#&&. drabble ( scratches leave scars )

[streetslost]

   “EVERYTHING HE TAUGHT YOU...  you’ll be better off if you let your mind start to forget it.”  her voice was light, cautious, but somehow still direct.  strong, commanding.  the same tone she had always used when training cat back those years ago.  alone in a room or a clearing, sweat beading them both, BRUISES blooming across pale exposures of flesh, gazes sharp and challenging.  sweetie back then had been a woman of few words, so she corrected the younger’s movements with firm grasps or repeated demonstrations.  these days, in this place... she spoke more.  and it seemed she s t i l l had advice to give in a world outside the ring.            the brunette tilted her attention up.  sweetie was on the smaller size, but she was still taller than the teenager.  cat grimaced, clenching her teeth, inhaling, then releasing.  allowing her mind to ponder the words, mull them over, turning in her brain like an object to inspect... and feeling repulsed.  “...why?  shitty as it all was, it’s kept me alive.”    “you’re alive, but you’re miserable and angry and on the verge of exploding any day now.”                      a statement that cut with the sheer truth of it.  cat flinched, pulling away and folding her arms.  closing off, trying to restore the barrier around her that had crumbled to a shattered mess at her feet.  hackett had broken a c o u p l e things that not too long ago night.  hues of green scanned the carpeted floor below.  this place was strange... a house.  a home?  sort of.  not her home.  she felt like a chewed up piece of gum spat on the middle of a marble floor.  out of place, hideous, unwanted.  sweetie didn’t force her into anything, but that only made cat feel less apart of it.         elder woman maneuvered around her, slow and calm, stepping back into line of sight.  “you’re allowed to hurt.  to be scared and angry.  you’re allowed to feel things.  the world isn’t going to condemn you in the way you think.”                        “it already did!  what do you call running int’that FUCKER.  i let my guard down, i stopped being on top of it and in control of things like copper said...  it’s how i got arrested, it’s how vinnie...  it’s how that man... it’s why i’m here, practically begging you for help because i don’t know what t’do anymore!”  words spilled faster than she could comprehend.  too much too much-  she was still so vulnerable, and it was going to land her in misery again.  had to get it together, had to.  despite the fact throat felt raw, eyes stung.  she swallowed and breathed, but dry sobs slipped.  her entire body burned.

    “if i just... go back t’what i learned, i’ll be fine.  i can’t keep being weak.  look at me.”                         “you look like a teenager who went through hell.”       arms thrust down by cat’s side, a foot stomped below her, frustration energized.  “and it’ll get worse if i don’t get myself back together!  i CAN’T do this.  i can’t be here, i can’t be anywhere, i have one skill and one use and one bit of value.  being a thief... being a criminal.  it’s all he made me t’be.”  scratchy, shallow, chest heaving faster and faster.  anxiety, fury, fingernails dug into the skin of her palms.  dug, dug, dug.  stinging, feeling, focusing.  concentrating.  another inhale.  then it all came to a pause.  bottled up, a volcano, her eruption now trapped behind closed lips pressing together.  keep it together like you were taught.  maybe she could survive.                  “you’re a girl.  with hopes and dreams and feelings and needs.  you’re just scared of the possibility... of being outside what you know.  it’s easier to sit back and let that feel like all it can be.  because if you’re alone and angry and doing b a d things... then you can’t be hurt.  because then you think you deserve anything negative.  i know, cat.  i felt that way before.  it took a lot time before i found that i could have...”  sweetie’s calm expression would look all around, taking in the room, the building, the freedom...  “more.  and you can, too.  it’ll be scary and hard, but if you don’t try-”     “i don’t... want... to try.  even if... something good happens...  it will never last.  not for me.”                   attention returned to the younger.  sweetie finally dared to reach out, but cat twisted away from her, as though the touch would be acid against her scared and ragged skin.  she shrunk.  a child, she was only a child.  sweetie’s hands paused, hovering in the air just before her old mentee.  “this place can last... if you want to stay.  i’ll take care of you.  like i used to but... healthier.”         cat dodged around her, hurried steps carrying her to the entryway.  no intention to fully leave just yet, but she needed to split from the presence of her companion.  sweetie’s words were true but terrifying, and cat r e c o i l e d in a fear she had already admitted.  wouldn’t speak to anymore.  instead.  crumbling tone, shaky limbs.  “it won’t last.  it can’t last.”                             quick pace a flurry; she left.          sweetie once more examined the empty room, a reflection of the barren spot she knew was left in cat’s chest.

[diwatopia]

★ kisses as payment ; remus lupin.

info: fluff, remus lupin x gn!reader, less than 1k.

two mugs sit atop the coffee table, completely forgotten as the last bits of steam roll off the lip's edge. the window is up, air fluttering past lace curtains and chilling you along with your tea.

"how's your book, dove?" remus asks, hand gliding along your shoulder as he allows himself to bask in not only your presence, but the soft texture of your (his) band tee that has him keening like a kitten.

"'s good, rem. want me to read to you?" voice soft, barely above a whisper as you run a gentle hand through his coffee hued curls with an absentminded touch. he hums in response, crawling between your legs before lifting the hem of your shirt up slightly to press a small kiss to your hip, a silent agreement as he plops all his weight atop you.

it was almost impressive how easily remus melts into you. his body nestled between your thighs with lanky arms wrapped around your hips to keep you pinned under his weight. now he definitely knows that you can't leave, not like you would ever choose to.

you giggle, reading the next three chapters with an honeyed tone, so full of life that it makes remus feel as if he's genuinely tagging along with the protagonist and their journey when his eyes close.

"love your voice, dovey..." he drawls sleepily.

it doesn't take long for a bookmark to find its way between the pages of your book, the paperback tossed to the side on the coffee table to match with the cups of tea you totally hadn't forgotten about as his voice slurs so sweetly in your ears.

"how about a nap?" you whisper, giggling as a ditzy grin graces his scarred lips. remus lifts up the bottom of your oversized shirt, tossing the fabric over his head before peppering kisses that start from your navel and past your belly button.

"hey!" you snicker, nails gently scratching at his bare back. "where'd you go?" you play along, head tilting back in hysterics as he blows a raspberry to the curve of your waist.

"stop, tha-that tickles!" voice a soft squeak as you choke on your laughter. remus attempts to lift his head and look at you but manages to get stuck between your shirt making a soft guffawing noise that gets intertwined with your own.

his nimble fingers rush to remove the shirt from his head, but not before delivering a fleeting kiss to any random patches of skin.

"you get all cute when you're sleepy," you whisper.

"i do not," he slurs softly, as if offended.

your eyes roll in response, "you never answered my question. you fancy a nap, hun?" you repeat. he takes your hand in his, interlocking your fingers before he plants a peck to your wrist.

"what are you doing?" you sigh out once his lips meets the nook of your elbow, kisses littering up your bicep without a single word to exchange. there's a moment of silence that lays over the two of you like a thick duvet, remus hums with another trail of wet kisses up your shoulder and neck.

"i think you deserve kisses for reading to me..." he smoothly replies before planting a fat kiss to your lips.

you snort out, hands tossed around in his curls. "you think you're so smooth..." you whisper softly.

"i am smooth, dove."

★ diwa's notes. hiii tysm for all the love you've shown my drabbles too <3

© hobietopia 2024.

[rinachains]

wc: 1.3k

contents: drabble; toji x gn!reader; suggestive, minor angst, fluff; mentions of (child) abuse; mdni

a/n: soft toji was on my mind, so i wrote this little thing; divider credits: @cafekitsune

Gentleness was a foreign concept to Toji.

He knew shoves, slaps, blows, cuts, tugs, bites - he was an assassin after all, the Sorcerer Killer, ruthless, brutal and merciless. Someone who would entertain different women if it promised him shelter and some sort of security, their pleasure becoming his until he could no longer distinguish between them. He learned to not think about it too much.

Toji could barely remember a time in which his body was free from scars, unblemished and soft to the touch. Perhaps he was born with them, like a birthmark. Destined to stay on his skin.

His entire life he believed that roughness was what he wanted, that it was simply a part of him. He knew nothing else, so he continued to seek it out, even after he left that godforsaken clan. But as he lied next to you, sharing the same bed, he wondered if he was actually born with the roughness inside him, or if he was forced to take it, shoved into his face until it melted into his head and stayed there like a parasite that feeds off him.

The high from the gambling, the money he spent mindlessly to compensate for all the years of having nothing, the sex he had to fill the strange emptiness inside him that he hadn't yet recognized and addressed - it was intoxicating, addictive, and the crash after the high was too abrupt and harsh, leaving him in a numb, disoriented state every time. But what he had with you - he didn't want it to be something temporary, Toji realized. He didn't want it to be something that would fizzle out; he wanted it to grow stronger, to become the most important aspect of his new life.

His scars never bothered him too much, he simply accepted them because he had neither the time nor the energy to be insecure. He was the picture of a confident man, brimming with cockiness. However, he couldn’t help but become too aware of them once you joined his side. His wounds may have healed, but the scars had never completely disappeared, an everlasting reminder of his past.

Toji remembered the first time he took off his shirt in front of you, exposed, involuntarily remembering the first and only time he felt true fear; when he was pushed into a dark pit by the hand of someone who shared his blood, completely lost and overwhelmed, not realizing what was going on until he felt the first blows of the invisible monsters on his small body. But he quickly got used to it, he had to in order to survive. He did the same with his job and with those women - he adapted to them and risked losing himself in the process.

Before Toji showed himself to you, he imagined you staring at him with disgust and aversion dancing in your eyes; but you held an unreadable expression, one of your hands carefully tracing the healed skin of his scars, following them as if they were constellations shining brightly in the dark sky.

You were gentle and just so patient with him, and he wondered if he would eventually get used to the softness, if it might even replace the roughness he was too familiar with.

As the two of you were lying in your bed together this early morning, the sheets rustling beneath your bodies, with a few millimeters preventing your lips from meeting, he watched as your hands reached up and your face drew closer. Instinctively, his eyebrows drew together, his muscles tensed and he felt the scar on his lip prickle, an uncomfortable itch. He waited for a scratch, a tug or a bite, something rough, something that would hurt, but all he felt was the soft plush of your lips on the scar on his own lip. The itch disappeared. His bare chest caressed by your smaller hands, free of anything harsh.

Toji had to resist the urge to hide his face in the pillow, suddenly feeling awfully coy. Goosebumps decorated his skin and it was a surprisingly pleasant feeling when a shiver ran down his spine, his dark eyelashes fluttered and his breath hitched.

