#thingsthatgo

[wolfeyedwitch]

Foxfire

Fox fire: an eerie phosphorescent light.

@heathenville @nonbinary-disaster @kim-poce @whump-world 

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@towerlesskey @emmanemanemm @pigeonwhumps @whumpycries

[maracujatangerine]

90. Restless Night

CW: institutional slavery, pet whump, dehumanisation, box boy universe, cursing

Coriander was lying curled up in its own bed. The curtains drawn against the deepening night outside.

The pet’s whole body ached with exhaustion, but still, it couldn’t sleep. The bone-deep fatigue awaking memories of old, bad times.

Every time it tried to fall asleep, its body would start violently awake. Each time destroying any and all progress the pet had made on the way to unconsciousness. It was extremely frustrating.

It heard steps outside the door. Then, the gentlest of knocks.

“Cory?” Miss Lydia sounded hesitant, her voice low. “Is there anything you need? Would you perhaps like something to eat?”

The pet knew that if it just uttered the words, Miss Lydia would come and sit by it, as she had so many times before. It could almost feel the dip of the mattress as she would sit down, the comforting warmth of her body next to the pet, the soothing feeling of her hands gently carding through its hair and caressing its back and shoulders. The pet’s tense muscles would relax then, as if bespelled. Her mere presence would work like a sleeping spell, lulling the pet into dreamland.

Coriander longed for it. Miss Lydia’s presence, and sleep, in equal measure. But the pet couldn’t ask for it.

It was still so. fucking. angry.

…and upset… and scared… and not being a good pet… and sad… and ashamed… and regretful… and exhausted… and in pain… and confused… and still, so angry.

The very reason her presence would affect it, was the same reason it had panicked in the hospital. In this dark moment, the pet thought it might be the same reason it did anything at all. They had shaped it, moulded its responses, formed its actions, to be whatever its owner desired.

The pet considered just pretending to be asleep, but when Miss Lydia didn’t leave, Coriander finally replied.

“N-no, Miss Lydia. This pet just wants to sleep.”

She stood still for a moment outside the door, the pet could imagine her laying her hand against its surface.

“All right, Cory. I will be downstairs if you need anything.”

She tried hard to sound like every other night, but the pet knew her too well. It could hear the undertones of worry and sadness in her voice. After another moment of silence, Miss Lydia slowly turned and walked away.

*

Thank you all for comments, and reblogs, and likes! I really appreciate you all taking the time! 💖

If you are new to this story, the tale of Lydia and Coriander starts here. There’s quite a lot of it, and I hope you’ll enjoy it! ☺️

I also have another, shorter story in the works that focuses on hero vs villain themes. You can find that here.

*

Tag List Part 1: @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @whumpzone @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @icannotweave @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards-blog @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning

[secretwhumplair]

Return

973 words | No Warrior (sequel to Passing winter)

Content | Referenced past trauma

Notes | Big decisions are made!

This is the end of the story, however, unlike with The monster of Lindborough, there are still a bunch of gaps I want to fill sometime :)

For now, this is it, though. I hope you like it! Friendly reminder I have a ko-fi, otherwise I'm also always happy to read you comments even if I'm bad at responding dfjkdkgjh <3

Taglist | @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​​ @whump-me-all-night-long @whumpadump1939​​ @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight

@whumpzone @angel-stars​​ @kixngiggles @whumpsy-daisies @yet-another-heathen

@rosesareviolentlyread @cupcakes-and-pain @hollowtreesinhollowwoods @pleasancies @much-ado-about-whumping

@nine-tailed-whump​​ @whump-em @itsleighlove @newbornwhumperfly @tears-and-lilies

@deluxewhump @whump-cravings @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning @neverthelass

@whumpsday @silent-orchid-lady @everynameistakencarrots @scoundrelwithboba

»I want to go with you.«

This time, it was different. Everything was different, so much so Yves found it jarring he used the same words.

Runar had been right not to let him come last year, of course, he understood that with perfect clarity now; in truth, he had probably understood it then. But when last year, he had been fueled by fear — fear of what would become of him without Runar’s protection and care — as much as what little spark remained of his desire to fight for his people, now?

Now, everything was different.

Runar looked at him for a long moment. They were up at the cliffs, watching the sun set over the seas Runar would sail across soon.

He didn’t need Runar’s permission, really. He almost didn’t feel he did — he simply had to prove his valour like all who joined the warriors. But it seemed courteous to tell his lover first. They had been together — a couple — for months now.

