hard, but then I lifted my head up with newfound determination. "I know it's risky, but we don't have any other options. It's either this or we let them win." Sans nodded in agreement, "Alright then. Let's do this." With a renewed sense of confidence, I took a deep breath and prepared to combine our powers. I knew that it was going to be a tough fight, but I was ready to give it my all.
THE END, of chapter 1 lol
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when did Sarafina realize she was colorblind?
Sarafina’s almost complete achromatopsia was discovered when she was about five years old.
It was actually Frisk who first figured it out…
--------------------------------------------------
Frisk walked into the kitchen to make some after school snacks, and was surprised to see Sarafina already sitting at the table, coloring with crayons. The kindergartener usually had too much pent-up energy after class just to sit around, and Frisk would have to corral her from the backyard, giggling and running around her teenage sibling before coming inside to eat.
Sarafina glanced back at Frisk as they walked up to her, but immediately went back to scribbling on the papers set out before her, barely muttering a hello, ears drooping.
Oh dear.
They ruffled the soft fur on Sarafina’s head between her little horns. “Hey Sweetheart, how was your day?”
Sarafina just shrugged, and picked up another crayon.
Okay, try a different approach.
Frisk pulled up a chair. “Can I color with you?”
Another shrug, but a soft “Sure” as well.
Frisk reached for a sheet of paper. “So, what are we working on today --”
They faltered as they saw all the drawings in front of Sarafina. Or rather, the same drawing over and over.
A red house with a brown roof, pink and purple flowers in window beds, sitting on green grass with a blue sky and yellow sun above it. As close as a five-year-old could get to making the same wobbly picture, copy after copy.
“Are you… practicing this drawing?” Frisk frowned. “Your teacher isn’t giving you homework yet, is she?”
A small shake of her head. “No. I just wanna get the colors right.”
Frisk kept their voice light, but it was tinged with concern. “Aw, sweetheart, coloring is for fun. As long as you like it, it’s the right color.”
She sniffled. “B-but I got them wrong. Miss Jenny said.”
Before Frisk could ask why in the world a kindergarten teacher would tell a child they were coloring wrong, Sarafina started crying.
“But it w-wasn’t my fault! We were suposta read the colors on the paper to color the picture right, b-but the other kids tore the labels offa the crayons!”
Sarafina swiped angrily at her tears “I asked for new ones, but Miss Jenny told me to use the same ones as everybody. A-and she got mad after and told me I s-shouldn’t have colored it wrong just ‘cause I didn’t get what I wanted. But I d-didn’t do it on purpose.”
“Hey, hey, it’s alright, I’m sure you didn’t…” Frisk scooped Sarafina into a hug. “Let’s get our snacks, okay?”
One last sniffle. “Okay.”
Frisk put Sarafina down on the counter, thinking furiously as they pulled carrot sticks and string cheese from the fridge.
The kids had torn the labels off…
“Could you pass me an apple?”
Sarafina wrinkled her nose and poked at the fruit bowl next to her, filled with green granny apples Toriel had just bought. “I can’t eat those, I’m ‘lurgic, remember?”
Frisk smiled and quirked an eyebrow. “Intolerant, not allergic. But I’m not. Apple?”
The little girl made a face, but passed the fruit to them.
Frisk turned the green fruit over in their hands. Carefully they asked, “Sarafina? Sweetheart, what color would you call this?”
Sarafina blinked at them. “Apples are red.”
Frisk held the apple up. “Not green?”
A stubborn frown crossed her face. “Apples are red. My alphabet books said so.”
“I see. What about my shirt?”
“Huh?”
“What color is my shirt?” They pulled at the fabric of the shirt, a blue button-down with red accents on the sleeves and collar.
Sarafina stared, growing visibly upset. “I-I dunno. What color is it supposed to be?”
Frisk let out a slow breath. “Oh, Sweetheart, I think I know what’s going on… we should talk to Mom and Sans about taking you to an optometrist.”
Sarafina’s eyes widened, surprise turning to worry. “Is there something wrong with me?”