He lowered his head then, removing his mouth from yours, and he breathed in your comforting scent, rubbed the pointed tip of his nose along your delicate neck and the space where it met your shoulder, not caring how needy he must appear.

“God, you smell so good.”

He nibbled at your collarbone next, carefully, relishing every single sound that left your mouth. They played like a record in his ears, over and over again. He didn’t think he could ever get enough of them, of you.

“Your hair’s getting longer again”, you muttered breathlessly, bringing a hand up to run it through his soft strands. Toji immediately leaned into your touch.

“Mhm, should I cut it?”, he asked in a muffled voice, head still buried in your neck as he continued to press ticklish kisses on your exposed skin there.

“N-no I like it”, you managed to respond, holding back a whine as you squirmed slightly. “You look pretty like this.”

You could feel his lips stretch into a smile against your neck, the amused huff he let out hitting your heated flesh.

“S’that so?” He looked up to meet your eyes again, his pupils so dilated that you could barely make out the green of his irises, cheeks tinted the most beautiful rosy shade, and shaggy hair slightly tousled, making him appear younger. Your heart fluttered at the vulnerable sight, tongue darting out to lick your lips, and his gaze dropped down for a second to follow its movement keenly. “I don’t think I’m supposed to look pretty, though.”

It's strange, he thought, how a man like him found himself in a situation like this. It shouldn’t, couldn’t, be right, he hadn't atoned for his sins, he hadn't done anything to deserve this, not after all the mess he had caused; and yet, while he was here with you, he couldn't find it in himself to care, blood rushing in his head and clouding his mind with feelings he had never experienced before. Toji now understood what people meant when they claimed that doing these things with someone you loved was a very different experience.

“Hm, but you are the prettiest to me”, you teased him, albeit with a certain sincerity in your playful tone. Your hand then wandered from his hair down to his nape, fingertips barely grazing his exposed, sensitive skin, slowly drawing circles.

Toji hissed at your ghostly touch and quickly took your wrist in his big, calloused hand. He was cautious, of course, his fingers not applying any serious pressure. “Touch me properly or I’ll die if you continue this.”

You raised a brow, amusement contouring your face, and tilted your head. “That’s quite dramatic, don’t you think?”

Toji only huffed, bringing your hand up to his lips to press a feather-light kiss on your knuckles, the casualty with which he did it burning the tips of your ears. “I don’t think you understand how you make me feel.”

“How do I make you feel?”, you asked quietly, peering at him through your lashes. You didn't believe you'd ever get used to the fact that he managed to render you bashful so easily.

He leaned down, still holding your hand in his, as his lips now brushed the shell of your ear, and whispered, his low voice like a hypnotic spell captivating you, “Let me show you.”

[keferon]

Ok i said i would do itater, but this was done for my sister who got really hurt and wanted comfort out of my drabble, shout out to you @saltynsassy31 XD

This will probably be very OOC bc again, i am NOT too acquainted with these characters

So apologies in advance, but i think this will still be very entertaining for you :]

So yeah, here's part 2!

---

Jazz was tired, they haven't given him much time to rest since he came back. And even if they did, it's not like he could rest anyways, thinking about....about Prowl.

No way he could have just left him, right? After everything....it just didn't feel right, and the way they spoke to him about it too. Call him crazy but something in his gut told him they were hiding something from him. But it just never seemed enough to push him to look into it (oh how he would regret that for the rest of his life)

Today was supposed to be a normal routine check to the new mechas, with new recruits coming in for him to teach.

Jazz was given a new mecha suit, despite his protests to it (which surprised even him honestly, but it just didn't feel right). He hadn't gotten the chance to see it yet, today was the day they would present the new model, though it was said to be in its early stages still.

...

He doesn't know how it happened, how he'd gotten here, but all he knew was that he had seen red. When he gotten to see his new mech suit, it seemed oddly familiar in touch, in fact something about it made him feel sick to his stomach.

Small dents and scarring coated the plating around the panels that opened to the cockpit. He recognised that plating, from crawling on it with his magnets, sleeping on them comfortably despite being made of metal (there was something so warm about it, but that warmth was....lost. He wanted to puke). But what broke the string holding him together, a scar, a scar so familiar it sent him back to the exact moment he witnessed his partner getting it in the first place.

Jazz had weilded that shut himself, they had gotten in a bad scuffle a while back, and with worry he wanted to try and make sure Prowl wouldn't be in too much pain before they could get some proper help.

"Jazz?" Someone called out to him. That was the last thing he remembered.

Now? Now he stood by the halls in which they didn't allow the likes of him inside, the halls in which the scientists worked on. He made a fast dash to the last room, the room one of the scientists told him had the one he was looking for (though he wasn't proud to admit he had perhaps aggressively gotten that answer out of the poor guy). He had a weird unknown blaster weapon with him that he had ripped from the mech suit he was supposed to try out (deep down, he hoped that weapon didn't belong to Prowl. He hoped that he wasn't too late), using that, he blasted the door open hoping that would keep anyone from stopping him from getting inside.

As soon as Jazz layed his eyes on the scene before him; his partner hanging from wires holding him into place, chain keeping him from leaving, mutilated almost beyong recognition save his face, and with a small weak staticked cry from his partner, "Jazz?" the small bit of awarness he had gained back was gone again. All he could do in that moment was to yell, a desperate cry that came from the pits of his lungs.

"GET AWAY FROM MY PARTNER!"

And in another flurry of motions he didn’t have complete control over, he was beating the ever living hell out of the prick who decided it was a good idea to mess with HIS partner! He didn’t even know how long he had been at it until the twisted man he called a boss scratched his face, small bits of blood flowing out. In shock and pain, he grabbed the man by the neck of his shirt and threw him to the otherside of the room. Once he was certain that he wouldn't be getting up again, he turned to face Prowl once more, running and calling out to him as he ran to scoop up his beloved's face, blurting out a mess of an apology.

"I'm so sorry, i shouldn't have brought you here- we, we need to get you out-"

Oh did the guilt eat him up from the inside, he- he shouldn't have brought him here. Prowl probably hated him right now, but the sudden distant bell of an alarm down the halls had him scrambling to his feet to try and make things right.

Suddenly, as adrenaline slowly faded off, he realised how much damage he had actually taken throughout his rampage, a limp on his left leg catching up to him. Stinging pain on his face and limbs, but he needed to keep moving, they weren't safe yet.

"I have to get you to a safe place," he mumbled, mostly to himself, "and- and then maybe call for help. Oh but who could i even go to?" As he spoke, he started to set Prowl's limbs free from it's chains, gods they were so damaged, he could barely look at the missing parts. But as he worked his way through, he let out small sighs of relief to see that at least, he seemed to not be missing some vital parts. He could still maybe make a run for it, if only he could stall the facility long enough-

"You really shouldn't have...."

Jazz turned in shock, Prowl's voice snapping him out of his panicked haze.

"Prowl..." if he wasn’t crying already, now he certainly was. Gods he fucked up badly.

Not having the courage to face the other just yet, he turned back to the chained leg he had been working on. Prowl didn't seem to have wanted an answer either way, sitting up as he watched the organic do his work (Jazz tried to ignore the missing arm).

As he finished getting rid of the chain, he got up again, letting out a hiss of pain from his injuries (which did not go unnoticed by the mech). Clutching his left side as a bleeding cut let out a terrible stinging sensation which he doesn't think he'll ever get used to, he walked over to the final limb stuck under chains. As he walked over, he briefed over the quick plan he thought of

"Look, i- i know you might not trust me right now-" a huff, almost soundling like a disbeliefing chuckle, was heard from the mech, Jazz ignored it. "But there is a place you can go to and hide, hide- hide until maybe i can get help or- or find a way to send you back-"

"You wouldn't make it that far." Prowl spoke, matter of factly, which got a hit under Jazz's skin

"I know that! Which is why you will make a run for it. There's an exit by the other side of this room where you can leave-"

A sudden realisation hit Prowl. Jazz wasn't planning on coming with him.

And the human nodded, seeming to understand that Prowl finally got what he was saying. As he reached the last final screw to Prowl's chains, he finished off what he was trying to say "I'll keep them busy long enough for you to leave," before he could finish, as the final screw was let lose and Prowl was free to move, he felt himself be lift up from the ground and let out a startled yelp. "Wha- HEY!"

It took Jazz being shoved inside Prowl's cockpit for him to realise that he had been picked up by the mech (maybe a possible concussion he thought to himself). Jazz couldn't even try to jump out as, despite it missing the plating to shut him inside, Prowl placed his servo up to close to exit.

Desperately and confused, Jazz called out, "What are you doing?!"

To be entirely honest, Prowl wasn't sure himself, he was just as confused as the human to his actions, usually so full of logic. This one was acted apon pure emotion. Emotion of fear, anxiety, anger but most importantly

Desperation

Because somehow, this stupid human had his spark between his fingers, and he'd be dammed if he let him get himself killed just for him.

This isn't how he would want to say goodbye

---

Thanks again, to my sister who pushed me to write this, and also helped out in some parts!

Might have done more if i could, but it's super late rn lol (it's 4am and our mon will kills us for staying up this late).

Again sorry for any OOC moments, but i hope this was to your enjoyment! Maybe i can do a part 3 to this, but idk enough about how things work to do that, so i let anyone be free to mess around with this :]

Oh my... oh fuck I can't. I just keep thinking about Prowl pressing his palm on his chest even when other humans eventually get to him and start shooting. He's a mess, half of his armor is missing he's probably leaving an energon trail behind him. But he knows that while it would take a lot of bullets to take him down, it would take only one lucky bullet to kill Jazz. I'm. AUGh

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

Ghost x Wife!Reader

Ghost comes homes to his wife after a bad day at work.

SFW, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Fluff, Big on the comfort part, Ghost is sad, Reader is supportive, Romance, Pre-established Relationship, Kissing, Cuddling, Intimacy, Scarcely Proofread, Drabble

WC: 900~

I feel like I'm always writing Ghost x Readers where they're not "together" together, so this is just a little drabble to scratch an itch I had and dust off my fluff skills for a different WIP 😏 (lightly inspired by my chat.ai, Ghost is in LOVE with me over there lol)

Masterlist

Simon hadn't been sure what drove him to do so, only that his body moved faster than his mind could keep up with.