»You’ll have to prove yourself,« Runar finally said, and Yves’ heart hopped at the way he didn’t argue.

»I know.« He smiled up at Runar, squeezed his hand.

»You’re sure, aren’t you?«

Yves nodded, his smile fading. This was a serious decision, and he couldn’t fault Runar for double-checking.

But to his surprise, after a moment, Runar started to grin. »It’s not fair to say I told you so, is it?«

»Heart of a warrior?« He had told him so. And Yves couldn’t believe it, not then. But perhaps it had been true all along.

He grinned back.

* All young folk who wanted to join the warriors had to pass a test of skill — they had to face one of the proper warriors in a fight, one on one. They didn’t have to win, strictly speaking. But all, and their opponent foremost, would judge if they could hold their own. It was a show the whole village came to watch.

It was agreed upon that there was no way Runar would be the one testing Yves. Yves agreed.

And yet Runar couldn’t help but wish it was him when he watched Signy approach him with that mad grin of hers. Some might argue she, too, was too biased in favour of the little thing, but from the way she pranced across the trodden-down grass within the marked circle, Runar had no doubt she wouldn’t be holding back.

Yet Runar knew these very thoughts were what made him so unsuitable. He could only watch, and hope Yves could handle himself as well as his sword.

It lightened his heart a little to hear the cheers from the crowd, as enthusiastic for Yves as for any of the younger kids born and raised here. Truly, this place had become Yves’ home, and even if he was found unfit to be a warrior — yet — he had a whole life ahead of him here.

Runar breathlessly watched the dull practice swords flash and clang, watched the swift steps of the pair on grass. He had watched Yves during his training a few times, and he knew how nimble he had become; he dodged and twisted, let Signy’s sword run off his like water, boldly shot forward like a little wasp.

Yet, Signy caught him on the thigh. It was a sharp hit, and Runar knew it must have hurt. He barely noticed himself jumping to his feet.

Yves scrambled out of the way; Runar couldn’t see his face, and he was desperate to know if he was overcome with the old fear, overwhelmed with memories-

Then Yves dashed forward, diving under Signy’s sword, and nearly got her back before she slid aside, experience and strength on her side. Runar shouted along with the cheers rising from the crowd.

It wasn’t much longer before Signy ended the fight, throwing an arm around Yves shoulder. »Yves!« she shouted, and the crowd picked up the shout, and Runar thought his heart would burst with pride, and with the wild happiness on Yves’ face.

* Yves felt his heart tremble — not with fear, not only — as the ship set sail, carrying him back.

He would go back.

With the sword waiting for him in the deckhouse.

For the moment, once the coast had disappeared from view and the last waves goodbye had been exchanged, there was nothing much to do. They were sailing before a favourable wind, and the new trainees weren’t on the first shift, so they could have a moment to smell the air and get a grip on the excitement fluttering in their hearts. Yves wasn’t much different… and yet, wholly.

He went to stand by the bow. The place brought back memories. Here he had cowered, a year and a half ago, desperate for a mercy he didn’t believe in.

Now, though, he got to look out across the waves the ship cut through under the expert guidance of the sailors, and smile when Runar took his hand.

»Are you alright?«

»Yes.« He watched the water, squeezing Runar’s hand. »It’s… I don’t know how… what it will be like. Over there.«

Runar hummed his compassion. »Whatever happens,« he said quietly, »I’ve got you. We’ve got you.«

»I know.« He leant against Runar. It was true.

The weeks at sea passed uneventfully; once the ship was becalmed for a few days, but not so long as to threaten their provisions; Brandr had taken to ignoring Yves wholly.

But eventually, a faint coastline appeared on the horizon.

The warriors not immediately occupied in guiding the ship towards a quiet beach where they could resupply, and start scouting, grabbed their gear.

Yves stood by the bow, between Signy and Runar, watching the land he had left behind become clearer.

His hand closed around the hilt of the sword Björn had made for him.

He was ready.

[secretsmutcorner]

Passing winter

1,374 words | No Warrior (sequel to A first attempt)

Content | NSFW (oral sex), implied past non-con

Notes | Yves and Runar have some fun :)

I originally wrote the whole thing from Runar's POV but it didn't seem right, really.