“Absolutely not,” Frisk quickly reassured her. “But I think you might see things a little differently than most people. That’s why you were having trouble today. We should probably go to the optometrist to be sure.”
Frisk handed Sarafina a string cheese and picked her up. “And I think we should move you to a different kindergarten class. Your teacher sounds like a butthead.”
“Frisk!” Sarafina giggled “You’re not suposta call people names!”
Frisk grinned at her. “No, you’re not supposed to call people names. If I have significant evidence of someone being a butthead, I’m calling them a butthead.”
Sarafina laughed again. “Nooo, Mama said!”
“Alright, I guess it’s not fair if I can call people names and you can’t.”
Frisk exaggeratedly glanced around.
“Do you want to? Just once?”
Sarafina froze for a moment, then very, very quietly whispered, “Miss Jenny’s a butthead.” And burst into giggles.
Frisk carried the still giggling Sarafina to the living room, sweeping up the identical drawings and tossing them into the trash on the way.
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The Concierge Receives An Elevator Pitch (Part 21)
Don’t say anything. Don’t say it. You manage to restrain yourself from being unpleasant by just a hair, your patience running as thin as your energy. Into the elevator, close the door, press the button. Ignore the skeleton leering at you. Or maybe at your back where you keep your gun.
...He’s not staring at your butt, is he?
“Mister Sans, I appreciate the show of chivalry but I will be fine getting to my own room,” you say as evenly as you can manage, looking at him out of the corner of your eye.
Sans shrugs, shuffling closer to you. Close enough that when he dips his head, when he inhales, you can feel the drag of air. “nothin’ to do with chivalry, sweetheart,” he purrs, licking his teeth. “just wanna spend some time with ya. ain’t a crime.”
And there he goes with that lower case-proper case speak again. It makes you feel a certain way to know that he would only speak like that in certain company. That he had somehow included you in that short list.
No, wait. You need to be professional. Separate.
Sans seems to pick up on your thoughts, or perhaps the way that your expression clams up, because he leans in close with a hand on the wall behind you, murmuring in his baritone voice, “you’re off duty, sweetheart. manager said you could go rest, didn’t she?”
She did. But Sans--
“i’m mooching off o’ Frisk tonight, so technically i haven’t got a room,” he purrs, his face coming closer still. His soft breaths feather over your face, the sliver of exposed skin on your neck. He smells like cherry smoke, ripe cherries, and just the slightest hint of mustard. You don’t want to admit that he smells good, but he smells good. “y’know what that means, sweetheart?”
You look at him in the reflective metal of the elevator door. Oh, you have the urge to say something rude. No, no, better stop yourself. But the neutral expression on your face does slip slightly.
A snigger escapes Sans. “means i ain’t a guest. and that y’ain’t gotta be nice ta me~” His voice dips. “yer a vision when yer mean, y’know that?”
“I’m not entirely certain you want me to be mean to you.” Your reflection is tinged in gold, but you can see the blazing red pilot lights for his eyes, how they are just ever so fuzzy around the edges. His crimson red tongue slips out to lick his teeth again, but this time flicking so close that you swear you can feel its static on your skin.
Suddenly, his words filter through the fog in your brain.
A vision when you’re mean.
“You saw?” At last, you turn your head to regard him, eyes to eyelights. This close, you can smell the cherry and mustard on his breath. Feel the warmth of his body. Sense the desirous intent wafting off of him. Against your will, your eyes spark with warmth.
His eternal grin widens. The scent of cherries grows thicker. “eye guess ya can say it was a sight to behold. can’t believe you’d stab a guy and blow his head off fer me.” His voice deepens even more, the sensuous purr rumbling loud enough that you can feel it rattling against the arm closest to him. “got me real hot under the collar, sweetheart~ don’t suppose you’d wanna help me with that?”
Mere centimetres separate you now, barely an inch, and you have to fight to keep still. The urge to sway into him is great. And you...
Well, you are off duty, aren’t you?
Hands fist in the lapels of an expensive, well crafted suit jacket and haul Sans up to you in a show of strength. You over-estimate the strength needed and end up yanking him to you, crashing his body into yours. The sheer momentum of it makes you stumble back, though you reflexively turn and pin him up against the wall with a thump.