He enters the living room, the place having been tidied up since this morning. The evening lighting warmed him like a welcome hello, only to become a sauna once his eyes searched the room, having found you where he last saw you on the couch, tucked away in another one of your books.

You haven't noticed him until you've seen his shadow in the archway, your smile lighting a beacon on him.

"You're home early!"

You say it with such excitement and splendor, as though there had been any doubt that he wouldn't find his way back to you, one way or another.

However, that joy takes shape into concern after turning to face him, noticing that sunken look in his eyes, as he takes his slow steps towards you. "Is everything OK-"

Simon comes down onto the couch before he's let himself slowly sink into your arms, having longed for your embrace. Your touch which felt like a drug. The weight of his body pushes you back against the couch, as you've felt his strong arms snake their way across your small frame, squeezing a tiny moan from you in his torn embrace. He hadn't even removed his gear yet.

The fabric of his mask rubs roughly against your chin. His head buried into the crook of your neck, his shut lashes feathering against your skin, as his breaths come out shaky and broken. A frail sight to behold for such a man of his size and stature.

He's silent, his eyes turned away. Just wanting to be held.

Simon felt ashamed to say he cherished your touch after a bad day at work. It made him feel fragile. However, he's found that nothing mends the negativity wanting to stir in him like the sensation of someone he knew would give nothing more than to soothe those thoughts away.

He needn't say any words. You understood through his silence the love he yearned from you. Slowly, you showed him that there had been no shame in his own vulnerability.

You gently hug his head against your chest, feeling him sigh against you and his body still, broad shoulders slouching. Your fingers trace the edges of his mask pulling the fabric away, until your eyes have met the face of the man you've fallen in love with all those years ago.

It had been a hidden pleasure, having been able to fall in love with him all over again, each time you saw him.

The first thing you catch is the exhaustion in his tired, olive eyes, behind the light tussle of his short, blond hair and freshly grown stubble, struggling to break way beneath all the little marks and scars he's accumulated over the years.

He could never get used to the way your eyes took in every detail of him. How they picked him apart without ever meaning to. Every now and again, he feared you'd see him one day and suddenly realize how much better you could do without having him bog you down. Even now, it lingers in the back of his mind on his worst days. He just couldn't get used to how that hadn't happened yet.

And yet, he wanted to get used to it, and he knew that someday he would.

You let your hands gently guide his head back to your chest, combing your fingers through his hair.

Simon listens to the steady rhythm of your heart as you do, his eyes half-lidded in thought.

It's not until he's felt your lips press gently to his temple that you've listened to the broken sigh that struggle to leave him. He lifts himself up from your arms, his hands still resting against your forearms. His gaze bounces between you and his lap, heart thumping.

"I'm sorry..." he says.

You smile, raising a hand so you could rest it against his cheek. The second he's felt your skin against him, he's let his head nuzzle lightly into your palm rather innocently. It makes you chuckle.

"Don't apologize, Si'," you let your thumb caress his cheek, slowly leaning back in towards the man. "I'm just happy you're home."

Simon lifts his hand up, large fingers over encompassing the small framing of your own. He pressed your hand against his cheek firmly, before shifting his head to plant a small kiss on your wrist.

"I love you," he whispers into your skin, his voice strained and defeated, as though the thought of losing you had brought the fear of God back to him.

You lean in, pressing light kisses against his face, which brushed against his cheek, and then his other, and then the tip of his nose, his warm, shaky breaths feathering you at each touch, until he couldn't wait any longer, letting his hand take hold of your chin, so that he may capture your lips with his.

He kisses you slowly, detailing every sensation of your lips pressed to his. His kisses remain gentle to start, having just wanted to be near you, as his hands cupped around your face, letting him deepen the kiss.

Before long, you've felt your back pressing against the couch, his body weight having blanketed over you like a prism. Once laid back like this, Simon can't help but feel hungry for you, having you all to himself like this, trying to recapture the morning's warmth he'd left you before now.

Dividers from cute-sushi-roll

[fishsticksloser]

Since we have sfw mating season turtle's, what about a nsfw one?

HEAR ME OUT-

(Feel free to ignore if your uncomfortable or your too busy to do it)

Mating Season Pt2

Future RotTMNT x gn!reader

Warnings: smut ish, fluff, feral turtles, talk about rough sex, talk about biting/marking, wounds mentioned

A/N: I'm not gonna write small little drabbles, but I will go more in depth

Donnie

He still had precautions

But you insisted on helping him

Who was he to say no?

He went through everything his species does during mating season

He explains that you will have to be under water for an extended period of time

That he can bite and scratch

Donnie really really wants to make sure you're okay with everything that might happen

This is a huge step in your relationship

It doesn't matter how long you've been together, Donnie would never ask you to be with him during this time

You can tell it's starting because he gets more affectionate

Normally kissing your neck more

He talks about the way you smell

But when the time comes, you're there with him

He made sure there were things for you to do, things for your safety

Like oxygen for you when you're underwater

He made a really big nest for you

When you see it, he grins like a little kid

He made it for you after all

If you don't show that you like it, he'll tear it apart and restart

Donnie bites a lot

He does accidently scratch you a bit, but that was just because he was trying to hold on

He's also fiercely protective

He growls and snaps at literally anything

When he sleeps, he's wrapped around you, not allowing you to leave

You're his

When mating season is over Donnie is affectionate

He feels so bad for biting and scratching you

Being rougher than normal

He'll try to convince you not to join him again

Leo

Obviously there were still precautions

Can't have the boss going feral now can we?

Leo tried not to show when it's coming on, opting to remove you from the situation completely

But it doesn't work, he needs you too bad

Leo gets overly touchy

He taps your butt, your hips, your chest, your neck, your face

He whispers in your ears about how good you look, how you smell, how soft your skin is

The few nights before his rut actually starts, he's goes at it with everything he has

He mumbles about how pretty you are under/on top of him

But he keeps it passionate, not rough

When his rut actually starts it's a different story

He's loud

Moaning, whimpering, and... yes, talking

Leo is rough, but tries to make it pleasurable for you too

He's still a talker even when not in the middle of coitus

The tapping becomes a bit harder, more consistent

Mostly tapping your face, hips, and butt

He still whispers in your ears, but its more about what he wants to do to you, how pretty you look while he takes you

Leo bites a little, he still has some control of himself

If he feels like he's going to bite, he'll find something else to bite

The nest he builds is relatively small, but so comfy since he's allowed to have pillows and bulky blankets

When it's over, you better believe this man is worshipping your body

He'll cover any bite or scratch in kisses, making sure you feel loved beyond measure

Mikey

Since he's gotten older, it's gotten a bit worse

He's still pretty normal, but he can get territorial

Someone touches you (even by accident) or is talking to you?

You might wanna take him back to your room

He gets hot, literally since his ninpo is fire based

Mikey acts pretty normal until something happens to you (like stated above)

It's best if people stay away from you, especially his brothers

Leo has had a scar on his right arm (cause that's his prosthetic now) from Mikey attacking him after he helped you with something

Why specifically his brothers?

Because they're turtles too and they're too much like him so what if they try to steal you

That's Donnie's theory at least

The nest he builds is comfy and warm

He really likes having you in it all the time so it stays warm

He'll crawl in and snuggle with you, letting our tiny chuffs

He's not a biter at all during rut

Mikey does scratch a little, but its more when he's trying to hold on

He still has a lot of control, so he tends to be very loving and passionate

But on his bad days, he's slightly worse than Leo

He defiantly still talks, overall he's almost completely normal except for the territorial and protective aspect

Afterwards, he almost cries

No... He does cry over what he's done to you

He really needs reassurance that you're okay

Mikey will give you lots of cuddles and kisses a little while after they heal

Raph

He gets a bit like this

He also gets worse as he grows

Whereas when he was younger, he was pretty chill

Raph gets more territorial

People steer clear of both of you because of how big and scary Raph is

He tends to become a bit mindless, focusing on only you

He sniffs and nuzzles you, chuffing loudly

If anyone so much as looks at you, he growls and pulls you into him

His next is huge to fit his large body

When you see it, he pulls you into the nest, wanting to make sure you like it

It's not as bulky and soft as Leo or Mikey's but not as thin as Donnie's

He is a chaser, he will run after you

It's part of his species mating rituals

Though he does go slower than necessary due to how fast he is

Raph is a biter

The first few times, he bit you hard leaving a scar

Now he tries to get old tires, something else so he doesn't hurt you

He also scratches, trying to keep you close

When it's over, Raph will cry and apologize while he takes care of your wounds

He feels so bad

Like Donnie, he will also try to convince you not to join him again

[summer-of-bad-batch]

SUMMER OF BAD BATCH 2024 HAS COME TO AN END…TUNE IN NEXT YEAR FOR SUMMER OF BAD BATCH 2025!!

2024 Participants, Completionists & Overachievers!

SUMMER OF BAD BATCH 2024: POST CREDITS (Ao3 Collection)

EVENT BADGES

PARTICIPANT FORM

☀️GENERAL INFORMATION BELOW THE CUT☀️

Bad Batch Would You Rather Game Suggestions

FREE EVENT BANNERS AND DIVIDERS

Summer of Bad Batch 2024 Prompt List

***Fill prompts all summer! No deadlines! See below cut for more details 😎***

200 Followers Celebration Bonus Prompt:

Bonus Alternate Prompt: "Can you braid my hair?"

300 Followers Celebration Bonus Prompt:

Bonus Alternate Prompt: Light in the Darkness

Week 1

Main Prompt: Water Gun Fight

Alt. Prompt: “It’s not what you think.”

Week 2

Main Prompt: Injured

Alt. Prompt: Comfort Zone

Week 3

Main Prompt: “It’s just a scratch.”

Alt. Prompt: “Forget I asked.”

Week 4

Main Prompt: Cadets

Alt. Prompt: "You really think you're going without me? Not going to happen."

Week 5

Main Prompt: “You’re a bad liar.”

Alt. Prompt: “Need a hand?”

Week 6

Main Prompt: Battle Scars

Alt. Prompt: “Get out of my room!”

Week 7

Main Prompt: “Don’t avoid the question.”

Alt. Prompt: Getting a Haircut

Week 8

Main Prompt: Swimming Lessons

Alt. Prompt: Lula

Week of 9

Main Prompt: “Hold still.”

Alt. Prompt: Stargazing

Week 10

Main Prompt: Hugs

Alt. Prompt: “Just when were you planning on telling us that?”

Week 11

Main Prompt: “I didn’t think I would get this far.”