Taglist | @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​​ @whump-me-all-night-long​​​​ @whumpadump1939​​ @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight

@whumpzone @angel-stars​​ @kixngiggles @whumpsy-daisies @yet-another-heathen

@rosesareviolentlyread @cupcakes-and-pain @hollowtreesinhollowwoods @pleasancies @much-ado-about-whumping

@nine-tailed-whump​​ @whump-em @itsleighlove @newbornwhumperfly @tears-and-lilies

@deluxewhump @whump-cravings @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning @neverthelass

@whumpsday @silent-orchid-lady @everynameistakencarrots @scoundrelwithboba

Runar had assumed that that night would take them back a few steps; that Yves, perhaps, would be more hesitant, that he would prefer to keep their touches lighter for a while. He was prepared to go along with it, of course, to enjoy what Yves could easily give and patiently wait for his scars to heal further.

But if anything, Yves’ kisses became more passionate. He didn’t try to go for Runar’s groin again, that was true, but they continued their gentle little explorations above the waistline as if nothing had happened — except, perhaps, that Yves’ lips were more eager to explore where only his hands had been.

When he came home from training that evening, a few days later, he threw himself right into Runar’s arms without a care in the world, aiming straight for his lips.

He had to say something. If it was all genuine — well, nothing could have made him happier; but he worried. Yves had felt the urge to apologize right away — what if he was pushing himself to make up for something?

»Don’t hurt yourself,« Runar said, easily catching the little thing in his arms. Playful, as if referring to the way he flung himself at him, but he knew Yves had seen the earnestness in his eyes when he stilled, looking up into his face.

He looked so sweet. Runar would never forgive himself if he allowed him to injure himself for his, Runar’s, sake.

»You’re worrying again, huh?«

»A little,« Runar confessed. He knew Yves had, at times, found his worries overbearing, but how could he help himself when it was Yves’ wellbeing on the line?

This time, though, Yves simply traced his fingers along his shoulders and lowered his gaze. »I’m alright,« he finally said. »I — you’re still thinking about… what happened the other night, right? But I’m okay. Promise.«

He looked up to give Runar a half-smile, and Runar couldn’t help but reach up and cup his cheek. »I just want to — make sure, I guess. Don’t push yourself for my sake, okay?«

»Oh.« Yves looked away. »Oh no, that’s not — that’s not what this is.« And then he smiled at Runar again. »It’s really not. I want you — whichever way I can have you.«

He blushed adorably under Runar’s fingers, and Runar felt the heat creep into his own cheeks, too. »I want you too,« he replied before thinking it through.

He didn’t want to ask too much. But Yves just grinned, and kissed him again.

And in the end, it was bafflingly easy.

Weeks passed, sure. Night ate the days away, snow and quiet covering the village.

But it only served to make the hut seem cozier.

That night, Yves had turned in early, face red from the cold. There had been days, two or three, where the snow and the cold seemed to get to him, and after some hesitation, he asked Runar to accompany him to the weavers’ house. Runar once more was proud of him, for having shed the fear of asking for help from a friend — and he felt strangely honoured. Most days, however, Yves didn’t even need his support.

And today he came home early, with a package wrapped in cloth, and beamed at him before he even kissed him. »Björn made a test run of cookies!«

They devoured the cookies cheerfully instead of dinner, the rare spices that had found their way into Björn’s hands from the warrior’s expedition a strange delight. Soon they were feeding each other, laughing.

When they hurried to bed, eager for their nightly caresses, Runar found Yves helping him out of his clothes, and it seemed so natural to reciprocate.

They hadn’t done this before, not quite like this.

There was still a chuckle in Yves' throat as they kissed, vibrating into Runar’s mouth.

And then, when their lips parted, Yves continued kissing him, trailing down his neck, into the now familiar places on his chest. His hands gently pushed him down on his back, then slid down until they sat on his hips as his lips continued their journey.

Runar simply kept him in his embrace, his heart racing as he watched. It couldn’t have been plainer where Yves was going.

»You don’t have to do this,« Runar breathed, even as his desire nearly suffocated him. Yves looked beautiful, and the touch of his lips — already his imagination was racing ahead.

Yves hands rubbed his thighs, almost careful compared to how he’d been the last few days. His mouth travelled down past his belly button, his breath against his skin alone driving Runar almost insane with want.

His hair brushed against his hard cock first.

»I want to,« Yves finally replied, his voice barely audible.

So Runar let him.

