#sin.writes

[dabis-loverboy]

Thinking about good old stepbro Dabi who bends his pretty little sister over the counter, not giving a shit about whether or not anyone overheard or saw what he was doing to her as he dropped to his knees and ate her out to make her scream around his pierced tongue

[dabis-loverboy]

Hello

Do you write smut?

Then can I have a dabi with reader who has a daddy kink (reader has it)

If you don't want to do it

Then maybe write fluff with dabi

Cry For Daddy, Doll

Warnings: nsfw, minors dni, daddy kink, dom/sub dynamic, dom Dabi, rough sex, dacryphilia, mean Dabi

Pairing: Dabi/Touya Todoroki x genderneutral reader

A/N: I definitely write nsfw! Also. Oof this kink is my biggest one with my favorite character hdbdjdndj

"Daddy!" You whined.

From above you, Dabi watched your face contort in pleasure. His cock throbbing inside of you, slamming every inch of his length into your hole. He chuckled, watching tears drip down your face from those pretty eyes of yours. Dabi loved watching you hiccup and sob as he fucked into your tight hole.

"Daddy, huh?" He teased.

Your face went red, brightening as you looked up at the extensively scarred man that was railing you. His thrusts were precise, slamming into that spot that felt so so good. You could lay there, moaning and panting. Especially at the sound of slapping that reverberated throughout the room, accompanying that sound was the faint sound of the desk you were laid on being moved ever so slightly due to how hard Dabi was fucking you. You whined in direct response to his teasing.

"You're my little whore now. Aren't you?" He growled, "So, cry for your Daddy, doll."

You gasped, feeling his palm press against your thigh, whining amd whimpering as his palm heated up. That curseded fire quirk of his and that curseded fire kink of yours. You only nodded, moaning and crying as he fucked you.

"Use your words, doll." Dabi grunted.

"Please Daddy! Fuck me! Fuck my hole!" You offered immediately.

One thing was for sure. Despite everything you had ever told Dabi, you'd be an onedient whore for Daddy in the end.

[sinoptics]

whumptober 2022 c!discduo edition

i'm doing 7 days for this whumptober, and im doing it all in one cohesive fic, which is a c!discduo modern au (ok, one of them's not in chronological order but the rest are!)

you can find the fic on ao3 here

here's a snippet of the first chapter :)

“Why are you doing this?” Tommy whispers. His nose is still bleeding. The blood drips onto his shirt.

“For fun.” Dream shrugs. “I think you’ll be fun.”

“You’re fucking sick.” Dream gives a non committal hum in reply. “Please. I - I won’t tell anyone. I’ll tell Sam I - tripped, or something. Just let me go.” Dream shoots him an amused look at that.

“You think I’m just going to let you go? I’m not going to get an opportunity like this again.” Tommy feels fucking nauseous. “Dead phone, Sam won’t be expecting you back for a while, it’s late enough that no one’s around… the stars really aligned for this one.”

[sinoptics]

I have a strong feeling you and I aren’t going to be friends by the end of today.

Etho sits in the remains of the BEST fort, knees curled up underneath his chin. It’s a risk, a stupid, stupid risk, he should be holed up with the other yellows and greens, but there’s a gaping hole in his chest that he doesn’t know how to fill. Scott has given him a look that seemed to ask “are you suicidal?” when he said he needed some space and left their hidey hole.

He thought… he thought it would be fine. Bdubs died, turned red, but it wasn’t the first time, and they’d been fine then. When Bdubs had died to the Wither, he’d known it was dangerous, to meet up, to bargain, but he knew without thinking he would try. It wasn’t even a question.

But he’d waited, and waited, and the only response he’d gotten was “BdoubleO100 was shot by Grian”. It was just after Lizzie’s death message. Bdubs had listened, he’d followed through on their deal, he was going to come back to Etho, and they’d both be yellow, and it would be terrifying and nerve-wracking but they’d be together, and that’s all that mattered. He’d done so much to keep the both of them alive, and now - now it was just him.