Alt. Prompt: “Yeah, kid, we’re fine.”

Week 12

Main Prompt: Nightmares

Alt. Prompt: Radio Silence

Week 13

Main Prompt: “Stop touching me!” // “I’m not touching you!”

Alt. Prompt: Crashing Hard

🥳🥳That’s the end of the Summer of Bad Batch 2024 prompt list…feel free to use all prompts and tags forever and ever🥳🥳

You can find the Ao3 collection HERE!

And I know that sometimes, it can be a pain to figure out how to add to collections (please tell me I'm not the ONLY one who has struggled with this 😭), so here's a step by step!

STEP ONE: Post a New Work OR Edit an existing work.

STEP TWO: Under the Associations category, you’ll see “Post to Collections / Challenges”

STEP THREE: Type summerofbadbatch2024 (no spaces)

STEP FOUR: This is where it gets tricky...the collection may or may not auto populate. If it doesn't, that's okay. Just leave summerofbadbatch2024 in there as is, and save the post (you can even save it as a draft and see if it worked!) It should add it to the collection even if it didn't auto populate 🤓

Q: What is Summer of Bad Batch??

A: Summer of Bad Batch is a laidback, summer prompt challenge from June 1st-August 31st. Every Sunday (12am CST), a prompt and alternative prompt will be released to inspire creativity in the Star Wars: The Bad Batch fandom! By filling prompts by August 31st, you can qualify as a:

Participant (completed 1-12 prompts)

Completionist (completed 13+ prompts)

Overachiever (completed 13 main prompts + the 13 alternative prompts)

At the end of the challenge, there will be a form for participants to fill out to let me know what category of completion they fall into. A post will be made for each category giving a shoutout and (if you’d like) a link to your Master List of completed prompt fills.

Q: What can I do to fill a prompt?

A: Anything you want! Fanfic, fan art, drabbles, doodles, cartoons, poetry...the possibilities are endless! The only real criteria is that it has to be based on Star Wars: The Bad Batch.

Q: Will you reblog prompt fills?

A: Yes! However, since I am keeping this blog PG, I will only reblog prompt fills that fit within that criteria. Basically, if it could be in the literal show itself, it could be reblogged here ☺️

(That said, I won’t reblog any clone x clone content simply because it is one of my main squicks 😅)

Also, make sure you tag your prompt fills! That's the only way I'll be able to find them in the wide world of Tumblr! So, tag your prompt fills with #summerofbadbatch2024 so I (and anyone else who is looking for Summer of Bad Batch goodness!) can find your posts!

(And everything is welcome on the Ao3 Summer of Bad Batch 2024 Collection — so make sure to add to it if you’re on Ao3!)

Q: When will prompts be released?

A: Every Sunday (with the exception of Week 1, which will have a special release date of Saturday, June 1st) at 12am CST.

Q: What if I don’t understand a prompt?

A: Send me a message or an ask! I’d be happy to help!

Q: What if I don’t like the weekly prompt?

A: Every week will have an alternate prompt available! And alternate prompts can be swapped out for any main prompt, regardless of which week!

Q: Where can I post my prompt fills?

A: Anywhere you'd like! Personally, I'm only on Ao3 and Tumblr...but I know that this fandom is literally all over the internet, so wherever you feel comfortable posting, do it!!

Q: What if I don't finish filling the prompt within the week?

A: One of my favorite parts of this prompt challenge is that there are no deadlines! If you want to be a Completionist or an Overachiever, you just have to have the prompts complete by August 31st!

Finished week 2 during week 5? Great!

Finished weeks 1-13 during week 13?? 😅 That works!

Q: Do I have to post/publish my prompt fills to be considered a participant/completionist/overachiever?

A: Nope! I know not to everyone feels comfortable sharing their work, and that’s totally fine!

You don’t have to post/publish a single thing to qualify. At the end of the challenge, I’ll link a form for anyone who participated to fill out. This is all based on the honor system…so if you say you completed “such and such”…I’ll take your word for it 😊 If you want, you can still be given a shout out for whatever level of participation you said you completed. Just let me know!

Q: Can I combine prompts?

A: Yes! Mash up those prompts and make a custom, super prompt if your heart so desires!

Q: But can I combine prompts with other challenges?

A: Absolutely! If the other challenge allows it, feel free to combine Summer of Bad Batch as you see fit ✨

Q: Can I apply prompts to works I've already completed/posted?

A: Prompts should not be applied to already completed works.

But if you have a WIP that's been gathering dust that would fit the occasion, that would be fine!

Have a story that you're adding chapters to? You can apply prompts to new chapters! That's fine too!

Q: Will there be a complete prompt list available?

A: Not until after the event, since prompts will be posted weekly 😘

Q: Can I use the prompts even after the event has ended?

A: Absolutely!

You didn’t find your question here?? Send me an ask, I’d be happy to help!

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

5K! Wow, that's so incredible, and I'm so happy for you!!! Congratulations omg

I was wondering if I could request a drabble of Mr Soap MacTavish (2022) where the reader is fixing up his wounds, and he's just staring at the reader with the biggest heart eyes and that's when he says "I love you" for the first time???

—Heart-Eyes

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Being a medic wasn't pretty, but when your boyfriend was the subject under your needle you can't help but enjoy his unwavering gaze. Today, he has something to share with you.] ❞

You sigh and slip on your sterile gloves, hearing the snap of the latex as they conform to your flesh in all of their blue, tight glory. 

“I warned you they would pull,” your voice levels, exasperation making lines spring to life on your forehead and squiggle. “Do you ever listen to me?” 

“Always, Dearie.” The Scot behind you holds a rag to his head, blood dripping off the corner and slipping down his arm. On his square face, he holds a small smirk. “Now, what I didn’t expect was a madman rushin’ me as he did—didn’t mean to rip all of your stitches, but I was more worried about the knife two inches from my damn eye, if ya understand.” 

You fight down a smile, rolling your eyes before grabbing the handle of the utility cart and turning to face Johnny—raising a teasing brow in the process. 

“I’m fond of my sutures, MacTavish. I hope you know that I’m highly offended right now.” Lips twitching, the mohawked man tilts his head, leaning against the examination table still in gear and with his free hand situated at his neck; handing off his vest’s collar. 

“I’m sure there’s still at least one under here that’ll call to your expertise, Ma’am.”

“There better,” you mumble, fake glaring at your boyfriend of one year. He chuckles, reaching out a hand as you come near and drag your cart with you. 

As if it’s a chore, you sigh loudly and let him bring you into his arms. Your grip wraps around his waist and you sag into the wide frame and his natural warmth—Johnny’s hand spans your back, firm as his thumb lightly moves up and down. 

His sapphire blues soften as he stares down at you, stubble moving back in a smile. You rest your chin on his chest as he lightly presses the rag deeper into his forehead. 

“It’ll scar,” you say slowly. “Especially if it got even more damaged by the fall.” 

“Ah,” he whispers, breath hitting your head as your lashes flutter. Johnny’s chest grumbles with every word, accent deep and rich. “Think I’ll be just as handsome, then? That’s all that’s going to matter.”

You laugh at the exaggeration, lips peeling in a grin. “The most handsome, Johnny. It’s surprising that the entire world doesn’t stand still when you enter a room. Add in another face scar and people will faint when they come near.”

The Scot huffs, but a sheepish sheen splays over his cheeks, and a giddy smile grows when you call him handsome.

“Knew I wasn’t the only one that thought it.” Sharing a laugh, you pull back. The man pouts before you lightly hit his thigh with the back of your hand. 

“Hey!” Johnny grunts out. “Watch the arm, Hen, it’ll leave a mark—”

You kiss him with a grin, feeling the man start forward to meet you with no hesitation and sigh deeply, stubble scratching against your skin in the most delicious way possible. His arm grabs onto your hip and the rag at his flesh loosens—the blood drip-drip-dripping as his fingers dig into your scrubs. 

When his teeth nip your lip, you chuckle into his mouth and lean out of his hold to reach for your supplies. Johnny frowns in false disappointment but still yields to you when you carefully take away his soiled rag to stare at the damage. 

A bloody mess of open skin forms a head wound that makes your face dip with seriousness. Humming in your throat, you lightly touch the area as Johnny winces. You utter an apology and kiss his hand as it comes up to brush at your cheek, unable to be away from you.

“Hm,” the Scot doesn't notice his flinch when you numb the area, the needle digging into the thin skin. All he sees is you. 

“Bad?” He asks, letting you slant from in between his legs and grab the saline solution.

“Nothing you need to worry about, Big Guy.” Softly staring, you prep the area for sutures, oblivious to the pair of eyes that conform to a delicate roundness of tender affection. Like the contents of a great love poem of old, Johnny is distracted from the pain by your supple touch—breathing in your scent like a field of wildflowers as your body lay in his easy clutch. 

Humming a tune under your breath, you let Johnny’s arms encase you, not minding the left-over blood he spreads as your needle driver moves a sterilized needle through lightly tanned flesh. Tissue forceps grab and manipulate where you see fit, but your attention is solely focused on getting your Lover better. 

Johnny breathes deeply, barely feeling the pressure of the digging point. When you’re about halfway done, the man grunts out the easiest words he’s ever uttered to light.

“I love you, Little Lady.” Your eyes flash to a widened stare into his held skin, the needle poking out of his bloody mess of glistening redness. 

It was no trial to anyone to see how much you two loved each other—the entire base was aware of your relationship; the other nurses relentlessly teased you when the only help Johnny would accept was from you or your head doctor. And the Scot had said multiple times the only reason that the doctor was in his book was that, if the injury was beyond what you were allowed to work on, you’d be unable to help unless the individual was there. 

It was in the touches, the kisses filled with warmth and reverence—the way he looked at you. A blind man could notice it just by the way he talked about you on Leave if you weren’t able to join. 

“She’d like that.”

“My Hen would lose her head over this; let me get a picture.”

“Hell’s bells, wait a moment—need to buy this for my Dearie. She’ll put it to good use.”

And you, of course, leaned into him with equal worship whenever able. Reveled in his great weight at night as his head rested on your stomach, Johnny’s body between your legs and lips muttering into your flesh in a deep sleep on his chest. Arms so tight around you his biceps would gain size as if he was flexing and not just pressing you up into him.

But this was the first. 

The first confession. The first declaration of love. 

You don’t know why, but saying it made it feel so much more real. 