Yves proceeded hesitantly at first. This was good, Runar reminded himself, it meant he wasn’t pushing himself too hard, he was taking care of himself and he would have been pround of him for that, too, if his impatience hadn’t grown by the moment, by each tender touch. It was all he could do not too grab on to him too hard.

But Yves didn’t pull away, not this time, and before long, Runar found himself dissolving in bliss.

* The taste of semen filling his mouth almost took Yves back, but he just remembered he wouldn’t be punished if he just spit it out. So he did, and that made it easier.

And then there was the much more immediate echo of Runar calling his name inbetween moans of pleasure. The feeling of driving his lover over the edge — he had done this, by his own choices, his own actions. He wasn’t by any means an experienced lover, not even with the lessons the knights had beaten into him, but he was good enough.

He rested his cheek on Runar’s sweat-soaked thigh, catching his breath, and looked up into his face, still hazy, but looking down upon Yves with the softest, sweetest eye.

»Did that feel good?« It was a silly question — the answer so evident — but he wanted to hear it, still.

»It damn well did.« Runar pushed the words out between still-heavy breaths, and Yves smiled at the rawness of it. Runar was always so careful with him, but for the moment, he’d gotten him past it.

He turned his face back into Runar’s skin, littering more kisses as he slowly made his way back up to lay with him, in his arms.

He trailed his way up past his hip, up the gentle slope of his belly.

»There’s so much of you,« he muttered along his way. So much body for him to cover in kisses, to rest against and be held by.

»It used to scare you,« Runar said softly.

Yves had reached his nipple and bit it, gently. He was rewarded with another groan, pulling another smile from him.

»Yes. It used to.«

Finally, he buried himself in the crook of Runar’s neck, the whole length of his body resting against Runar’s, his strong arms wrapped around him once more. He sighed — oh to stay here for ever and ever.

»I’m so happy,« he whispered, and when Runar turned his head to look at him, he grinned with ease. »I’m so happy to be with you.«

And that wasn’t all; not even all he wanted Runar to know; he’d be happy to, Yves knew that. But he had to look away. »And I’m proud of me.«

Runar squeezed him gently. »You should be. You should be, my brave little sweetheart.«

For a while, they just lay there, and Yves, his hand on Runar’s chest, observed as his heartbeat calmed from the force with which it had thrown itself into his ribcage, as if it truly wanted to leap into Yves’ hand.

Then Runar said, »What about you, sweetheart? Do you want me to — touch you?«

Yves raised his eyes. He hadn’t quite thought about it, but now the prospect seemed exciting. Scary, too. He had been touched, but not the way Runar meant. Not that way, for certain. But truly, his body yearned for something.

He felt Runar’s heart hop under his hand as he replied, another grin stealing onto his lips, »We can try.«

[a-crumb-of-whump]

ANB Drabble: Starved

Masterlist

Content: Starvation, captivity, pet whump, vampire whumpee, begging, creepy/intimate whumper, non-con touching (non-sexual).

I really wanted to hurt carlos a bit, so have this. it takes place early on in Carlos' life, when he's still not used to constant starvation and finds it harder to cope with:)

-

Three weeks without food should have been nothing to Carlos by now. After several instances in which he’d been deprived of blood for years before getting the privilege of sating his hunger again, he thought three weeks would be nothing. 

But as it stood right now, he was already close to breaking. It was torture. It was beyond humiliating. He couldn’t even recall the amount of times he’d been belittled for drooling when the smell got too close to him or crying when his master cruelly decided to extend the length of time in which he would go unfed at the last minute.

And without a doubt, the evenings were the worst. They were when his master would invite him into his bed just so he could wrap him up in his arms and force him to endure the constant smell of fresh blood pumping beneath his skin. It caused his stomach to ache and his mind to obsess until the thought of feeding was the only thing keeping him from passing out from exhaustion. 

He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had a proper sleep since this nightly routine began.

“Feeling hungry yet?” Master would tease as soon as he felt the vampire attempting to subtly pull away from him. Large fingers would slip into his hair, gripping onto it so hard that Carlos couldn’t help but let out a pained noise, before dragging his head in close again. So close that his nose was nuzzled against the human’s collar, forced to take in the sweet smell with every breath he took in. 

So close, and yet so damn far.

“It hurts,” he practically whined, his voice muffled against his master’s neck. As if to demonstrate just how much, his stomach growled a moment later, loud and desperate. “I’m begging you, sir. Please. I’m in so much pain.” 