Sans gasps, his hands flying to your wrists. Though he uses some strength to hang onto you, you barely feel it through the sturdy gauntlets housing your hidden knives. “s-shit--sweetheart--” he chokes out, his eye lights blooming wide. Red magic gathers at his cheekbones in a bright blush.
Yes, you think, staring at him with eyes that flicker with the fire licking down your spine. You like seeing him like this. Blushing, looking at you like...like...like this. For all that he’s a broad monster, bigger and wider than you, you’re the one pinning him up against the wall.
You want more of it.
Heat grows in your belly and chases away the fatigue fogging your mind. Your eyes sharpen, darken, and you take a moment to compose yourself. But then you catch sight of the straps of suspenders, now exposed by the way that you’re pinning him by the lapels. Black stripes disappearing up towards his shoulders and under his suit. Contrasting against the crimson of his buttoned-up shirt, matching the black of his tie.
Shit.
“It would be my pleasure to assist you with this, Mister Sans,” you say back evenly, if with a rougher voice. Leaning in, you come close enough to brush your nose against the tip of his nasal bone, close enough to feel the hot blush of magic across his face.
“yeah?” Sans looks as if you had clubbed him over the head, his teeth parted, his tongue visible behind those pearly whites. His hands are similarly fisted in your coat at your waist. Pulling you tight. Keeping you close. As if you weren’t already pinning him against the wall.
Your lashes flutter downwards in a slow blink, your eyes now smouldering with warmth. “Indeed...”
The elevator dings then, thunderous and startling.
Sans growls at the interruption, his sharp phalanges tightening against you. You, on the other hand, only press him into the wall as you push yourself away. Luckily, there is no one awaiting the elevator outside.
“I accept your elevator pitch, Mister Sans,” you say formally, a small smile twitching your lips upwards. “Perhaps we can continue this discussion in a more private setting.”
“lead the fucking way.”
#undertale fics#mafiafell au#mafiafell sans#mafiafell sans x reader#it's getting spicy now#flirty flirty#drabble#ficlet#the concierge#next chapter is going to be more suggestive#might go up to M rating...
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Day 16. Pinned
“Is there something on your mind, Papyrus?” Toriel gently asked the absently staring skeleton.
“Nyeh?” Snapping out of his thoughts, Papyrus grinned sheepishly at the boss monster. “Oh, Lady Toriel! It is N-NOTHING! ...Really!”
“Are you sure? You seemed to be looking my way so curiously. I hope that you know that you can speak with me about anything.”
Papyrus gripped one arm with the other, rubbing at his neck, as if actually wrestling with himself to give an honest answer. “...W-.... Well! Sans and Frisk and I were playing Pillow Tickle Fight earlier, and....” His tangled arms squeezed tighter to himself. “They are both about the same size, so it is easy for me to hold them down and give it my all. But ... I can tell, with me, they hold back, because I kick around so much, they may be worried that I could hurt them....”
“And you are feeling wistful to have the same experience,” Toriel said without judgement. Then her smile grew. “Perhaps daydreaming that I could help you with that, hmm?”
Papyrus squeaked in alarm, cheeks tinging hotly at being so easily found out.
“Do not be embarrassed! I will gladly fulfill your desire, Papyrus.” She approached him gracefully, then giggled with a sly grin as she snatched him up into a bear hug, spidering her claws at his ribs.
“EEE~KH!” Papyrus jolted in her arms, finding himself very secured by her innate strength. No amount of wiggling would loosen him any time soon.
Still going at his ribs, she eased him down to the floor on his front, then settled beside him, leaning with just enough weight to keep him grounded. One paw gripped his shoulder, keeping his torso pinned. Her other snuck under his arm, fingers mercilessly digging into the sensitive spot until the monster beneath her howled.
Occasionally adjusting her position, she kneaded fiercely at his ribs and hips without any room for escape. And all the while, he kicked and thrashed to his SOUL's content without fear of hurting her.
Finally, she slowed the tickles, allowing him space to get up. "How was that for you, Papyrus?"
