WARNING: BRUISING/MARKING KINK, descriptions of bruising and scars, biting, mention of non-consensual marking
Notes:
tl;dr: non-consensual marking is NOT OKAY, please trust your instincts and reach out if you think you need help.
This is a very dangerous subject that I make look very pretty, so before we get into this, it needs to be said that ANY kind of bruising/marking MUST be consensual, and, like any other kink, should be talked bout ahead of time very thoroughly. Humans are not 6' 5" anthropomorphic reptiles that go through a mating season once a year, and can absolutely control themselves. Real life is not fiction. If you're in a situation where this kind of thing tends to happen by "accident," it may not be an accident.
If you think you might need help:
This is the website for the Domestic Abuse Hotline
Their phone number is 1-800-799-SAFE ( 1-800-799-7233)
You can text by texting "Start" to 88788
If your gut is telling you that what's happening is not okay, it probably isn't, and you aren't alone.
Okay, back to the less important, but way more fun stuff…
You wake in the grey. The pale pre-dawn light filters in through the gossamer curtains, dimming and brightening as they shift in the gentle morning breeze. A single robin, nesting in the tree outside, ruffles her feathers, before hopping to the end of the alder branch and singing a greeting to the morning.
The sheets you're tangled in whisper sweet words and promises, tempting persuasions for you to stay in bed, wrapped in soft cotton and the arms of your beloved. The soft rumbling of his contented sleep against your spine is not making things any easier, but you somehow manage to extract yourself from bed, and pad silently to the bathroom.
It's darker in here, the early morning light from the window trapped on the other side of the shower curtain. It catches in the mirror as you shift the curtain aside to turn on the tap, the room quickly returning to darkness when the thick fabric falls back into place.
You study yourself in the mirror as you wait for the water to heat up. Dull, muted light, blocked by slate-blue polyester, pours shadows, like ink, over your skin. You tilt your head to the side, regarding some of the newer, more incongruous markings, imagining their colors beyond the monochrome. Would they be purple yet, or still moving toward a darker red? Would they bleed into the other, older colors, painting rainbows inside your skin?
A smile teases the corner of your mouth. It still surprises him that you love them so much. These markings. His markings. He would never hurt you intentionally, and you would never ask him to, but sometimes just being with you can push him past his limit. It never goes far, he'd never allow it, he'll just hold too tightly, push too hard, the evidence would rarely show until the next morning, hickeys and bruises scattered across your skin, and a blissful soreness in your muscles.
The shadow of a small scar, just where your neck meets your shoulder, catches your eye and your smile softens.
Last year was his first season after you'd finally stopped pretending, and admitted to yourselves that this is always where it was headed. It was his first season with a mate, and no one knew what to expect. When he felt the fever coming on, he panicked, and told you it was probably a good idea if you spent this first season apart.
It was different last year. You were together by that point, so the fever felt different. It didn't hurt, he just... needed you. In every way imaginable.
When you were apart, it felt like he was drowning, and when together, he felt dizzy and high. It was intense, and getting stronger, fast, and, frankly, it scared the shit out of him. So he decided that it would be safer if he kept his distance until he felt like he could keep himself in check. A decision that, to his credit, he managed to stick to for about 16 hours.
What followed was the reason why this year, you're here in the country, rather than cooped up in a sewer with a bunch of hormonal, territorial reptiles, or in your apartment, surrounded by other people.
He didn't even realize he'd bitten you until he tasted blood. Raph is normally all about biting in the bedroom, but this was different. He had been doing his best to stay away, so he took patrol on the other side of town, and a new coworker had walked you home. Raph could smell him on you. He was nice. Respectful. Kept his distance. And some part of him deep, deep in his DNA had a primal need to ensure it would stay that way.
When he caught the boy's scent, there was no anger, or jealousy, there was just the knowledge of what needed to be done, and his body's instinctive response to carry it out. They are free to admire, the others, of course they are. Personally, it's one of his favorite hobbies. But he is bound to you. You are his. And your body would carry their one warning.