Your eyes slide to the side, looking into those deep blues with all of their loveliness; their hues and flecks of stars trapped like ocean waves dancing in moonlight. Wisps of stories you’d yet to uncover. Blinking, your expression evens out as the minute stretches—that look on the man’s face still staying. 

You chuckle softly. 

“Took you long enough, MacTavish.” 

A breathless kiss. A shuttered exhale. 

“...Then I’ll be sure to make you never doubt it.”

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @waves-against-a-cliff, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird , @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[kiradrabbles]

"fucked in both ways", ticci toby x athlete reader fuck or die drabble

this was requested on my a03!

cw: noncon, brief mention of sh scars!

kinks: outdoors sex, noncon, toby is dominant and rough, he degrades you a little, fear play, he chases you, that type beat.

In hindsight, taking a walk in the woods at night was a horrible idea, but at the time it felt like a good one, your arms and legs had been burning from training and what better than a relaxing evening walk to calm you down. After all, what could go wrong?

A lot. A lot could go wrong.

It all started off well, at least. The only sounds you could hear were the crunching of the autumn leaves under your feet, and the sound of the birds and wildlife chirping. It was nice, relaxing even. Always nice to get out of the city, to breathe fresh air.

Until you started to get paranoid. It's not hard, alone in the woods, to convince yourself something was going wrong. Odd cracking sounds that weren't from you, footsteps behind you, rustling and a quiet voice.

You were just being paranoid, you told yourself. It was just birds fluttering through the trees, a little later at night than usual. It was just the fauna, the deer, perhaps a rabbit. just your imagination running wild.

It was only when an axe came screaming towards your head that you re-evaluated, deciding there was, in fact, someone following you.

Somehow you managed to duck out of the way just before it thudded into the tree a few inches beside your head.

Before you even processed it you had set off running, legs moving faster than your thoughts.

You felt a hand grab you, yanking you back, coming face to face with a masked man. He looked to be wearing a mouthguard of sort, and a pair of scratched up orange goggles obscuring his eyes. His breath stank of iron as you both stayed silent for a second, both of you heavy breathing.

Untill you swung your leg back and kicked him in the shins, hard. And you knew damn well the kick would hurt, you were an athlete, having strong legs were your thing.

Nothing. No reaction. If anything the man squeezed your shoulder tighter, jerking his head and letting out a laugh.

"Nuh-nice try" He grinned under the mouthguard "Can't feel pain."

In the heat of the moment, you weren't sure how, you managed to pull yourself away, throwing his arm back at him. And you ran, oh how you ran.

You ran until you felt your legs shaking, ready to give out, blood burning as you took heaving breath after heaving breath. You collapsed and leant against a tree, throat dry as you took in gasps. Surely you had lost him.

You didn't know where you were, you couldn't risk calling for help.

"I'm fucked" You groaned under your breath.

"In more ways t-than one" That voice said, and suddenly, you were tackled to the ground.

You weren't sure where he'd come from, all you could focus on was trying to get up, thrashing and kicking at him. You couldn't tell if any of your feeble attempts at punches (your coach would be dissapointed) landed, even if they did it wasn't like he could feel them.

Finally you stopped as he shoved a knee between your legs, arms pinned over your head with both hands as he stared down at you.

His goggles had been pushed up, revealing a pair of deep brown eyes, that despite the eye bags, would almost be pretty if not for the rest of his face. A lot of his skin, especially on the left of his face looked scarred and rough, all convoluting on a massive gash on his cheek, going through to the gums and teeth. His hair was matted and looked like it hadn't been brushed in.. a while as he stared down at you.

"P-please don't hurt me?" You managed out after a few seconds of silence, fear overcoming your pride.

He was silent for a few seconds, before he laughed, neck jerking to the left. It didn't serve to make you feel much better.

"See, heres the - wow! - heres the thing!" He spoke "N-normally i'd kill you f-for trespassing on it's land, a-and make it slow too, suh-since you made it such a pain in the ass."

A few painfully slow seconds passed "…but?"

"You're pretty." He let go of one of your hands, staring at you as if daring you to move it, and ripping off one of his gloves with his mouth, spitting it onto the forest floor a few inches away from you. You finched, and he grinned wider, seeming to enjoy it as he cupped your face.

His hand was rough and callous, and you could see scars on his fingers, almost looking like bite marks along the tips, barely healed up. "A-and i've got a weakness for p-pretty girls. Never got them as a kid, i-i mean look at me" His neck jerked and he inturrupted himself with a laugh "I-i digress. W-what'll it be cutie, fuck, or die?"

"..fuck" You managed, deciding that it couldn't be worse than death.

He didn't even wait to hit you with an 'i told you so', slamming his body into yours, his lips - at least, the majority that was still there - into yours, teeth clashing, pushing his tongue into your mouth. He tasted like copper, and something else you couldn't place. You weren't sure if you wanted to know.

He didn't wait, either, to shove his hands under your shirt and squeeze your breasts roughly. And as much as you hated yourself for it, you moaned slightly into his mouth.

He grinned into the rough kiss, taking that as if it meant you enjoyed it, continuing to squeeze, moving one of his hands and squeezing your nipple as you whine into him.

"yuh-you want it, don't you?" He almost purred, goading you, breaking away from the kiss, a few strings of saliva still connecting your mouths.

You stare up at him, almost speechless. After a few seconds you manage to respond. "No-" panting slightly from the kiss.

"L-Liaar" He crowed smugly, removing one of his hands from your shirt, yanking your trousers down. You felt your skin prickle at the sudden cool air from the forest, suddenly exposed to the wind and his prying eyes. And they were prying, alright. The way he stared, you'd think he'd never had sex in his life.

He finally stopped staring as he did the same to your underwear, before pushing his index and middle finger right into your pussy, as you clenched at the sudden intrusion. Fuck, they slid right in. You were wet.

And you felt it, too, now that attention was brought to it. a shameful need in your cunt. The slick from your hole almost dripping onto his hand, down your thighs, onto the forest floor. fuck.

You almost whined as he removed his fingers from your cunt, feeling the emptiness. You clamped your mouth shut, not letting any noise out. You weren't supposed to be enjoying this. But despite yourself, you wanted It. You wanted this- this man who'd tacked you, who'd said he'd kill you. You wanted him to fuck your brains out.

You sat up a little, leaning on your elbows as he pulled back, watching as he struggled with the belt buckle, listening to the metal clink.

His cock was painfully hard, almost straining through his gray boxers as he pulled them down too, cock springing up, pre-cum dripping from the tip as he leant over you. His thighs were lined with scars and bruises, and you almost felt bad for him.

You didn't have long left to feel bad, however, as he positioned himself obove you, grinning wildly, a little saliva dribbling from his mouth. He pressed his tip against your hole, and you tensed up, preparing for him to enter you. but.. nothing.

You reopened your eyes, staring up at his smug grin, a little of his matted hair falling over his face.

"Tuh-tell me you want it"

You squirmed a little at the request, cheeks heating up in embarrasment at the thought, and he grabbed your arm, squeezing hard enough you were sure there would be fingerprint bruises tomorrow. He pressed you against the rocky ground.

"c'mon, you know you- you know you want it" He growls "Y-you wanna get fucked by a stranger like a fucking whore d-don't you. C-come on."

"Fine!" You gasp quietly, squirming a bit more, hips bucking up with the need for stimulation. "P-please? i want you to fuck me"

He did not wait to bottom out inside of you, shoving into you, his bony hips meeting yours.

"fuh-fuck" He groans, the sound of his hips stuttering against yours, a rhythmic slapping, echoes through the forest. God, you hoped no one was hiking….

He lowered himself over you leaning in for another kiss, his lips scraping yours. you found yourself kissing him back, moaning and rolling your hips against his, in time with his thrusts.

Your skin prickled with sweat as the two of you , arms wrapping round his shuddering body, digging into his back through his hoodie.

fuck, this was fucking insane. and hot.

His thrusts began to get irregular and disjointented as he started to pant, breaking your kiss, strands of saliva connecting the two of you still.

"S-Scheisse" He cursed quietly through the pants as he continued to thrust, hips juttering against you. "Sh-shit, i'm going to-"

And he came. You could feel it inside you, his hot speed spurting inside of you. The two of you stood - or, more accurately - laid there for a second and radiated in each others body heat.

He pulled out and it dripped down your legs, landing on the forest floor.

his neck jerked as he stared at you, eyes raking appreciatively over your body, cum dripping out of your pussy, bruses up your legs and breasts, shaking.

"Hm. i-i like you." He grins "i think i'm going to - birdie! - going to keep you."

[peanutbubba]

Surrender to Me (gn!reader x Doflamingo)

Doflamingo x Shirtless reader, gn!reader, it’s assumed reader is amab, Doffy wants reader bad, very suggestive, I mean it is Doffy, sadistic Doffy, Doffy and reader aren’t in a relationship, scratching and blood, drabble, 690 words

Regularly you wear shirts, all the time, much to Doflamingo’s dismay considering he wants to see your unclothed body all the time, but also very much to his pleasure because he doesn’t want anyone else to see you like that. The one time you didn’t wear a shirt however quite literally made Doflamingo absolutely feral, not that he wasn’t already, it just increased significantly.

You came back from a long and stressful mission, fatigue written all over your body. Your shirt noticeably missing, having gotten too torn during your mission so you just decided to discard it.

When Doflamingo had realized the fact that you were shirtless he couldn’t help the massive grin that spread on his face, licking his lips like the best meal ever had just been presented to him. Your supple looking skin shown off to the world, any tattoos or scars usually hidden by your shirt finally seeing the light of day.

Oh, how Doflamingo craved you. He needed and wanted to completely mark up your bare chest, he wanted to see his influence against your skin, so very badly. And he wasn’t afraid to voice it, not one to shy away from these types of things. The groan that leaves his lips guttural as he beckons, or more like demands you come over to him. A command so frightening and yet seducing coming from Doflamingo’s lips. Yet, you can’t help but listen, against all better judgment he still had control over you, he was your superior, as such you’d be willing to surrender every part of yourself to see him rise to the very top. Even if that meant giving your warm body to him instead of your pale corpse.

The looks that he gives you once you’re in front of him, his eyes usually hidden behind his glasses just being ever so slightly visible this time. His depraved and lustful look, eyes half lidded as he stares down at you, his hulking body both terrifying and gorgeous. Then without a second to waste he has his large hands on you, covering portion after portion of your naked chest, rubbing and scratching his blunt nails against your muscles. His eyes have half the mind to watch your face contort and shift, while the other half to watch his hands slowly mark every inch of what is rightfully his.

