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Summary:

"You made me an offer, once. If I ever needed to blow off some steam, to-"
"Come see me."

Notes:

feminine terminology used for mizuki (like pussy + cunt + clit) this is your only warning ok love you
not beta read, if you see a mistake no you didn't :)

sorry my guest friends, comments are locked to registered users because someone can’t behave themselves and is acting a fool down there🤭

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Mizuki had never wanted anything more than to accept Wuyang’s invitation to stay the night. Needed it like oxygen, and he felt like he was suffocating as he declined and ran away, the Hashimoto tattoo spanning his back burning like a brand.

He didn’t know where he was running to, just that he was running, and running, and running, until he came to a door, breathless and needy. Before he could think twice, he knocked heavily on the old wood until it creaked open.

“What is it?” Emre yawned around a disgruntled huff. His hair was mussed and he was bare save for a pair of worn sweatpants, his flat cables wrapping around his arms and chest to their respective ports.

Mizuki took a step past the half-asleep Emre into the small apartment. Frantic mechanical whirring began emanating from the other man’s chest as a deep orange and sprawling pixelation began to overtake his arms, one shooting out to bar Mizuki from taking another step.

Mizuki looked down at the obstruction, unimpressed. “You made me an offer, once.”

Emre seemed to fight an internal battle, the parasitic machinery ebbing and flowing like the tide over his body.

“If I ever needed to blow off some steam, to—”

“Come see me,” Emre finished, his voice strange and echoey. Clearing his throat, he backed out of the doorframe to let Mizuki actually enter the apartment. He gave a quick glance over Mizuki’s dirty t-shirt, ripped jeans, and thin black surgical mask and frowned. “Rough mission?”

“Something like that.”

“Your college boy there?”

Mizuki’s muscles locked. “Don’t call him that.”

“What? College boy?” Emre laughed, short and mean. “Or yours?”

Mizuki yanked his mask off, not caring where it landed as he crashed his lips against Emre’s, pulling back when he was satisfied with the silence. “Are you going to help me, or are you going to keep mocking me?”

A sharp grin tugged at Emre’s mouth. “I can do both, princess.” He reached for the hem of Mizuki’s shirt, glancing up with a waiting question in his eyes.

“Just— Hurry up, will you?”

Emre clicked his tongue. “If I’m helping you, we’re starting my way. We can finish your way, but I like to…” He slid his palms under Mizuki’s shirt and over his chest, fingers lightly tugging on cool metal. “Savor my meals.” He dove back in for another kiss, licking his way across Mizuki’s teeth until they closed harshly around his tongue, springing a taste of iron in their mouths. “Brat,” he hissed, one corrupted hand shooting up to Mizuki’s throat and squeezing tightly. The moan that tumbled from Mizuki’s lips stalled Emre.

“Oh, you like that?” Emre crooned, letting the parasite-controlled arm squeeze a little tighter.

Mizuki’s hips bucked up. “Fuck— you.”

Emre tutted. “Other way, tonight. You woke me up. This is my compensation.” He watched, fascinated, as Mizuki writhed in his grip. Only after Mizuki’s twitching slowed to a concerning rate did Emre’s hand finally let go, the orange and black coloration racing away. Mizuki coughed, taking a few heaving gasps.

Composing himself, Mizuki spat out his one rule as he yanked his shirt off. “No marks above the collar.”

“Boo, you’re no fun.”

“You have the rest of my body. Do with it what you will. Just make it good.”

“Of course, princess.” Emre leaned in to mouth gently at the junction of Mizuki’s neck and shoulder, careful not to suck or bite too harshly. He licked a wet stripe up the column of his neck, ending with a sharp nip at his earlobe, leaving Mizuki’s hands trembling where they sat at Emre’s bare waist.

Emre pulled back, grinning at the already debauched expression flattering Mizuki’s face. This is going to be fun, he mused. Lowering his head, he started biting and marking his way across Mizuki’s chest, paying special attention to his piercings, fascinated with every moan and curse and sharp inhale that he was able to draw from the shorter man. He walked them backwards to his bedroom door, fumbling with the doorknob until it swung open to let him pull them backwards onto the bed, craning his neck up to keep kissing Mizuki. Keeping a tight grip on Mizuki’s waist, Emre drank up every gasp and grinned when quiet whimpers escaped from Mizuki.

