a series of sbi oneshots

piercing

sbi forces tommy to get a peircing

or

technos a jerk

Techno plays idly with his hair, Tommy sighs happily and snuggles closer. He’s always loved it when they run their fingers through his curls. He never has to brush these days, not with how often Phil, Wilbur, and especially Techno comb through his hair with their fingers. 

Techno purrs, the sound briefly obscuring the sound of his heart under Tommy’s ear. His claws gently trace patterns into Tommy’s scalp, migrating down to his temple, his cheekbone. 

Techno runs a finger over the shell of Tommy’s ear, a reflexive shiver runs down his spine. Techno chuckles softly and rubs his earlobe between his fingers. “You’ve never gotten them pierced?” 

Tommy makes a questioning sound. 

“Your ears, never pierced ‘em?” 

Tommy shrugs, “seemed dumb, not got anything to put in ‘em.” 

“It has nothing to do with how much you hate needles, I’m sure,” Wilbur pipes up. 

Tommy opens one eye to glare at him. “Bitch boy. I’m not fucking scared of needles, I am a big man.” 

“I never said you were scared,” Wilbur sing-songs, “you brought that up yourself. Methinks the boy doth protest too much.” 

Tommy growls, lifting his head off of Techno’s chest to hit Wilbur with a two-eyed glare. “Fuck you.” 

Phil laughs and his hand appears from above to run through Tommy’s hair. “You’d look good with earrings,” he says softly, “gold. An emerald.” 

Techno purrs beneath him, his arms curl around Tommy’s shoulders and he drags him back down to his chest. 

“You’re fucking baiting him,” Tommy mutters, “I’m not getting my ears pierced.” 

Techno makes a mournful noise. 

“See? Now he’s fuckin’ sad!” 

“Oh come on,” Wilbur coos, standing up from his own chair to kneel beside them. He tilts Tommy’s head, inspecting his earlobe, “you wouldn’t have to see the needle.” 

“No, fuckface. Go away.” 

Techno rumbles, half a purr, half a growl. “Earrings would look good,” he says, his eyes glinting red. 

“No,” Tommy snaps. Why the fuck do they have to be so pushy all the time? He already lets them control his entire fucking wardrobe. 

Techno snarls.

Tommy freezes, his heart in his throat. Techno hasn’t made that sort of sound at him since he first got here, when he was still trying to escape. “Techno?” he asks, soft and hesitant and if that version of himself could hear him-- 

Techno growls, grumpy, but not furious. Tommy swallows his heart back down to where it belongs. 

Techno sits up slowly, keeping him caged to his chest. “No?” Techno asks finally. His head cocks, an almost birdlike motion. Sharp, like the tusks that glint in the air as he does it. 

Tommy looks down, a chill running down his spine. 

Techno cups his jaw and makes him look up. “No? Little one?” he asks again. 

“I--” Tommy croaks. 

“I think, that you’ve forgotten a lesson here, Theseus,”Techno growls, “you’re mine, you’re ours.” His grip tightens on Tommy’s jaw. “We tell you to eat, you eat, we tell you to sleep, you sleep. We tell you what to wear, you wear it. Clothes, shoes, jewelry.”