In lieu of a verbal response, the skeleton hugged her tight.
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Det er tid til en lille indkøbstur, som i virkeligheden bare er en test af om jeg er lige så frisk når jeg skal ting ude i verden som hjemme i lejligheden, nu hvor jeg stadig ikke kan vurdere om jeg er rask nok til at tage afsted til Jylland i morgen :') kryds lige fingre for at jeg ikke er i tvivl om hvorvidt jeg er frisk eller stadig syg for er træt af ikke at vide hvad min weekend står på
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Min åbenbaring
Jeg har lavet et meget dyb og kritisk tankestrøm omkring en potentiel åbenbaring. Jeg har backtracket mit humør, emotionelle tanker, lagt mærke til de positive og de negative samt min respons til hver af dem, kan ærligt sige, at det må være en rigtig åbenbaring.
Min bevidsthed har været på overarbejde, for jeg elsker nysgerrigheden, selvbevidstheden og det ukendte om mig selv. Jeg er føler mig nærmest afhængig af at lære mig selv at kende, kigge dybere ind i mig selv og være bevidst og stille spørgsmålstegn til hvordan jeg agere og responderer, både ude i verden og indeni.
Jeg har oplevet de mest abnorme tanker (I forhold til mig) og lyster de sidste 3-4 dage. Jeg kan pludselig relatere fuldt ud, til hvad jeg førhen ville kalde simple, kliché og ret cringe digte som "Live, Laugh, Love". Det jo virkelig absurd, i forhold til hvordan jeg normalt tænke om det.
En anden vild oplevelse som jeg har været så glad for at kunne observere inde i mig selv - Jeg har ualmindelige stærke følelser af at min underbevidsthed snakker til mig og kommunikere til min bevidsthed. F.eks hver gang jeg har oplevet en negativ tanke, som kommer fra angst såsom "Stilheden gør det akavet nu" - Så har min indre stemme på automatik sagt "Det er okay" - nærmest før at den negative tanke er tænkt og før jeg er blevet helt bevidst om den? Det føles som om at min underbevidsthed passer på mig, og jeg hører konstant den indre stemme sige "Det er okay", og når jeg høre den, smiler jeg, griner lidt dumt og det negative er helt væk.
Jeg går dagligt flere gange med tanken om, at jeg føler mig som en hel ny person? En bedre person, mere frisk, mindre tilbøjelig til computerspil, nikotin og andre toxic vaner.
Jeg græd af glæde, da jeg sad i min seng og blev bevidst om hvor glad jeg er og hvordan det er en hel ny følelse og hvor naturligt og spirituelt det føles.
Jeg har backtracket og tænkt meget over hvordan det skete, hvordan kan jeg pludselig bare føle mig sådan her?
Der er mange små faktorer som har skubbet mig lidt op, som jeg kunne snakke om, men ingen af dem ville have kunne trykket på knapperne og fundet den rigtige kode som åbnede mig op.
Er slet ikke i tvivl om at det var hende. Fra hendes synspunkt og enhver andens ville de nok ikke føle at de havde gjort noget ekstraordinært, men hun skulle bare være hende selv og hun skulle skrive med mig og jeg skulle skrive med hende.
Hun har været så nysgerrig på mit sind, og jeg har fundet ud af, at tale om mit selvbevidsthed og min nysgerrighed er mindst 50% af hvad jeg virkelig har at byde på, som ingen andre på samme måde har formået at åbne op på, på den måde hun gjorde, som bare har slået klik. Det er så dumt og absurd at tænke på, at vi slet ikke har mødtes endnu. Jeg har ikke lyst til at skræmme hende væk, og jeg har endda fortalt det meste til hende af det her og hun er der stadig. Men jeg tror, at jeg ikke kan være andet end forelsket, men det er på en hel anden måde. Jeg er så forelsket i hendes sind. Yin og Yang er det mest fucking relaterbart jeg kan tænke på, det er såå absurd, jeg ved det men er også bare så lykkelig, så det må gerne være cringe og absurd for mig.