Perhaps you try to stifle a laugh, getting gently tickled by the pink feathers on Doflamingo’s coat, biting your lip into a cherry red. However it’s a harsh contrast to Doflamingo’s rough hands, another scratch right on your back making you open your mouth in a silent scream, or even making you bite your lip harder, blood dripping down your chin. Arching your back trying to get away from his hands, from him, and yet it only brings you closer, your bare chest rubbing his clothed one. His other arm encircling your waist as he traps you against him, a sick cackle coming from him because both of you know that he’s right where he wants you, both of you know you’re trapped between his fingers like a pretty bird held captive in a cage.

And once Doflamingo has you don’t think he’s ever letting go, you’re too good, too precious. Too much of everything, he’d be a fool to ever let you go. So he doubles down on his efforts, does everything to get your attention, to make you want to be with him as much as he wants to be with you. But don’t dare assume that hasn’t already claimed you, because with the way whenever you pass and people quickly avoid your gaze, or the tremble when they talk to you. You know, you know that Doflamingo has done something, he has made you his alone. It’s just a matter of time as when you accept that fact, and finally come crawling to him, sitting on his lap as if it was your throne.

Doflamingo has already been crazy over you for awhile, but finally when he sees something that he’s only seen in his dreams for so long, it’s what makes him crack.

—

I was laughing so hard making this, I don’t know what it is but I couldn’t take this seriously. Anyways, hope you enjoyed

Pea’s out!

[zombieplaygrounds]

CW: (i lowkey forgot to finish this ><), price x afab!f! reader drabble, smut, mdni, insecure! price?, slightly toxic relationships, internal cumshot, sex while crying, cigarettes.

Fuck. You were so pathetic at the mercy of Price. His gorgeous girl, easily accessible whore. He loved you, he fucked you like he hated you - of course. And there were those occasions you really did scare him, darling. He was a broken man that you had to pick up piece by piece only for him to shatter all over again with leave. Arrives home like a fucking horror movie, covered in injuries and freshly sprouting injuries. Loves it, that glimmer in your eyes and a slackened jaw.

You'd run up with glossy eyes - you looked like you really cared. And he almost believed it. But god forbid you loved and cared for this monster known as John Price. The shiny dangling dog tag sticking to your chest and dangling around with every movement. Gave you a copy because he "isn't sure you would get the original when he dies, love".

So cruel, really. The way he tugs you in all different directions, mentally claiming you into a stupid and gullible thing. All just to spend hours fucking you so rough and rapidly, making you cry from the overstimulation and searing hot pleasure in your core. Your cunt squeezing around his cock in desperate attempts to be bred, milk him of his spawn. All while he kissed the back of your neck, digging his teeth to leave pretty indents in your soft flesh.

You'd gasp out sharp huffs of air - pleads for mercy -you would beg, not due to his cruel words, or that arrogant smirk with his hand grasping at your neck with all the power in the world. But because of the intimacy and vulnerability he had chosen to give only you to see this passionate and rabid beast he was reduced to in your presence a made you cry those fat hot tears of love. Love so cruel it would gag you.

And of course, to the painful end of it all, your head was left spinning, vision blurred - and fuck, he had you huffing like a fucking mutt. He'd pull his cock out, admiring the webby strands of arousal and sperm that connected the two of you. Groaning just slightly as the angry head of his cock oozed with more greedy substance, directing itself back toward your seeping entrance. So tempting, but based on your pathetic little whines and trembling legs - you were spent. Mewling like a kitten when he grazed his finger tips curiously across your swollen, puffy folds.

"Fuckin' beautiful." Price whispered, licking the salty, delectable cream of your cunt. The noise and awful buzz of insecurity in his mind slowly fading away to nothing but an empty, soothing silence. Gave him a chance to enjoy his cigarette, all while gently combing his digits across your bare back. Already had Price memorized your blemishes, scars, stretch marks; all of it little pieces he clung to desperately - figments of your reality. That mixed in with the markings of his hands, his nails; rigid scratches on your hips...

Perfection.

Time would pass, what felt like hours was really minutes of him just admiring the messy work of art he had splurted between your thighs. Groaning a bit as he leaned back, resting his sore muscles. Sooner or later you'd crawl to bury yourself against his soft, muscular form.

[seniaasaysstuff]

Drunk confessions with Toji. toji fushiguro x fem!reader. (reupload; tumblr pls stop glitching)

Small drabble- you confess to toji while drunk.

“Are you drunk?” Toji questioned, looking amused. He crossed his arms around his chest. “Uhhhh no?” You responded with a cheeky wink.

“What are you doing here?” Toji asked, leaning against the wall. “I came here to confess!” You shouted with a goofy smile.

“Really?” He chuckled. “Yeah!” You eagerly nodded. “Okay go on then.” Toji smirked.

“Soo I like you! No wait, scratch that I love you? You're my ideal type and I am ready to get wifed up.” You slurred your words. “I love your scars. Oh! And the lip one.” You added.

You slammed your hands on the wall encasing him. A tiny drunk woman trying to cage a 5’9 muscley dude with scars and tattoos was such a sight to see.

You roughly grabbed his chin and pulled him into a kiss. Your other hand was tugging on his hair.

You pulled away leaving a string of saliva between you. You let your breath tickle his ear. “Did you like my confession?” you whisper-yelled.

Toji chuckled. “For a moment I thought ya weren't drunk.” You patted his cheek and turned around.

“Where’re you goin?” He asked. “I confessed so I am leaving now.” You smugly replied and wobbled your way towards the stairs.

“You idiot.” He cursed as he picked you up. You flailed around his arms as he brought you into his apartment.

“Yer so dumb.” He shook his head fondly. “I love you too.” You incoherently mumbled and fell asleep.

[buzzcutlip]

What You Can't Bury Give Away - NY!Carmen Carmen x Fem!Reader Explicit! 2257 words

A/N This was supposed to be a drabble - haha! I don't know what is it now. Have some sad NY!Carmy after he finds out Michael's died and how he deals with leaving NY (not in a great way but excuse his broken little soul). I know I said I wanted to write Copenhagen!Carmy, so that one's coming too eventually.

When you open the door for Carmen and see him after, like, three weeks, you almost flinch. He’s always looked tired and worn out—while also attractive and weirdly hot—but today he looks particularly bad. Dreadful. His eyes are red, the bags underneath them grayish. It’s obvious that he hasn’t washed his hair in days. He looks as tragic as you feel.

“Hi,” you say tentatively, unsure if he wants to address the reason why he’s here.

Carmy only nods, eyes trained on you, even as he takes his denim trucker jacket off. You hang it on the only free, wonky peg on the wall, feeling him follow your movements all the while. Undoubtedly, it makes you antsy and uncomfortable. You’re not used to guys’ attention. You’re not used to attention from guys you like at all.

When you turn around and find him staring, you sigh. The jumper he’s wearing hangs loosely on his body, the sleeves too long. The navy blue color highlights the paleness of his face, the hollow cheeks.

“When was the last time you ate?”

Carmy opens his mouth to say something smart, probably, but you’re faster: “Ate a proper meal,” you clarify, propping your hands on your hips. You’re trying to act stern, babying him a little without making him seem like a baby. It’s the last time you’re seeing him, probably.

“I dunno,” he admits quietly, impatiently. He thumbs his bottom lip, scratches his head. He’s all sorts of jittery energy turned into a human being. You don’t know him like this.

“I can cook some pasta,” you offer. The idea is absolutely disproportionate to the situation, you think hysterically, as you turn to walk to the kitchen cabinets. “I’m actually a pretty good cook, you know,” you say just to fill in the space, afraid of the silence that might provoke unwise happenings.

As you reach the pack of fusilli, you feel him stand directly behind you. You exhale sharply. Something unwise is already happening. Settling the pasta on the counter, you turn around.

“I—” but before you manage to get out a single word, Carmy’s mouth is on yours, and he’s kissing you. Of course, it doesn’t take much for you to reciprocate. You kiss him back, hands squeezing his biceps, enjoying the thickness and how strong his arms feel.

“Don’t you think this is a bad idea?” you say as Carmen crowds you against the kitchen counter.

“I don’t—think. I don’t want to think,” he stutters out, grabbing at your waist and squeezing.

“But we’re adults, Berzatto,” you stand your ground even though your hands find their way into Carmy’s hair without much thought, “and thinking about our actions is the annoying part of adulthood,” you explain, and when Carmen kisses your jaw, you feel your determination slipping.

You met Carmen a couple of months ago and saw each other like four times. Apparently, he works in a restaurant, and you know that people in hospitality have crazy work schedules and practically no free time. Or social life. Carmen is proof of all that—he doesn’t talk much, doesn’t ask many questions. There are silly tattoos on his hands and scars—some looking fresh and painful. You never confront him about them, never look too long.

He didn’t have to tell you that he’s leaving, you know. If he didn’t, he would just be another boy who disappeared from your life quietly. And you wouldn’t blame him. You’re not a particularly interesting person. Rather dull, some member of your immediate family would say.

“Have you been drinking?” you check as you dodge another kiss. Carmen doesn’t ask questions, but suddenly you do—way too many, you can see the annoyance on his face, as you shrug him off of you, reluctant.

Carmen looks at you, all serious. “I don’t drink.”

“I know. I’m just asking,” you shrug. “Trying to find out what’s gotten into you.”

Because the second time you were with him, on some well-hidden, tourist-less rooftop bar, you drinking bottled beer and him Coke, laying next to each other on loungers—you touched him casually a couple of times while talking shit about your office work and annoying colleagues and canteen coffee that tastes like burnt water. Those fleeting touches that can be easily excused. You were testing the waters. And Carmy didn’t budge. He even laughed when you told him “your hands are pretty large,” let you press your palms together to see the size difference that lit up a flame in your lower belly. Fuck, the lamest trick, and he ate it all up, clueless. He even walked you home after that. For twenty minutes, your stomach was in twists with anticipation. You even considered fucking without a condom because you knew you had none at home, and Carmy didn’t look like the type who would carry one in his wallet. However, when you arrived at your apartment building, Carmen said “goodnight,” waved at you awkwardly, and left, cigarette in hand. That’s how you know the attraction was one-sided.

It makes the current event even more weird.

“You know, I was trying to let you know I liked you,” you say nonchalantly, biting your lip. “I even did that thing with hands.”

“What thing with hands?”

“Where we measure our hands,” duh.