He squeezed his eyes shut as soon as the human yanked his entire body closer to him. Despite being taller, he was no match for his master. Not without food. Not with his body in such a state. All he could do was allow it to happen, even his head feeling too heavy to lift on occasions. 

“Shh, I promise it’s just a few more days,” he gently encouraged, though they both knew it was an empty promise. “At the very least, this will make you appreciate what I give you just that bit more.” 

An anguished, pained sob squeezed its way out in response. His entire body trembled, fingers weakly clinging to his master’s shirt despite how much he wanted to get away from the overwhelming smell. He was forced to use so much willpower just to avoid sinking his teeth into the flesh on his shoulder. His jaw ached from how hard he was clenching it. If he were anybody else, he’d have fed from him as he slept long ago. 

But he wasn’t. He was Carlos Emrick, a vampire who had never harmed a being superior to him and would never attempt to. So, he sat there and cried until his throat grew hoarse, long after his master had fallen asleep and left him to suffer in silence.

-

@choppedflowermuffinchild @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @emcscared-whumps @espresso-depresso-system @inkkswhumpandstuff @pigeonwhumps @pumpkin-spice-whump @roblingoblin285 @sacredwrath @some-thrilling-heroics @stabby-nunchucks @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @trans-writes @whump-blog @whumpsday @whumpshaped @paniatheweirdone @whumpycries @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @thekittyburger @whumpdreamz

[echo-goes-mmm]

Ambrose and Elliot #15

Masterlist

Previous

Next

Warnings: torture, explicit non-con, light starvation, slight death wish

Once upon a time, a few years ago or more, there was a slave. His name was [REDACTED] and he served his Master faithfully. Because anything less than perfection was punished. But [REDACTED] couldn’t remember if he was being punished or not. It was hard to remember much of anything when his back was on fire.

He cried out as Master brought down the cane again. And Again. And Again.

“Please, I'm sorry, Please-” Master scoffed. His head and back hurt so much and the room was spinning and he just wanted it to stop.

“Get up.” [REDACTED] sobbed in relief. It was over.

But his arms were too weak to push himself up off the stone floor, and his legs refused to move at all. 

“I said. Get. Up.”

“I- I’m trying Master, please, I-”

Master’s boot slammed into his back, grinding the heel into the fresh wounds and welts. He wailed, the pain turning his vision to white.

“Get up,” said Master, but it was impossible. [REDACTED] didn’t move, too confused to react, and Master twisted his heel again. Now he understood. This wasn’t a punishment or even for Master’s amusement. This was a lesson. 

___________________

Master’s hips slammed into him. Breathe he reminded himself, but then Master grabbed his hair, and the air escaped him. Master moaned behind him, and his legs throbbed. His lungs struggled to keep up, but Master enjoyed this position and that was all that mattered. 

Soon enough Master let go in favor of a bruising grip on his hips. [REDACTED]’s arms gave out, and he heard Master groan again. They’d been at it for a while, and blood dripped from between his legs and stained the bed sheets. It hurt so much. He tried to relax, tried to make his thoughts drift somewhere else, but his brain wasn’t working today.

Finally, Master finished, and the warmth of his cum was indistinguishable from his own blood. 

Master shoved him away, and left to clean himself up in the bathroom. [REDACTED] sat on the floor for a moment, catching his breath. He had precious few minutes to change the sheets before Master wanted to sleep, and he planned to use them all. His cock was still hard, unfortunately, and that had its own awfulness. Why couldn’t his body hate it as much as the rest of him? The best he could do was ignore it. 

He changed the sheets, careful to keep his own disgusting mess away from the soft fabric. Thankfully he’d stopped bleeding by the time he got to wiping the floor. Once, he hadn’t managed it, and Master mocked him for trying to clean while still dripping.

Master was nicer, after sex. Or maybe he was too sated and tired to do much more than yell at him. Either way, it was a break. Even if it came with a high price.

___________________

He hated winter. Master’s stone floors were unforgiving. [REDACTED] wasn’t allowed more than what Master gave him, and Master seemed to forget his slave felt cold too. His only allowance for winter was a threadbare pair of socks in addition to his usual shirt and boxers. 

Lighting the fires was the warmest he'd get for months.

His teeth chattered all the time, and occasionally Master gagged him to stop the sound. Of course, he wasn’t allowed to take it out, so sometimes he missed his meal of the day. 