Slutter mit psykopat rant af med lidt flere indre observeringer jeg har haft:
Stærk spirituel følelse af at min hoved er blevet lettere, mere ro i sindet.
Stærk følelse af, at jeg ikke gad at have sort tøj på, men en masse farver, fordi jeg følte at det ville udstråle min glæde. Følte mig nærmest utilpas i sort tøj?
Konstant følelse og bevidsthed af hvor overvældende og chokerende (på en dejlig skeptisk og nysgerrig måde) jeg føler mig.
Jeg snakker meget mere, griner meget ofte og typisk meget lettere tilbøjelig til at grine.
Det små ting i livet taler meget til mig nu.
Verden føles bare anderledes og jeg føler mig tilpas i den og forstår min tilstedeværelse.
Jeg kunne ikke forestille mig have lyst til at skrive mørke tanker, men ved ikke om det kan undgås og om det ville være bedst med, tænker lidt der stadig skal være en balance, men føler ikke for det. Har derimod så meget positiv at skrive ned, som jeg aldrig har kunne finde frem til før nu.
Forstå mig ret, det er surrealistisk til det ekstreme, er selv konstant "awe". Skørt, absurd, ja. Det så mange ting, men jeg er bare så taknemmelig.
Spørg endelig hvis du er i tvivl om noget eller vil tage noget op.
Velkommen til min sind.
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Walking up Mt. Talbot wasn't difficult. The mountainous trail leading up its rocky slopes was well worn by previous hikers. Frisk had left just before the dawn with their backpack and trusty walking stick. They weren't going home, going back to school, or to the Doctor's office ever again.
They had decided after a particularly good row with their mom, a bad test score and a good friend of their's being absent. That this whole civilized living thing wasn't for them. It was overrated and living in the woods would be better. Already things were looking up because as the sun began to rise. Beams of light shot through the branches, creating slivers tinged by the green of leaves. It dapples the forest floor in a pattern that shifts every time a cool breeze gusts by.
It was beautiful. Birds are chirping in the branches. The smell of flowers hangs heavy in the air. A singular snail leaves its trail on a mushroom. No burnt toast smell or being hollered at to wake up. No vague artificial smells from scented candles burning too long.
It redoubles Frisk's resolve and they soldier on. Dragging the stick through the dirt along side them. It leaves a line alongside their footsteps. There was no rush, they didn't have anywhere to be. They were Off the time of man, they were on Mountain time now. Following the same time deer and birds were on. Not whatever the alarm clock or the school schedule dictated their life should be.
The day passes in relative simplicity, the sun comes up overhead and they eat a handful of trail mix. Taking a little sip of water to wash it down. They needed to find a water source, and shelter! That would be important. Frisk spends a lot of time laying on their back in the grass, looking up at the clouds passing by. It was just so...peaceful. Everyone else must've been running around like crazy down there. Waaaay back in the town. Doing chores, going to work, going to school.
However, when the rain starts up, their idyllic scenery shifts in a hurry. Gray clouds moving in, thick droplets of water falling onto their head. It sends Frisk scurrying under a tree, though it doesn't provide perfect shelter. Stray drips of water still hit them, and it wasn't Unbearable...
Until the lightning starts, flashing bright across the purple sky. That scared them, more than any prospect of wild beasts or strangers. That great boom makes Frisk run. A brilliant spark of red somewhere in the distance. A fire has started from lightning hitting a tree. So Frisk does the reasonable thing and runs, they run hard further up the mountain. Still away from the town, away from civilization.
When they come upon a cave, they are panting, ragged and sweaty. Wet from the rain, and their own perspiration. The chill inside of the cave rolls through them like a wave, but it beats the pouring rain and lighting outside. It was coming down in sheets, thick drips soaking everything in sight.
At least it was dry here.
Frisk takes off their bag, and then their sweater to ring it out. Flapping the fabric around to straighten it before laying it down on a flat rock. They supposed then they should spend the night here. Not exactly the most comfortable accommodations when compared to bed but...
it sure beat home, didn't it?
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Okay, so Rahn Balethorne!