Mizuki sighed into the kiss, visibly relaxing against Emre’s body and sinking closer and closer until their bare chests were touching, the chill metal encasing the robotic eye sending shivers down Mizuki’s spine. “Fuck,” he murmured against Emre’s lips. “Who knew you’d be such a good kisser?”

Emre pulled at his lower lip with his teeth, eyes glinting. “Can do a lot with this mouth, sweetheart.”

Mizuki scoffed. “Show, don’t tell.”

“Sure thing, your highness.”

In one smooth motion, Emre flipped them over, caging Mizuki beneath him. Slipping a finger under his waistband, he gave a few teasing strokes at the soft skin of Mizuki’s lower stomach, but Mizuki’s chain wrangled his arm to his upper body before he could go lower.

Emre froze, studying Mizuki’s face. He was turned away, face lightly flushed while he worried at his lower lip.

“Hey, hey… what’s wrong?” Emre tried to scoot back, but the chain snaked further down his body, holding him in place as he straddled Mizuki’s knees.

“I— goddammit. I don’t have a dick?” It came out as a question, and Mizuki winced. “I don’t.”

Emre’s face fell in horror. “Did the Hashimoto castrate you?”

Mizuki let out a surprised laugh. “What? No? First of all, that’s just the balls.”

“Semantics!”

“Emre,” Mizuki started, all previous humor vanishing in an instant. “I don’t have a dick.” He looked at him pointedly, allowing the chain to slowly slither back into his forearm.

“Yes, you said that. You— oh.” Emre grinned wolfishly. “Oh,” he repeated, practically purring. “Sweetheart, that is not a problem. Can I keep going?”

Mizuki’s whole face went beet red and he brought a hand up to hide behind. “Yeah.”

“Perfect,” Emre dragged the vowels. He made quick work of the button and zipper of Mizuki’s jeans, lifting Mizuki by the waist to pull them off. “So fucking pretty,” he muttered, holding one pale, slender leg straight up to kiss at Mizuki’s ankle, his other hand playfully petting at his inner thigh. A small wet patch sat between Mizuki’s thighs, the light fabric of his boxers shifting to a darker hue. Experimentally, Emre stroked his pointer finger down once, and Mizuki jerked, hissing out a gasp.

“Oh, sensitive?”

“Obviously.”

Emre tutted. “We need to work on your behavior. You’re lucky I’m feeling generous tonight.” He pulled Mizuki’s boxers off with a quick tug, then pushed himself back to lay on his stomach between Mizuki’s thighs. He kissed a dark, blooming mark against the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, drawing gasping, pleased breaths from Mizuki. He grazed his teeth over the forming bruise as he trailed his pointer finger up through the slick wetness slowly dripping out of Mizuki, then dipped it into Mizuki’s cunt.

“So wet already,” Emre murmured against Mizuki’s thigh, almost sounding awed. “Am I that good, or are you just needy?”

Mizuki keened softly in response as Emre added a second finger, scissoring him open with precision. Emre was giving him his undivided attention, watching for every twitch and gasp while he bit at soft thighs and twisted his fingers deeper and wider, drawing lewd moans from Mizuki.

He felt Mizuki relax under him, starting to unabashedly enjoy the warm pleasure Emre was gifting him, and Emre could feel a smile spread across his face. That wouldn’t do. Leaving one last stinging bite behind, he ducked forward and sucked Mizuki’s clit into his mouth.

Hngh! Emre— fuck—

Emre laughed against Mizuki’s cunt, then started to lap up the sticky mess while he continued to plunge his fingers into Mizuki. Flattening his tongue, he gave a long, laving lick over Mizuki’s folds, finishing with another suck on Mizuki’s clit.