Master was lazy during the cold months, and his punishments were lighter. [REDACTED]’s favorite punishment was more of a reward, so he tried really hard to hate it enough that Master wouldn’t catch on. 

It was a tiny closet Master would lock him in, sometimes for days. But the small room heated quickly from his meager body heat, and it was nearly pleasant. If he curled up really small, he could sit and enjoy the warmth.

Spring would always come eventually, but some years he wondered if he would die before the snow melted. Sometimes he even wished he would.

taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog @whump-em @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @starfields08000 @littlespacecastle @mylovelyme

[babycharlottecanada]

New from Green Toys at Baby Charlotte! 🌍

O P E N Tuesday to Saturday 10am - 5pm

#babycharlotte #greentoys #newstock #thingsthatgo #truck #helicopter #boat #recycledplastic

[whumpsday]

taglist part 2:

@spookyceph

@termsnconditions-apply

@the-whumperfly-effect

@the-whumpers-grimm

@thecyrulik

@thegreatwhodini

@themarlo

@thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight

@t0rture-me

@vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff

@vickytokio

@whuarri

@whump-blog

@whump-cravings

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@whump-in-the-closet

@whump-me-all-night-long

@whump-my-heart-away

@whump-queen

@whumpedydump

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@whumpycries

@whumpzone

@wolfeyedwitch

@dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night

@cepheusgalaxy

@sink-the-ship

@the-scrapegoat

Kane & Jim #E2: Stay With Me

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: recovery, comfort, nightmares, whumper turned whumpee turned caretaker, whumpee turned caretaker turned whumpee, vampire caretaker

Whumpmas in July Day 9: "Stay with me"

this is a flash-forward taking place about two years out from the present arc! made as a sort of follow-up to A Nice Thought.

be warned that this piece has... ⚠️spoilers⚠️ for the present arc! it's nothing i haven't hinted at before in ask-answers though, and this series is non-chronological anyway.

-

Kane was up and running the second he heard the scream.

He flung the basement door open, dashing up the stairs as fast as he could without breaking them. Up, up, down the hall, another door-

No one else was there. Jim was just lying in his bed, trying to catch his breath, the room dimly illuminated by the plain night light he always kept on.

Just a nightmare.

"Are you alright?" Kane asked, stepping back into the doorway. He knew how Jim was with nightmares by now, that his presence wouldn't be welcomed. "I was just- I can go."

Jim looked up at him with tired, scared eyes. "Stay with me? Please?" he asked, his voice small.

Kane was surprised, but he didn't need to be told twice. He was by Jim's side in an instant, the bed creaking slightly as he sat down on the soft blanket next to him. "Of course. Whatever you need."

"Thanks, man." Jim stared up at the ceiling, eyes wet with tears as he tried to control his shaky breathing.

"You don't usually scream," Kane noted, concerned.

Jim gave him a weak laugh and a nudge on the arm. "Guess I'm turning into you, huh?"

Kane rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help but smile a bit, too. At least Jim felt well enough to joke around. "I don't even do that as much anymore." It'd happened about once a month when Jim first took him home, but by now, it was down to two or three months between. He'd almost never heard Jim do it, maybe twice in nearly three years here. Not counting back in vampire territory, of course.

"Yeah, you do." Jim scooted closer, resting his head on Kane's hand.

"Do you want me to hold you?" Kane blurted out. He regretted it as soon as he said it. How stupid, Jim was a grown man, he didn't need-

Jim didn't even hesitate. "Yeah."

Well, if he was agreeing...

Kane scooped the man into his arms, leaning back against the headboard. Jim rested his head against Kane's chest, tears leaking into his shirt. He must be so scared...

"I won't hurt you. Never again," Kane reminded him.

"Wasn't you this time," Jim mumbled. "It was your brother."

Ah. "Well, he certainly can't hurt you."

"I know. My dumbass sleeping-brain's the one that doesn't." Jim tapped the side of his head and sighed. "You know, it's stupid, but I actually used to- ah, forget it."

Kane pushed down the urge to question him. This was about making Jim comfortable, no matter how curious he was. "Alright," he agreed.

But Jim had never been one for holding his tongue, and continued without encouragement. "Back then, back at your old place, after- like during the last two years especially? I used to fantasize that you'd hold me. Like if I asked on my birthday or something. You were nice on my birthdays. I just wanted someone to, and you were the only one there." He turned his face away, embarrassed by his own admission.