Just him, alone in the wreckage of the castle, that he, Bdubs, Skizz and Tango had made and lived in. Tango is… somewhere, but he’s a lost cause. He’s not like Bdubs. He knows Tango will put a sword through his heart the second he lets his guard down. That’s how it is, usually, on this server. Everyone could see how quickly the Southlands fell apart, how the Shadow Alliance was destroyed by betrayal.

But Bdubs had been different.

Not that it mattered, now. Etho’s not sure it ever mattered. They were all doomed to die in the end, even the winner of this whole shitshow. Maybe Bdubs was lucky to escape the paranoia, the sweat dripping down your neck at every turn, not sure if you can even trust your allies, with the Boogeyman curse haunting their every move.

It was a terrible curse, that one. A little itch at the back of your mind, not desperate, per se, but persistent, and an irritating sensation, more than pain could ever be. It would be easier to deal with, to ignore, if it was just pain, but the little omnipresent itch just drove you crazy with bloodlust until it was finally scratched, and then came the overwhelming relief. It made it hard to hold grudges, for Boogeyman kills. Definitely not impossible, but there was an understanding between the server members. A shared experience.

Etho knows he has to go back to the other greens. Knows it’s sensible, if he’s the one that gets the curse next, it’d be more pragmatic to turn on someone with lives to spare. Even the playing field a little.

But for tonight, he sits, curled up in the snowy debris, and lets himself grieve.

[sinoptics]

/dsmp /rp

Dream takes after the god who stole his face, in a lot of ways. In others, he could not be more different.

He calls you his pet, and it sounds like friend. You think he doesn’t really understand what friendship means, but that’s okay. You can show him.

He calls himself a god. You’re not stupid, you know it’s true. You know a little about godhood yourself, after all, but you know that he is a truegod. Far more powerful than anyone else you’ve met. It can be a little scary, but his ire is rarely directed at you, and he never stays angry for long. He’s not that scary, you don’t think.

He calls himself your friend, and you tease him for it. He doesn’t get angry, just a little bashful, and you can tell this is a new experience for him. You’re happy to be by his side, even if he can be terrifying when he feels like it.

He talks of books, dropped a millennium ago, only one of which has been found. He drops a hint as to where the other might be. It seems like he favours you. You can use this, you think.

He makes you immortal, and it’s a rush in your veins that you haven’t felt in years. It’s like something you didn’t even realise was out of place has shifted back into its rightful position. It feels right.

You climb to the top of your tower, and gaze over what you’ve built for him. It looks beautiful in the sunset. He’s given you a gift, and you let yourself fall to the ground, knowing his gift will keep you safe. It does.

----------

He calls you his pet, and it feels like a leash around your neck. It feels like a noose, tightening by the day. You don’t try to escape. Being owned is better than being alone.

He calls himself a god. He laughs and it chills you to the bone. He’s lying, he has to be, because if he’s truly a god, how could you ever hope to be free? You beg to be let out, you cry for help, but he just laughs and laughs and laughs.

He calls himself your friend, and it has to be true because if you don’t have him you don’t have anything. You smile and agree, and he pats your head, and it feels awful even as you lean into the touch.

He talks of a book. You can barely understand him, head still pounding and body aching all over. He’s excited, animatedly explaining to you what it does. You don’t care. You just want out.

He says he’ll make you immortal, and you can’t think of anything you want less. You can’t even climb tall buildings without looking longingly over the edge, and you know all too well what he has in store for you will be nothing but cruelty. You just want to be left alone.

You build your tower to the sky. From up here, you can see the destruction he wrought on all that you had. Now you have nothing. You want to fall to the ground to escape from him. You fall in the water. Maybe you can escape another way.

[sinoptics]

/dsmp, /rp

Phil doesn’t recognise him at first. It’s been… decades, if not centuries, since he had given a thought to the server where they had met. He’d never completely forget it, not when it’s the place that took away his only son, but the names and faces of the other members had long since slipped from his memory. So when Techno says, “Tommy?” in a strange tone of voice, it takes him a second to put two and two together.