Mizuki’s hands had flown to Emre’s hair, knotting his fingers in the soft brown locks to ground himself. He subconsciously tugged at the strands, leaving a path of stinging sparks over Emre’s scalp as he continued to eat his fill of Mizuki’s pussy.

Mizuki let out a strangled gasp, his back flying up into an arch away from the mattress, and Emre followed the motion, guiding him through his orgasm with his fingers and tongue. He kept lapping at Mizuki like a man starved until he was shaking, trying to pull away as soft whines careened past his lips as the sensation went from heaven-sent to overwhelming. He yanked harsher at Emre’s hair, finally getting the other man to stop. Mizuki’s heart stuttered as he stared at Emre’s face, all blown pupils with spit and—fuck, Mizuki on his chin, slowly sliding down towards his beard. Emre swiped a thumb across his jaw, collecting the stray mess, and slowly licked it clean.

“So, was that enough of a show?” Emre teased.

“God, yes. I’m starting to worry you got so good at eating pussy because your dick is tiny and can’t get the job done,” Mizuki joked, wanting to rile Emre up, maybe get him to choke him out again. Emre didn’t rise to the challenge.

He just laughed. “Yeah. Sorry, princess. It’s barely even there.”

Mizuki’s heart skipped yet another beat at the breathy laugh Emre gave him. Narrowing his eyes, he pushed himself up on the bed further, trying to get a glimpse of the tent in Emre’s sweatpants.

“Oh.” He was huge.

Emre laughed again. “Might be too much for you, doll.”

“Please,” Mizuki whimpered brokenly. “I can take it.” He needed to take it.

Emre bent down, drawing Mizuki into a slow, deep kiss, letting him taste himself on his tongue until he was gasping around quiet moans against Emre’s lips.

“Emre, stop—” Mizuki let out a soft, content sigh. “Teasing.”

“I’m not teasing. I like kissing you, sue me.” Emre gave him one last kiss, pulling away with a flick of his tongue against Mizuki’s lower lip before sitting up to straddle his waist. “You clean?”

Mizuki nodded, his hair bunching against the pillowcase. “Still need a condom though,” he sighed.

“You don’t sound happy about that.”

“Well, I don’t have a lot of choice. I don’t want to get pregnant.”

Emre wordlessly pressed his hand against Mizuki’s lower stomach, a deep sadness and longing flashing through his eyes so briefly that Mizuki wondered if he’d imagined it. “I’m sterile,” Emre said. “Dr. O’Deorain made sure of that. If you want me raw, I can give that to you.”

The sharp undercurrent of worry gave way for a rushing wave of want. “Cum inside me,” Mizuki breathed.

“Your wish is my command,” Emre cracked a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He untied the lace of his sweatpants and tossed them to the side, not caring where they landed. Eyes drawn to the bulge in his underwear, Mizuki swallowed thickly and sat up fully.

“Can I?”

Emre nodded in response, and Mizuki’s hands flew up to stroke over Emre’s cock, still hidden behind his boxers. He pulsed and twitched under Mizuki’s fingers, and Mizuki’s stomach flipped excitedly. He pushed himself back until he was pressed against the headboard of the bed, tugging Emre forward by the backs of his thighs. Mizuki let out a shaky breath as he traced a fingernail down Emre’s bulge. He didn’t give any warning before he followed the path with his tongue, planting wet, open-mouthed kisses along his length, making Emre groan and drop his hand to grip Mizuki’s hair. Mizuki whined at the tight hold, looking up at Emre through his lashes, still working his tongue over Emre through the thin fabric.

Emre took in Mizuki’s watery eyes and pleased moans with reverence and felt his dick throb. “Fuck…”

Mizuki hummed quietly, sinking into the inviting mindlessness waiting for him as he breathed in Emre’s scent. Emre tugged Mizuki back, grinning as he half-sobbed, half-whined at the forced pause. “Oh, baby. Don’t worry, just taking these off.” He lifted his knee to roll off of Mizuki, quickly stripping his boxers off before assuming the same position as before, bare cock straining up against his stomach in front of Mizuki’s face.