She is a wood elf, with light coppery brown skin that has a little green tinge at bends, neck and elbows, fingers, etc. Pale green eyes (color of the ring in the reference pics) and black hair with a few streaks of copper towards the front. Hair is short in back and long in front, kind of wavy. She's got a handful of grey glass beads braided into a few of the longer strands, in front of her ears. She's about 5'2, 102 lbs or so- small but with a hint of curve? Ears are longish, and the tips curl in towards her head. Her resting face is pensive and sad, but she has a winsome smile when she's in company. Looking at her- a stranger would want to help her.
She's a druid, Circle of the Land with a Swamp specialty. Her spells have a darkness to them, usually. A hint of things falling into moss and lichen. Her healing touch is either a little cold and clammy or too warm and humid. But she likes pretty things, and poetry and song.
Her armor is light and right now, fairly simple- a long line, high necked tunic style green jerkin with an edge that looks faintly curled like she's druidcrafted lichen along the edges? For the piece I want her shoulders bare though her armor normally covers them. She has a set of antlers tattooed in black on the front of her left shoulder with a red rectangle at the base.
I don't have a face claim, exactly, but i do have one that's very close other than hair and skin tone. I want her facing forward though.
I love her so much, can’t wait to get started bringing her to life! :) love all the cool little details. Also *high five* unsettling healers!!! (My girl frisk is a grave cleric/way of mercy monk - so she’s all about helping people navigate the boundary of life and death and sometimes her magic is kinda unsettling)
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Håland er endelig tilbake i konkurransen
Manchester City-trener Guardiola bekreftet på pressekonferansen før kampen for denne runden i Premier League at det norske geniet Håland offisielt har kommet tilbake og blir tatt ut til Manchester Citys hjemmekamp mot Burnley 1. februar. Dette betyr også at Håland endelig returnerte til de nye kampene. kamp etter nesten 2 måneder med skade. Fansen gleder seg til Håland tar på seg billige fotballdrakter og kommer tilbake til kampen.
Guardiola sa: "Ja, Håland vil være med i troppen igjen, han er tilbake. Når vi har en full tropp, vil vi bli sterkere og Håland i Manchester City drakt er en veldig viktig spiller i laget. Han er Det føles bra nå. "Håland har vært på sidelinjen siden sitt fravær mot Luton Town F.C. den 10. desember på grunn av en stressreaksjon i foten.
Med Håland tilbake til kampen og kaptein de Bruyne frisk fra skade, samlet Manchester City endelig den sterkeste oppstillingen i andre halvdel av sesongen. Dette er åpenbart ikke en god ting for ligatittelrivalene Liverpool og Arsenal.
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Å vere sjuk i Taiwan og Miljøkrisa i Norge
Eg sit på rommet mitt. I leilegheita eg leiger. I Taipei. I Taiwan. Eg er sjuk, men blir snart frisk. Eg var mest sjuk i går. Leilegheita eg leiger ligg rett ved ein av dei store vegane i byen. Ved strekningen utanfor er det fire køyrefelt i kvar retning, åtte felt totalt. Det dundrar trafikk omtrent heile døgnet rundt. Det er slitsamt å vere på rommet mitt på grunn av denne trafikken. Det er òg slitsamt av andre grunnar. Men dei vil eg ikkje snakke om.
Det sug å vere sjuk. Det er som om du blir motvillig haldt tilbake. Verden dundrar på med alle planar og mål. Men du blir sittande heime, medan du kikkar på ein serie eller søv vekk dagane. Eg vil ikkje vere sjuk. Eg hatar å ligge som ein slapp fisk. Varm og kald samstundes. Med mykje vilje og mange ynskjer, men inga kraft. Og så skal eg vere sjuk i Taiwan òg. Av alle plassar eg skal vere sjuk så er det på rommet mitt i Taiwan. Rommet kvar eg ikkje orkar å sove utan ei pute over hovudet, for å dempe den forbanna trafikken som ikkje klarar å ta pause. Av alle tider eg skal bli sjuk så er det sjølvsagt i den helga kvar eg skulle på valvake for presidentvalet i Taiwan, på ekskursjon med taiwanske vener, og så på konsert som prikken over i-en. Eg hatar å vere sjuk. Òg eg hatar å vere sjuk i Taiwan.