Tommy looks… different than he remembers. His hair is bone white, for starters, and his eyes are the dullest of greys. Phil’s pretty sure they used to be blue.

“I didn’t think you were immortal?” He asks, in lieu of a greeting, curiosity beating out the need for politeness. He had thought the younger brother of his son was just a human, with an average lifespan. He’d never thought he’d see Tommy again. Never considered it.

“I’m not.” Tommy replies unhelpfully. He’d always been stubborn. Techno asks him if he’s alright, and Tommy just shrugs in reply. Phil remembers they parted on bad terms, but time heals all wounds, as they say, and sentimentality is easier to cling to than grudges. Even if Techno had been hurt by Tommy, centuries was a long time to hold on to resentment, and Phil knows Techno had only been so hurt by what had happened in between them because he’d cared so much.

“We could, uh, catch up?” Techno asks awkwardly, extending an olive branch. They’re on a hub server right now, not a place anyway stays for long, a sort of liminal space for servers. Techno and Phil have stopped there for a while until they decide where to go next, but Phil doesn’t mind staying a little longer to reminisce. Especially with someone who he knows was close with Wilbur.

But Tommy just shakes his head. “Have somewhere to be. Sorry.” He starts to head out of the shop they’re in but pauses in the doorway, turning slightly towards them. “I’ll tell Wil you said hi, when I see him next.”

He’s long since disappeared into the crowd before Phil even realises what he’d said. And for some reason he thinks Tommy won’t be so easy to find again.

[sinoptics]

whumptober day 16: recovery/aftermath

tw implied abuse

It starts with a kid in his basement.

Well – not his basement, exactly, it was more a hole under his basement, tunnelled into the rock, with a ash stained bell and a bunch of blankets on the floor arranged in a fashion that Techno could maybe define as a bed if he really stretched the definition of the word, and –

“Are those my gold blocks?!” Techno asks, exasperated. He already knows what the answer to that question is, and, yep, he checks upstairs and his gold blocks are missing. He goes back down to salvage whatever else Tommy has stolen off of him – he knew stuff was going missing, he thought it was just Phil messing up his chest organisation – and the kid continues talking his ear off. He’s doing his Tommy thing again, where he says eight different sentences in the space of a minute and finishes exactly none of them, but Techno thinks that there’s an edge of hysteria, desperation, to it that wasn’t there before. Or maybe not. Techno’s not a Tommy expert. And he’s got his own issues to work through right now, anyway. He doesn’t have time to look after some random kid.

… Tommy really doesn’t look good.

During one of his incoherent ramblings paired with over the top gestures, he stumbles into Techno and doesn’t even seem to notice he’s leaning his full weight on him, just continues talking about Dream and exile and Logstedshire and how he’s never going back there, which, good for him, Techno guesses.

Techno surveys the room he found Tommy hiding in once more. It’s kind of pathetic. Techno is very aware of the fact that Tommy is not physically capable of building something that looks nice, but he feels like this is a new low for him. And Techno saw Pogtopia. That was definitely not the most pleasant place he’s ever slept.

“Techno?” Tommy asks, looking up at Techno expectantly, still leaning on him. Techno hasn’t pushed him off because… anyway. What were they talking about again?

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be, Tommy?” Techno asks, changing his tone to be a little more gentle than it has been throughout the rest of this conversation. A pained look flashes across Tommy’s face.