Mizuki didn’t hesitate. He opened his mouth and leaned forward onto Emre’s thick cock, moaning wantonly as the warmth filled his mouth entirely, poking at his throat and threatening to make him gag. His eyes fluttered shut, sending a stray tear rolling down his cheeks as he relaxed against the headboard.

Emre watched him swallow around his dick curiously. When Mizuki continued to stay still, he rocked his hips forward slightly. “Mizuki, you’re not falling asleep on me, are you?”

Mizuki hummed in dissent, opening his eyes to give Emre a pointed look.

Catching his drift, Emre groaned. “I’m never letting you go after this, you know that right?” He shifted on his knees to get a better angle and cradled the back of Mizuki’s head to protect it from slamming into the headboard, then started fucking into Mizuki’s mouth with reckless abandon. Each pull promised a warm, wet, delicious slide and each push rewarded him with a wet gag and fresh tears spilling down Mizuki’s face as he whined and choked around Emre’s dick. The salty taste of musk, sweat, and pre-cum coated Mizuki’s tongue as he dug his fingers into the meat of Emre’s thighs, one set leaving stinging crescents from his nails and the other applying cool, blunt pressure.

Mizuki’s pliant mouth was bringing Emre closer to the edge than he’d like to admit, and he blamed it entirely on the absolutely ruined look on Mizuki’s face. Reluctantly pulling out, he stroked his fingers over Mizuki’s cheeks reverently while he cried softly at the loss of Emre’s dick. “Oh, princess. You’re just made for this, aren’t you? A cock drunk slut like you needs this, and it’s been too long, hasn’t it?” When all he got in response was a broken whine, Emre tapped his cheek harsher, bordering on a full slap, savoring the way Mizuki’s pupils dilated. Emre dove in for a kiss that was all teeth, his dick straining painfully against his stomach. “So fucking pretty, aren’t you?”

Spit slipped down Mizuki’s chin, and Emre bent down to catch it with his tongue. “Alright. Flip over.”

Mizuki groggily obeyed, planting his knees on the mattress and laying his head down on his forearms.

Emre gave a low, appreciative whistle at the view in front of him. Mizuki’s slender back arched elegantly and put his tattoo on full display—two white tigers stalking around a lotus—leaving Emre to grasp firmly at his hips, stroking his thumbs across the dimples at the base of Mizuki’s spine.

“For me?” A robotic voice finally hissed out of Emre’s throat, though his mouth didn’t shape the words.

Emre was quick to correct the entity. “No, for us. You were very patient, I’ll let you have a taste.”

“…Fine.”

Mizuki shuddered below them—him—and tucked his face into his elbow.

Emre sighed, sliding his hands higher to wrap around Mizuki’s waist. “Don’t worry. It’ll behave. Chernobog and I have a… working relationship.”

“Right,” Mizuki replied softly. He was choosing to trust Emre, though every instinct was screaming at him to get the fuck away from the AI settled in his chest. That Emre was dangerous. Something hot and stiff prodded at his cunt, and he shuddered as it slowly pushed in.

“Fuck,” Emre breathed out, his voice taking on that same dual-toned robotic quality as before.

Mizuki wiggled his hips, and the motion made Emre sink further in. “Come on, Sarioglu. Get on with it,” but his demand fell flat with the weak quivers in his voice and legs. Emre held still, teasing Mizuki until he couldn’t take it any longer and pushed the rest of the way into Mizuki, both men moaning as he bottomed out. Emre slowly, tantalizingly, pulled out then slammed back in with one quick thrust, his hands squeezing Mizuki’s waist so hard that he was likely to leave bruises.

Mizuki’s eyes flew open as he choked on a silent scream. The head of Emre’s dick hit his cervix with precision each time he rammed back inside, the pleasure-pain sending jolts of electricity up Mizuki’s spine as he wailed on Emre’s cock, keeping his face buried in his now spit covered forearms as drool pooled at the corners of his mouth.

“Please, please, oh f- fuck, right there, yes—” Mizuki babbled into his arm, tears streaming down his face as all previous worries about his safety vanished, allowing him to sink back into that haze of bliss, taking everything Emre had to give him.