Eg skal liksom oppleve så mykje i Taiwan. Eg er her tross alt berre i 9 månader. Eg skal meistre språket. Eg skal forstå kulturen. Eg skal bli ein ekspert. Men her ligg eg. Sjuk. Hadde det ikkje vore for dei støydempande hovudtelefonane mine hadde eg blitt drevet til vanvit av trafikken òg.
Eg vil gjere meir. Eg vil verkeleg føle eg meistrar språk og kultur i Taiwan. Eg vil meistre livet her. Vere nokon som kan sei at dei veit. Vere ein kjelde til informasjon og forståing. Men eg klarar jo ikkje å oppnå det når eg er sjuk. Når eg går glipp av ting eg ville gjere. I staden for var eg heime og sveitta senga våt medan eg såg på Bård Tufte Johansen utforske korleis det sto til med naturen i Norge i serien «Oppsynsmannen». Det var ein utruleg bra serie. Ein eg meiner alle i Norge har godt av å sjå. For Norge utviklar seg i ein grå og dyster retning. Me går feil framtid i møte.
Men klarar eg ikkje å oppnå forståing om Taiwan når eg er sjuk? Er det sant? Eller er eg eigentleg berre lat når eg ser på Bård traske rundt i Norge, når eg kunne sitt på noko på Mandarin. Kanskje Bård kan lære seg mandarin. Eg kjenner på denne tvilen. Eg kjente på det i Norge når eg tok ein bachelor i Kinesisk- med Kina-studium òg. Kvifor dukkar eg ikkje djupare inn i kulturen, i språket? Kvifor ser eg på denne norske filmen, kvifor les eg denne engelske boka? Eg må jo betre kinesisken min. Eg må vere på og jobbe heile tida. Eg hatar den tankegangen. Men eg slit med å bli kvitt den.
Mange snakkar om at det ikkje er godt med for mykje av noko. Alt i moderasjon. Det er bra å vere engasjert og på, berre ikkje gravlegg deg i negativ sjølvomtale om det pausar opp. Det er bra med økonomisk vekst og fleire vegar. Større vegar. Breiare vegar. Pisspreik. Du treng faen meg ikkje enda fleire monstervegar som brøytar seg igjennom alt me nordmenn likar med Norge. Politikarar og utbyggarar lev med tunellsyn. Det viktigaste er vekst. For vekst betyr auka velstand. På kva faens områder treng nordmenn auka velstand? Me er eit av dei mest velståande landa i verda. Me har velstand.
Ein er blitt blind av pengar. Me lev i eit pengegalt samfunn. Det er viktig med pengar seier ein. Pengar skapar moglegheiter for arbeidsplassar. Har ein fleire arbeidsplassar så kan fleire dele i velstanden. Då kan fleire gå på hytta. Fleire kan ta helgeferie i marka. Fleire kan reisa på bytur i ferien. Hadde me ikkje det for 20-30 pluss år si? Var det ikkje mogleg for folk å bu fint og flott, utan at ein skulle sprenge Lågendeltaet i to for å bråke av gårde med firefelts motorveg?
Sjukdommen siv ut av meg. Men trafikken blir. Eg er forbanna på meg og min eigen kropp for å bli sjuk når det var så mykje spennande som skulle skje. Eg vil oppleve så mykje meir. Eg vil bli smart på alt eg omringast av i dette ukjente landet. Men det går bra. Eg klarar meg overraskande bra, sjølv om eg har vore sjuk ei helg. Kanskje eg blir litt sakka ned mot målet mitt. Men det står ikkje på liv og død. Og på same måte som at det går fint for meg. For deg. Å bli sjuk ein gang i blant. Å ta ein pause frå køyret og presset frå samfunnet ein gang i blant. Så går det fint å ikkje alltid måtte bygge ut nye motorvegar og industriparkar og alt anna grått. Kanskje me kan ta ein pause i bygginga og kikke på litt andre meir berekraftige løysningar. Løysningar som ikkje krev at me riv grøn natur sundt for å bygge ‘grøn’ industri. Det er eit paradoks. Eit unødvendig paradoks.