“I don’t… I can’t go back to L’Manberg, they exiled me, they don’t – and I can’t go back to Logstedshire, because Dream was – Dream was my friend, but he was just there to watch me, so I can’t go back there, and I was hungry, and really cold, and I just thought, I could maybe, you know, stay here, I’ll just stay in this little hole, and I’ll stop stealing off you. Well, no, I definitely won’t do that but I’ll steal less, and please just tell Dream to fuck off if he comes here, he can’t know I’m here, please, Techno –“

“Okay, okay, let me just sort through those problems before you continue talking to me.” Techno interrupts, and Tommy shuts right up and looks at Techno with far more hope and expectation than Techno feels like he’s earned. “First of all, I want my gold and emeralds back, you can’t have those. And my channel membership sign, not because I can’t make a new one, just as a point of pride. If you do that, then maybe I will consider lettin’ you stay.” Maybe this will end badly, Techno thinks, but Phil’s already messaged him saying he’s stuck in L’Manberg for the foreseeable future, and the idea of being alone right now makes Techno feel vaguely nauseous. And there’s worse company than Tommy. Probably. Maybe.

“Thank you, Techno, thank you so much, have a stack of gapples as a token of my gratitude,”

“Those are my gapples!”

“They are now! Anyway I will definitely not be a bother at least that much, thank you again Technoblade, you are so cool and poggers.” Tommy finally stops leaning his entire body weight on Techno, and collapses to the floor almost immediately. “I’m fine, doing great, don’t mind me, just a little leg cramp.” Techno has a hunch this might be symptomatic of a bigger problem. He crouches next to where Tommy is decidedly not attempting to stand up again and gently presses the back of his hand to Tommy’s forehead. It’s freezing to the touch. When he retracts his hand, Tommy looks almost dazed.

“You need to warm up. Come on.” Tommy just stares at him. “It’s too cold underground, I have a fireplace upstairs.”

“I’m allowed?” Tommy asks hesitantly. Techno’s never heard Tommy ask permission like that for anything before. It’s unnerving.

“Sure.” Techno replies, instead of investigating further. Feelings have never been his strong suit. “You’ll just make yourself sick if you don’t. And it’ll ruin my real estate value if someone dies here.” Tommy huffs out an amused laugh, and Techno pointedly ignores the flare of pride in his chest.

He has to half-haul Tommy up the shoddily made ladder to his actual basement, when he realises that Tommy is barely even capable of putting weight on his feet. The feeling of anxiety grows when he basically carries (a strongly protesting) Tommy up the stairs to sit on one of the armchairs in front of the crackling fire, and Tommy feels far, far too light for a sixteen year old who’s over six foot.

He leaves Tommy there, for a bit, firmly impressing on him that he has to actually stay there, and goes to the kitchen to make food. He has a strong impression that if he makes something too rich, it’ll just make Tommy sick, but he needs actual food, and not the gapples he’s been munching on every few minutes or so. Techno doesn’t mind too much, he has gapples to spare, and Tommy clearly needs some nutrition, but getting dependent on gapples has never been healthy for anyone. Expensive addiction, anyway.

He eventually makes his way back into the living room with two bowls of soup, where Tommy’s sat, arms curled tight to his body, staring intensely at the dancing fire.

“Tommy.” Tommy jolts like he’s been shocked, turning to Techno with a wild, desperate fear in his eyes and almost falling out of his seat. “Hey, it’s just me.”

“Yep, I knew that, you just surprised me, I got distracted, you know me, easily distracted.” Tommy nods, and it seems like he’s trying to convince himself more than Techno.

“Had the ingredients lyin’ around for mushroom soup, so…” Techno holds a bowl out for Tommy to take, but Tommy just stares at it, face suddenly pale. “Tommy, come on, you need to eat real food.”

Tommy shakes his head. “I can’t. Not this, I just – I can’t, something else, I’m sorry, I can’t eat that.” Techno fights back the urge to make a snarky comment. Tommy looks absolutely miserable at the thought of eating mushroom soup, which is weird, but Techno can just make something else. It’s fine. He has other food in the house.

Techno’s halfway through making another meal when he feels a presence behind him. He turns to see a shivering Tommy hovering very forlornly in the doorway. The shivering’s a good sign, at least. It’s worse when they’re not shivering – something Techno knows all too well.

“What are you doin’.” Techno says flatly. “Go back and sit down.”