He was violently jolted out of that haze when Emre’s grip around his waist turned scalding hot.

Mizuki jerked forward, crying out.

“Sorry,” Emre grit out, his voice strained. “It runs a little warm.”

“A little?!” Mizuki was sure he’d have hand prints burned over bruises at his waist.

A second voice slid out of Emre’s throat, staticky and rough around the edges, like it wasn’t used to speaking. Chernobog, Mizuki thought. “Interesting. I understand how this could be pleasurable. He does—” A harsh mechanical whirring filled Mizuki’s ears before the voice continued. “Feel? I am not sure that is correct. I do not feel, but you do. He ‘feels’ good around you, like this.” The sentence was punctuated with a harsh thrust, punching a guttural groan out from Mizuki.

Emre’s voice took control again, his thrusting returning to controlled, precise rolling of his hips. “Be polite, he’s in the room with us. Tell him he’s doing good.”

“I… do not compute.” Chernobog sounded vaguely distressed.

“I’ll show you.”

Mizuki’s head was spinning. The switching of voices and temperaments of the person fucking into him—one second patient and careful, the next almost reckless abandon—had him reeling, unable to ground himself until—

Emre wrapped a hand around the front of Mizuki’s neck, bending over him as he gave a light squeeze. “There he is,” he murmured hotly into Mizuki’s ear. “Doing so good for us, isn’t he? Look how he’s clenching around us.”

“He is… fascinating,” Chernobog conceded. It took control of the hand around Mizuki’s neck, squeezing harder and leaving an angry red burn behind. “He does take you well. I do not think he would reject anything from you in this mental state.”

“How does that make you feel?”

Mizuki knew the question wasn’t directed at him, but he let out a low whine all the same, making Emre chuckle.

“He likes the idea. What about you? How does it feel to have him at your mercy?”

“I have stated already that I do not ‘feel.’ You are being purposefully obtuse.”

Mizuki sank into the mattress, letting Emre pound into him and bicker with Chernobog over what ‘feeling’ meant to the AI. He bit into his lip, drawing a sharp metallic sting onto his tongue while his eyes rolled back. It was too much and not enough all at once, and his mounting frustration sent his hand reaching backwards to rub over his clit.

A burning hot hand shot out and grasped his wrist firmly, pulling a hurt hiss from Mizuki. He sobbed on a whine, twisting in the AI’s grip. “Please,” he gasped. “I need it. I need you, Emre, Chernobog, whoever you are! Please, I— hah… I thought you said I was good!”

The two voices stopped, and the thrusts slowed.

“Oh,” Chernobog rumbled.

“I told you you’d see what I meant.”

“He is good. He is perfect for us.”

Emre laughed, running a light tracing touch down Mizuki’s spine. “Hear that, princess? You’ve got a God program singing your praises.”

Mizuki whimpered at the realization, shivering as Emre resumed his quick, precise thrusts, gradually picking up speed in search of his own release.

A strange mixing cacophony of the two distinct voices huffed out their own differing praise and moans, ending with a unified, “So pretty, baby, so pretty,” that left Mizuki gasping and clenching around Emre—Chernobog?—Emre. A molten hot finger slipped between his legs to rub at his clit, and Mizuki hurtled over the edge, going limp as he came. The waves of his orgasm pulled Emre under with him, and after one last deep seated thrust, Emre came deep inside Mizuki.

He slipped out, watching as his cum began to pool at the entrance to Mizuki’s cunt. He pushed two fingers in and gently finger fucked his cum back inside, savoring the weak whines tumbling from Mizuki’s lips.

When Mizuki felt capable of basic human function again, Emre had wiped him down with a warm washcloth and had even carefully cleaned his cum from inside of Mizuki as best he could before dressing Mizuki in an old, oversized college tee.

Emre stepped back into the room carrying a glass of water that was promptly offered to Mizuki.

“So,” Emre grinned, sliding up next to Mizuki on the bed. “You satisfied?”

Mizuki stayed silent for a moment, everything that had occurred rushing back to him in full force. “What the fuck.”

“Same time next week?”

“…Yes, please.”