“Oh. I didn’t know it was a thing.”

You stare at him for a moment.

“It was basically an invitation to fuck me, Carmen.”

He stares, then squeezes your waist. “Oh yeah?”

‘Oh,’ you think. This sounds very much like another invitation, doesn’t it? And Carmy takes it, and this time, you let him.

“Oh my god, Carmy,” you gasp when he gets down on his knees for you, and you don’t have any idea that they only call him Carmy at home, that no one in New York ever calls him that. He freezes for a moment, but you don’t catch that, too lost in the idea of having him for yourself, finally.

He pulls down your baby blue sleeping shorts along with your panties, revealing tan lines—the stark contrast of the untouched, milky skin of your crotch and the darker shade of your legs. You worked hard for that stupid tan, taking a week off in March to go to Hawaii, splashing a disgusting amount of money on the vacation, desperate to get away from New York, from your office, to get some warmth. He should congratulate you on your efforts, really, being the first man to see you like this. You hate baking in the direct sun.

But Carm doesn’t say anything, just lowers down, getting hold of your hips, licking along the crease between your thigh and crotch. You’re not smooth down there. You haven’t shaved in a while, and the growing hairs must prickle his tongue. He doesn’t protest though, only grunts and licks more, then kisses your pussy, sucking the lips into his mouth, making loud, obscene noises. He’s desperate but very strategic.

His hands feel huge, cupping your pelvis, fingers digging into the flesh. You grip the countertop behind you to keep your balance as Carmen sticks two fingers into you unceremoniously. You yelp, shucking off your shorts and underwear jerkily all the way down. He helps you one-handed, looks up to check on you. You bite your lower lip to keep yourself from making more embarrassing noises, while Carmen throws the clothes somewhere behind himself and goes back to eating you out while fingerfucking you.

He is frantic but good, concentrating only on you. He stares up right into your eyes, not even blinking, as he sucks your clit. It should not be allowed, you think briefly, for sad, strange boys to make you feel this good, practically against your own volition. It’s always cold in your apartment, more so in the winter, but you’re on fire now.

Carmen’s still dressed in his clothes, and you’re wearing your t-shirt and an old, faded hoodie, white thick socks on your feet. Neither of you cares too much about it as you focus on each other. You dare to touch one of your hands to Carm’s wild curls, and he hums against you, getting ahold of your ankle without stopping what he’s doing with his clever mouth, propping it against his shoulder. He helps you adjust your stance, and you moan loudly as he reaches deeper into you with the changed position.

“Please,” you whisper, head tipped back in pleasure, holding onto the counter one-handed for dear life.

That’s when Carmen chooses to stop, and you look down at him sharply, half-mad with want, watching his wet mouth kiss your ankle just above where your sock ends, then higher up along the inside of your leg, the side of your knee. His eyes are closed and he seems lost in his head, holding your ankle steady on his shoulder and continuing up, up, up. It makes your chest ache for a fleeting moment. Then, out of nowhere, Carmen bares his teeth and sets them into the meat of your inner thigh. You yelp at the sharp pain, jumping up so your head connects with the cabinet behind you with a loud noise.

“Fuck!” you swear, thinking of literally kicking Carmen as your leg is conveniently positioned near his head.

“Careful,” he says instead of ‘sorry’, and bites you again. You inhale to shout something nastier, but then he presses his thumb to your clit and the pain, added to the pleasure, creates a mixture so delicious that your vision blacks out for a moment. Once it clears, you spot Carmy between your legs, his eyes glazed and fixed on what his thumb is doing to you, all frowny in concentration.

“You alright?” he asks as he feels your gaze on him. As you nod and add a breathless ‘yeah’, he bites you again, this time on your other thigh. You jerk every single time he does that, but not from the pain. No, you seek more friction with your pelvis, hoping to make him press his thumb down harder against you. Of course, Carmen, as smart as he is, catches on soon. The next time you lift your hips up, he simply pushes his fingers back into your dripping cunt again, and from then it’s a quick undoing for you. 

You ride Carmy’s fingers, chasing the pressure both inside and on your clit, enjoying the pleasure-pain his mouth is eliciting. Just before you come, you dare to look down, and the sight of bright bruises blooming red like peonies on your skin is what tips you over the edge.  

You barely manage to kiss him back as he stands up between your legs, disoriented and shaky from just orgasming. You’re clumsy with it—teeth clicking and lips landing off-center. Before you can properly catch your breath, Carmen’s turning you around so you face the tiled wall, pushing you against the counter, and this time you mind the cabinets above your head.  

“You did so good f’me,” Carmy says against your ear, sending violent shivers down your spine. His large hand cradles your jaw, and Carmy kisses behind your ear and down the side of your neck, holding your head tilted to have better access to your burning skin. He’s frantic, breathing raggedly, pulling the neck of your jumper to lick at the vertebrae protruding at your sensitive nape. 

Trying to take your arms out of the sleeves to get rid of the jumper is harder than you thought as you get distracted by Carm absolutely ignoring your efforts when he slips one of his rough palms under the clothes, up your tummy to your chest. 

“Can I—can I touch your tits?” he asks hoarsely while still holding your head in position. You consent and stop trying to help him out, dropping your head back to rest on his shoulder. 

Carmen fucks you like that, from behind, all desperate and urgent. The noises he makes are almost like quiet sobs, which alarm you slightly, but then you forget everything when you start feeling you might come again. You don’t, but as soon as Carmen feels he might, he slips out and you spin around to face him. 

Without any room for making this cute, you spit in your palm and grip his cock, all dark red and throbbing, while Carmen fists your jumper, holding you close and watching open-mouthed as you jerk him off. When he comes you’re almost sure he’s gonna bite through his bottom lip from how hard he’s biting on it. He lets you stroke him for long moments after that, even though he’s shaking all over, overstimulated. You love watching his tummy muscles jump every time you squeeze at the head, dragging more delicious, wrecked sounds out of him. 

Afterward, Carmen’s awfully flushed in the face, eyes glistening. He asks where the bathroom is and stays there for ten long minutes. Or so. You’re not timing it. You cook the stupid pasta, even though you’re lazy, and feed him. The atmosphere’s charged with something unspoken, and as much as you want to ask what his plans are after he leaves New York, you don’t. 

After the meal, Carm doesn’t linger. He puts his jacket on, pecks your cheek, and leaves without looking back.

Oh, so that was a pity fuck, you realize with much disdain when you’re lying in your bed. Only—you’re not sure who pitied whom there.

He will never know how much you cried that night.

[silent-stories]

EDDIE MUNSON MASTERLIST

Friends

You visit Eddie at the hospital after the demobats incident.

Not scary at all

Eddie is more cuddly than usual.

Meet my mom

Eddie wants to introduce you to his mom, so you go to the graveyard with him.

Part 1 , Part 2

Healing touch

Eddie was not used to a kind of touch that was not violent until he met you.

The bench in the wood

One night, after leaving a party you didn't really like, you go into the woods to clear your mind. You didn't expect to meet someone there.

Can't say no

Waking up with Eddie.

Stray

One night you hear a noise and go to check, finding your neighbor talking to stray cats.

Nightmares and scars

You wake up to Eddie having a nightmare, again.

Just a cake

You and Eddie try to cook.

What if

Ever since Eddie sat next to you on the picnic bench outside his trailer you've become friends and you've grown closer and closer but soon he realizes you'd be better off without Eddie 'the freak' Munson.

Late night talking

Late night talking with Eddie instead of sleeping.

Family

Wayne didn't trust you, until one night.

Love you from afar

Dustin convinces Eddie, who is always watching you from a distance, to talk to you.

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5 , Part 6 , Part 7 , Part 8 , Part 9 , Part 10 (epilogue)

Good morning

The soft way you wake Eddie in the morning is very different from the way his father used to.

Storms

Eddie is not scared of thunderstorms after what happened in the Upside Down. Not at all.

Don't let it go this time

Eddie is in the hospital after what happened in the Upside Down but no one will let you in his room, so you wait sitting on the floor in the hallway until Wayne lets you sneak in.

Between midnight and 3 a.m

Your dad would never approve of your relationship with Eddie, so you sneak out for a night walk in the woods with him.

Just thank you

When you can't sleep, you go out hoping to clear your head. Instead you meet Wayne who decides to thank you.

The girl at the Hideout

Eddie likes the girl at the Hideout, one night, he finally talks to her.

My Eddie

Eddie has to meet your parents and he really wants them like him. That's why, for the first time, he's trying to be someone he's not.

Bar fights

Eddie ended up in a fight again and as always, he comes to you.

Sweetheart

Three times Eddie called you "sweetheart"

After the Upside Down

Eddie can't sleep and you find out it's because he has to go back to school after his name was cleared.

Stuck

Your friends, like the whole school, don't like Eddie Munson. You, on the other hand, think you'd like to get to know him but that's probably never going to happen. Until you find yourself locked up with him in the school library.

Part 1 , Part 2

The locker

It's not the first time Eddie has found his locker smeared but it's the first time someone has cleaned it for him.

It's a date

You talk with Eddie before the final battle with Vecna.

The only good thing

After moving to Hawkins for a fresh start, you meet a boy with kind, brown eyes who will quickly become a friend and maybe something more. The only problem is: you took something that belongs to him by accident and now tou don't know what to do.

Part 1, Part 2

Just to have an excuse to talk

You drank too much at a party and Eddie drives you home.

Shattered bottles

Eddie's father didn't react well when Eddie accidentally dropped a bottle on the ground and years later, he still expects a violent reaction to an incident like this.

DRABBLES AND THOUGHTS

Sick

Insomnia

The best babysitter

Cuddles

Staying at the Munsons' trailer would include

Movie night

First meeting

Eddie being dramatic when you leave

Living in the trailer

Jealousy?

Spring cleaning

Braiding his hair

First time meeting Eddie

Listening to Eddie talk about the things he loves

Good people

Never have I ever...been in love

Freckles

Bats

His birthday

Stolen moments- a kitten scratching at the door wakes you and Eddie up

Vampires can't cry

Random drabble #1

I'm with the band

Out of the castle

Random rockstar!eddie

[teejaystumbles]

For the Monsterfucktober bingo square "orc" and the Sandtober day 6, "sigil". I also couldn't help but drabble some wild fantasy to explain this. (Below 👇or on AO3)

"Give me your sigil, sorcerer. It's the only way I'll get out of here alive. That's, if you want me to."