Eg håpar fleire folk sluttar å tenke som i Stanley Jakobsen sin kjende song, «I morgon, i morgon, men ikkje i dag». Det hjelp ikkje med evig utsetting. Naturen ventar ikkje. Den døyr ein sakte død.
Inspirasjon for denne gangs skrivesus:
Å vere sjuk i Taiwan
Bård Tufte Johansen sin nye serie i NRK, Oppsynsmannen. https://tv.nrk.no/serie/oppsynsmannen
NRK sin avsløring om kor mykje natur som har blitt øydelagt i Norge sidan 2017. https://www.nrk.no/dokumentar/xl/nrk-avslorer_-44.000-inngrep-i-norsk-natur-pa-fem-ar-1.16573560
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24/MAR/20XX
i've been sitting in the same uncomfortable spot for about fifteen minutes.
it's uncomfortable because it keeps moving.
to get more comfy, i tried to adjust a pillow... but the spot complained immediately.
"You're gonna give away my hiding place!!"
a hand shot out of the gap in the blankets created from moving that pillow, snatching it back.
"shoulda picked a better spot, if you're that worried about me blowing your 𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 operation, here."
"I was here first, boneman."
"my couch, my rules."
"There are other seats!"
"yeah."
"So?? Move???"
"nah."
"this is the most annoying place for me to sit."
"so, uh."
patting the now-irritated conveniently-shaped blanket pile.
"i'm not movin' an inch."
"BRo-"
"Actually."
"You might help me blend in."
"here, lemme help more."
i leaned all my weight backwards against the wrapped-up child. this was met with noises of complaint.
"MooOveee!!!"
"You're crushing me!"
"maybe 'help' was too much of a 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘦𝘵 statement for what i was gonna do."
"Agh!!"
"Not like this!"
frisk kicked both of their socked feet out and against my back; knocking me forward off the couch. there was a loud 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩 as i hit the floor.
decidedly, getting up is too much work, so i flip onto my back and just stay there.
that is, for about two minutes. the front door swings open and papyrus appears above me.
"SANS!"
"heya."
"WHY ARE YOU-"
"so pil𝘭𝘰𝘸 to the ground?"
"...ON THE FLOOR?"
"fell. didn't bother getting up."
"UGH!! GET UP! QUIT BEING A LAZYBONES, THE COUCH IS RIGHT THERE!!!"
"eh, too far."
my legs were still on the seat partially.
"IF YOU DON'T GET UP, I'LL MAKE YOU."
"is that supposed to be a 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥? 'cuz that's fine by me if you wanna help me with blan𝘬𝘦𝘵-ting up."
papyrus rolls his eyes and scoffs.
"FINE. BE ON THE FLOOR."
"I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR YOUR..."
he picks up the blanket frisk was under and drops it on my face.
"𝘚𝘏𝘌𝘌𝘛 RIGHT NOW."
"I HAVE A HUMAN TO FIND!"
"NYEHEHEHEHEHEHEH!!"
cackling at his own joke, papyrus spins out the door without noticing frisk at all, despite uncovering them himself.
"....heheheh."
now i'm the one cackling, looking at frisk's shocked face.
"that's quite the look."
"you've heard him say that word before, y'know."
"There's about three different things contributing to this."
"Mostly..."
"He didn't see me???"
"nope."
"....?????"
groaning, i finally sat upright. after getting onto my feet, dramatically draping the blanket back over frisk like a tablecloth is the first thing i did.
i tossed myself onto the couch seat beside them.
"gonna keep hiding?"
"Game's not over yet."
"well. if he comes back in here, your luck might not be as good the second time. if you really wanna win..."
"probably best if you find yourself a new spot."
this seemed to snap them out of their shock, as they set off with a determined constitution (and the blanket, still) within seconds.
#undertale#journal#sans#frisk#papyrus#sans and frisk#frisk and sans#papyrus and frisk#skelebros#sheet(y) jokes
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