He was inconsolable after it happened, refusing to see you until a full two weeks after the season was over, and there were many many long talks. This was one of those not-quite-human things that the two of you had been unprepared for, but eventually you worked out a plan, and two weeks ago you arrived at the farmhouse to ride out the following few.
Your hand reaches up to brush reverently over the raised skin. The aggression of the previous year hasn't returned. He's convinced it's the solitude, but you're not so sure. In the dark hours, when his skin is against yours, he is drawn to the scar like a magnet, dragging his teeth and tongue over it, with deep murmurs of your name, and "mine..." and gooseflesh scatters across your skin, as you wonder to yourself if this might have something to do with it.
Steam begins to tumble over the shower curtain and gather at the edges of the mirror. Stepping back, you pull the curtain aside and step into spray. It glitters, silver in the white gold morning, and you look down at your body, a riot in bloom within your skin.
Summary: Raphael is fascinated by your new tattoo.
Note: I got a new tattoo today (yaaaay!) so have this lil thing. The boys are in their twenties in this, as is the reader, who is, obviously, of legal tattooing age.
Warnings: Talks of tattoos/the healing process/blood
Word Count: 0.6k
Reader is: of tattooing age
You were sitting on the couch in the lair, Switch in your hands as you played Animal Crossing, sprucing up your island a bit. Needless to say, you were too distracted to notice the giant mutant turtle staring at you, his jaw agape as he stared at the fresh tattoo on your thigh, covered in shiny Saniderm to protect it.
When…when had that happened? Obviously recently, if the irritated red skin around it was any indication. Raph raised an eyebrow, staring at the tattoo. It was a cute little sea turtle, swimming up your leg. There were a few bubbles and flowers around it. As far as he knew, you didn’t have any other tattoos, or, if you did, he hadn’t noticed them.
“Raph?” You waved your hand, drawing his attention. “You good?”
“Yeah, I, uh…when’d ya get that?” He pointed at the tattoo with a large finger, eyes locking on it for another long moment before meeting your eyes again.
“This afternoon.” You replied, chuckling.
“Huh. Does it hurt?”
“A little.” You set your Switch down and turned your attention towards him as he walked closer. “Mikey designed it.”
“Mikey designed ya tattoo?” Raph asked, eyes widening. “Did Donnie do it? He did the rest of ours.” Raph informed you, hopping over the back of the couch to sit beside you.
“I didn’t know that. No, he didn’t. I went to a tattoo place on the surface. All women tattoo artists, very clean. All of the booths are decorated with pastel colors.”
“Sounds like the perfect place for ya.” He chuckled. “Is this ya first one?”
“It is.” You nodded. “I’ve been wanting it for a while, though.”
“It looks great on ya.” He grinned. “How bad did it hurt?”
“The linework didn’t hurt that bad but the colors did. Donnie went over aftercare with me. It’ll probably be bleeding the rest of today.”
“Donnie get ya any Aquaphor? I got some in my room if ya need it.”
“He did, but thank you.”
“If ya need any help changing ya bandage, let me know, alright? I’m real good at that.”
“I’d appreciate it. I’m planning on switching tomorrow, once the majority of the bleeding is done.” You looked over his tattoos curiously. “Did yours hurt?”
Raph looked down at his half-sleeve, offering his arm to you so you could get a closer look. It was hard to make it out, given the shade of his scales, but you could see a few turtles. Four of them, actually. Aww. There were some kanji as well, though you didn’t know what they meant.
“Yeah, pretty bad. Donnie had to make different needles to try to pierce the scales. Lots of, uh, trial and error.” He chuckled. “I think they look good, though. I want him to finish my sleeve at some point, but we’ve been busy.”
“I can imagine.”
“You think you’ll get more?”
“I was laying on that table brainstorming more.” You laughed. “I don’t know when, though. Probably a few months from now, once this one is all healed up.”
“That’s probably a good plan.”
Mikey gasped very loudly behind you. “Oh my god, angelcakes! You’re back! How did it turn out?”
“It looks awesome.” You assured him, motioning him closer so he could see. Mikey fawned over his art on your body and it was very wholesome, but Raph couldn’t fight the tiniest tinge of jealousy inside of him.
Maybe…maybe he’d design something for you to get tattooed next…