Dream stares at the orc, incredulous. "If I do that it will be permanent." Hob shrugs and gives him a grin. "I don't mind. I just hope it's not ugly, like the last one." Dream frowns. "The last one?" "Yeah, Burgess. Had to cut quite a bit of skin off to get rid of that, it was butt-ugly."

Dream stares at him with shock and horror. "You. Cut a sigil off?" The orc shrugs again and absently runs a hand over the shaved half of his head, scratching it. "Bastard thought he could control me like a beast. Taught him a lesson."

"But. Wearing a sigil, my sigil, will mean-" "That you can command me, I know. But I'm not so easy to control. If I don't want to." Hob winks cheekily at Dream. "These guys out there don't know that, though, so that's why it's the only way they are going to let me leave. You know that."

The young orc shifts awkwardly and looks down. "If you want to find your stone and your friend you need my help. I can't help you if I'm dead, Dream."

There are ways Dream could have Hob help him even in death but he doesn't say anything and refuses to think about the weird feeling he gets when he imagines the orc dead and lifeless... Instead he becons Hob closer after a minute and turns him so that he can lay his hand on his already scarred shoulder.

"This will hurt."

"I'm sure I've had worse. Do it."

Before Dream casts he hesitates again. "Hob. Do you know how a sigil works?"

"It's a spell, right? To control someone."

Dream shakes his head and his long hair brushes the orc's shoulder. "It's a spell of intent. It can be a curse, or a blessing...or a sign of ownership. It can be used. As a marriage bond."

Hob shudders and turns his face away so Dream can't see his expression. He gently strokes over the orc's scarred green skin, cataloguing almost invisible freckles. "It can be a cattle brand, meant to control. Or a sign of care. Meant to protect. I want you to be aware of that." Dream lists forward and places a kiss on Hob's neck. The orc shivers and lets out a small moan. "Dream..."

Before Hob can say more Dream grips his shoulders tightly and casts the spell.

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Drabble-A-Thon 2 Prompt #2

Pairing: Shigadabi

Rating: Mature

Prompt: From @dahvampire Tomura having a dom drop! No preference for the pov or what happened during the scene that leads him to drop. 

Contents: Mentions of sexual content, implied CNC and sadomasochism, dom drop, panic attack, self-harm (scratching)

He's crying because of you. The thought comes bitter as the threads of pleasure start to ebb away from his orgasm. He came, fucking into Dabi's hot body, his lover pinned on the bed beneath him. There's blood smeared over their sheets, across his skin, fresh bruises that he can't even see against the darker scars that twist Dabi's skin. He's pinned beneath him, hurting. Tomura has a hand wrapped around his wrists to keep them tight to the small of his back, and there is a hairline fracture of Decay spreading over one of his bones where he dropped his fifth finger to keep him in place when he tried to struggle underneath him. He tried to throw you off of him. He didn't want you, and you forced yourself on him anyway. 

Tomura's other hand is knotted in his hair, four fingers tight enough that his knuckles are even paler than they usually are. He had half-smothered him into the pillows to quiet his sobs and protests as he had forced his legs wide and buried himself into the hilt. Pinned his wrists and muffled his screams. You didn't leave him any way to signal. You raped him. You really are the monster that you always pretend to be. 

Sickness rolls through his gut and Tomura pulls his hands away from Dabi's body, pulls out of him, the evidence of his enjoyment leaking out of the other man's body. He had his fun, but he hurt his partner to do so. 

"Dabi--" His throat is thick and tight, forcing the word out feeling like it hurts as badly as he knows that his partner-- Not your partner, not anymore. You hurt him. He's going to leave you just like everyone else. He's always been so ready to cut and run, and you've just given him the perfect excuse-- "Fuck, Dabi, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he pulls away from him, moving all the way to the edge of the bed as he feels his panic swell through him in time with his sickness. Hurt him the same way he hurts everything else he loves. Can't hold onto anything without destroying it. It was always just a matter of time. He should have known. No matter how many rules you make, you'll never be anything more than a monster, Tenko. 

It's his father's voice saying that name in his head. His voice that puts the itch under his skin that he thought he was long rid of and that has his hands reaching for his own skin. He can feel Dabi's blood already sticky under his nails. He never thought he would have someone else. Never thought he would be allowed to love anything when he was told all his life to only cultivate his hate. Is it really any wonder why trying to show his love now only seems to be putting more steps in the process of  destroying the person he's decided to give it to? He has such a hard time breathing, a hard time processing anything outside of the itch that is screaming beneath his skin, that when Dabi touches his arm, he all but leaps from the bed, 

"Don't touch me!" He's not wearing his gloves. He's already hurt Dabi. If he touches him again, he'll crumble apart in his hands. It's the only thing that's keeping him from reaching out and trying so hard to hold onto him so he can't run away. He can't lose him like he's lost everyone else, but if he holds on, he'll be the one who breaks him completely. He can't do that either. 

"Wh-- Tomura? What's wrong?" Dabi's voice is a little shaky. Scared. He should be scared of him. You're a monster. They're both villains. They're both supposed to be monsters. He thought that's why this could work, but he never wants to be a monster to Dabi. But he hurts him for his own satisfaction. Convinces the other man that it's okay because he won't ever take it too far, but looking into bright blue eyes, lashes clumped with blood and streaks of it down his cheeks because he can't even cry without hurting, seeing the ring of teeth that are scabbed over one nipple, the staples torn from the seam curving around his hips, and the bruises that bloom between dark and light skin, Tomura knows that none of this was okay. It was just an excuse to keep him from feeling so terrible about the need inside of him to destroy. "What's going on, Duster?" His voice is a little more solid when he speaks again. A little more real, but that somehow only makes the agony itching beneath his skin worse. "Did I... do something wrong?" 

Tomura doesn't know if he should laugh or if he should kill him. Laughing when things hurt is so much easier than finding a way to let the scream that is sitting in his chest out. If he kills Dabi then he won't have those beautiful, earnest blue eyes looking up at him. He won't have to make him understand why this was so bad. He won't have to force him to see that he's a monster and he's not supposed to want to be with him. Dabi may be less obedient than his dog was, but the way he's looking at him now-- it would be better for everyone involved if he just killed him now before he had to watch that earnestness tarnish. At least then he could hang onto the memories of when his firefly was convinced he loved him back. 

But Dabi moves to the edge of the bed and reaches out for him without touching. "Tomura... what color are you?" 

He can't find enough breath for words, he just lets out a sharp, bitter laugh. He didn't let Dabi use colors. Didn't let him ask to stop. He should suffer the same-- It takes so much effort to take his hand from his neck, the skin across it screaming with the ache of his nails having broken skin, so he can snap his fingers.  

"Okay, can you sit back down, Tomu? I want to sit with you." He doesn't even know if he can move, can't even look at Dabi right now, but when the other man catches his arm, even though he said not to, his palms warm against his skin and Tomura starts to shiver. He is always cold. It normally doesn't bother him, but right now he thinks he might shake apart. Dabi's grip is stronger than he thinks it should be now that he's finished with his treatments. Only a few people can move him now if he doesn't want to go somewhere. But maybe he's weak. Maybe he does want to go to the edge of the bed. Maybe he wants Dabi to try and convince him that he's not a monster. Maybe he wants to pretend that he can hold onto this for just a little bit longer. 

"Here, come here, Duster." Dabi pulls him close, pulls him further up on the bed so he can lean against the pillows before he pulls Tomura close, carding his fingers gently through his hair as he holds his head against his chest. One of his hands moves to cat the one that's still scratches at his throat and Tomura manages to croak, 

"Don't," He can't pretend if he kills him. 

"Shh," Dabi takes his hand from his neck and traces his fingers over Tomura's palm. "You're not going to hurt me, baby." He brings his hand up to his face, could kill him so easily-- and presses a soft kiss to his palm before he cups it against his cheek. "I trust you, Tomura. I love you." 

That's what shatters him completely. 

He doesn't remember the last time he cried. 

///

It takes a long time for him to come out of the haze of his drop and when he does, Tomura feels exhausted, guilty, and terrified. He's always been the one in their relationship to hold them together, to make sure that they were doing alright. And when he sits up a little more and Dabi is looking at him... differently. He doesn't know how to not let that turn his stomach.

"I'm sorry,"

"Nothing to apologize for, Tomura," Dabi tells him, one hand still threaded through his hair. "Things have been a lot lately, I know that I'm asking for a lot from you too when we play this roughly." And there's a touch of his own apology on the words. "If it's too much sometimes, that's okay, Duster. We can do something else. You can tell me 'no'," and there is a flicker of hurt that goes through his expression now that cuts him to the core. "I thought that negotiations were supposed to go both ways." 

"They are." He manages to croak. "I'm sorry. I just-- I didn't think that it would be too much. I shouldn't have agreed if I thought there was even a chance of it." 

Dabi laces their fingers together, and he doesn't have to worry about his touch killing him anymore. Not now that he's finished with the doctor's treatments. But he held his hand before he could control his quirk too. Always trusted him with his life because he loves him more than that because Dabi is the kind of insane that matches his own. "What can I do to help you feel better?" Normally Dabi doesn't have to do anything during their aftercare. Tomura just likes to be close, that's usually enough for him. 

But not tonight. "I want to patch you up," he says. He always helps take care of the wounds he puts on Dabi's body, but he needs that tonight, and he thinks his firefly can see that. 

"Okay. Come on, you were so well-prepared," Dabi tries to soothe him as he shifts. "You already put out the first-aid kit, and you left out clean blankets for us. You can put me back together and then we can get clean and get cozy in bed. I might even let you spoil me and order the grunts to get us food even though it's three in the morning and sleep in for you if you hold me all night." 

Indulgences. Things that show him that Dabi wants to stay. That he trusts him to take care of him, not just to ruin him. That he isn't going to shatter if Tomura holds on too tight. 

When they go into the bathroom, Dabi has to put bandages on his neck too from how deeply he tore at his skin when the worst of the drop came on, and Tomura still feels sick and shaky when he sees how many bandages he has to use on Dabi. But his firefly presses in close to him and tells him how good it felt to get each one, how safe he'd been, how much he loves that he knows Tomura is so careful with him and never does anything that he doesn't want. It's still hard to breathe, but the tightness won't be so heavy forever. Dabi won't run away from him. He won't break him. He tells himself those things over and over again as they put each other back together again, using each like a fresh brick in the wall he builds around the terrors in his mind that want to tear free and destroy this. He won't let them. Not when it took so long to find this in the first place. 

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