“I can help.” Tommy replies, but his voice is wavering.

“You can barely stand, Tommy. If you don’t rest it’ll just get worse and then we’ll have to cut your legs off.” He says it as a joke, but realises a little too late that it might not be one. He’s seen what prolonged cold can do to a person. The fear in Tommy’s eyes tells Techno the kid knows it wasn’t really a joke either. “You can help when you’re better.” Techno adds in a gentler tone.

He only realises later how much that sounded like an invitation to stay.

[sinoptics]

day 3 whumptober prompt: taunting/insults

tw animal death

Techno stares blankly at the crimson slowly seeping through the pure white of the snow, and all he can think about is how Phil isn’t there. He’d gone to visit Ranboo, who had vanished completely from the Arctic commune as soon as Techno had destroyed the prison. Techno had seen hide nor hair of him since, only really knew how he was doing from Phil’s frequent visits to… wherever he was hiding. Wherever they both were right now.

Techno hadn’t invited Dream to the Arctic commune. Had given him zero indication that he was welcome there. But well… he knew that Dream had nowhere else to go where he wouldn’t immediately be killed. So he looked the other way when he set up shop nearby. Ignored the dark withering look that Niki had given him. Ignored how Ranboo had upped and left. Ignored how even Phil hadn’t looked pleased.

He shouldn’t have.

Now Carl is dead on the floor. And Blitz. And Steve. And all Techno can fucking think about is how he wishes Phil were here.

Dream’s smiling up at him, he’s always smiling with that mask, his hands are a jarring shade of red next to the characteristic lime green of his hoodie, and Techno’s pets are dead.

“It’s not just people I can bring back to life,” Dream says idly, and Techno suddenly realises that the bloody sword in Dream’s hand is enchanted netherite, his enchanted netherite. He takes a step back. “I can bring back animals, too. I did it with Henry, with Friend… These would be easy for me.” He gestures around to the corpses littering the floor.

“What do you want, Dream?” Techno can’t even bring himself to feel angry, he just wants to know what he has to do next.

“First of all, I want to thank you for being so fucking stupid, Techno. Quackity, and Sam, and Wilbur, they’re all annoying, sure, but none of them have been quite such a threat to me as you. Quackity, well, he’s just pathetic. He knows better than anyone that he’ll never amount to anything meaningful. Sam is useless, a pawn, and Wilbur, Wilbur is more of a danger to himself than anyone else. But you, if you ever decided that you didn’t like me, if you tried to do me what you did to Tommy and to Tubbo and to the rest of L’Manburg – that wouldn’t be very good for me, would it? So I’m so glad that you’re naive enough to actually trust me halfway. Gave me a chance while all your so called ‘friends’ ditch you – they’ve got some sense.” Dream laughs, half manic, and Techno can only listen. “You were so proud of them in prison – the infamous aloof and detached Technoblade, finally has some friends. And now you’re alone, and you’re going to do exactly what I want you to do, when I want you to do it, if you want any chance of seeing your pets again.”

“And if I say no?” Techno asks dully. Dream huffs a laugh.

“It would be so easy for me to win a fight against Ranboo or Niki with this gear, don’t you think? And Phil, he only has one life-“

Dream doesn’t get to finish that sentence before Techno lunges at him. Dream meets his swing with disturbing ease, and for once Techno feels real, genuine fear that he might lose this fight.

“Ah, ah, Techno. You can kill me, but if Phil ever does lose that life of his, what will you do then? Hmm? You need me.”

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t.” Techno grits out, pushing against Dream’s sword, and Dream slides an inch backwards in the snow.

“But you can never be sure, can you?” Dream says, voice still so smug, and Techno knows he’s lost. He pulls away.

“What. Do you want.” Techno repeats through gritted teeth. He’s almost glad he can’t see the facial expression Dream’s making. Dream moves a little way away and starts… digging a hole? Techno just stares at him, confused.

“I want you to put your stuff in the hole, Techno.”