Kane would never stop regretting how he'd treated Jim, but this was a particular knife between the ribs, hot and silver and twisting. He clutched Jim a little closer. "I'm sorry. I'm glad I can hold you now," he whispered.

Jim turned back to look at him. "Would you have said yes?"

He didn't answer for a bit. He had to think about it, had to give Jim the real answer, not whatever he assumed Jim wanted to hear. He'd been getting better at that. So much had changed, it was hard to put himself in his past self's shoes, the man who would hurt Jim without a second thought.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe. Depending on my mood, I could have gone either way. I can tell you this for certain, though: even if I'd said no, I would have wanted to, for the same reason as you."

That earned him a small smile. "Yeah, that tracks."

"I can stay here the whole night, if you want," Kane offered. He glanced at the window: the blinds were already closed. He was okay. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. I've been just as bad."

Jim was well-aware. He'd stayed with Kane some nights, too.

"Yeah, okay."

They laid silently like that for a while, the crickets softly chirping in the night. Jim worried about inconveniencing Kane- there was still a layer of fear to it, even after all this time, even after he was the one who asked Kane to stay. Like he would be judged as badly-behaved and requiring discipline.

But Kane didn't do anything. It was just nice.

"It's kind of pathetic," Jim muttered. "He barely even got me, you know? C or Chewie or Graham or whatever the hell he's calling himself now was with him for eight years. I shouldn't be having the stupid nightmares and needing to be held when I'm a goddamn thirty-six year old man and he barely even got me."

"He's back to C again right now, I think, but he told me he's thinking about trying Graham again last time we spoke. I think he might really stick with it next time," Kane mused.

"Good for him." Jim always just asked him what his name was that month whenever he said hi to the guy so he wouldn't get it wrong.

"You know, I think of thirty-six as rather young," Kane continued. "Most humans probably would-"

Jim laughed. "Yeah, 'cause you're old as shit, grandpa."

Kane sighed, his chest rising and falling deeply under Jim's head. "Yes, I'm up there, so you can't go saying you're too old to be getting frightened when I do the same thing at one-hundred and eighteen. As I said, there's nothing to be ashamed of. Besides... I don't think I helped things, as far as your reaction went. You already had nightmares, the face just changed."

"Well, you're helping things now."

Kane didn't have a rebuttal to that one. "You should try and get some sleep. I won't let anything happen to you."

He was safe. He was safe. Jim just had to remember that. Couldn't get much safer than with a vampire protecting him. "Okay. Thanks."

"Any time." Kane began softly humming a tune, a song Jim didn't recognize, but one that soothed him anyway.

He slept peacefully through the rest of the night.

-

stay tuned, the big one's coming wednesday.

taglist in reblog!

event: @whumpmasinjuly

[wolfeyedwitch]

bailey what if everything was just an elaborate ploy from your whumper to get back at you. the heroes were all contracted. none of it is real

(rate this fear :)) )

Bailey shakes their head almost before you finish speaking.

"No." Their smile is bitter-bright. "Any other team, I might believe that, but not this one. Not here. Not... not Icarus."

That's why they'd come to these heroes in particular, after all. Would it have been less risky to go to another team? Absolutely. Picking the team of heroes that not only included the hero they'd most often fought, but the one they had hospitalized, felt much like handing them a scalpel and drawing a line to show them where exactly to cut. But this, this question, hit right on the reason they'd chosen to come to these heroes.

Bailey can't trust their own judgment. They have done so much wrong, things they can't even begin to make amends for. Who better to trust than the people who fought the hardest against them?

(And anyway. Icarus is owed his pound of flesh.)

---

5/10. Scary but manageable.

Taglist:

@heathenville @nonbinary-disaster @kim-poce @whump-world 

@dolls-circus @pickleking8 @ghostfacepepper @cupcakes-and-pain @badluck990 

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @extemporary-whump @whumpwillow 

@multiple-characters1-acct @sunflower1000 @fleur-alise @equestrianwritingsstuff @scp-1296 

@livingforthewhump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @suspicious-whumping-egg @kaiwewi @lelly-belly 

@neuro-whump @newbornwhumperfly @whumpthisway @whumpcreations @wicked-whump 

@heart4brains @myhusbandsasemni @how-to-be-a-hero @kixngiggles @kurochan 

@whumpsday @extrabitterbrain @pattonvirglsanders @neverthelass @we-write-as-one 

@elrysdoesstuff @whumperflies-and-roses @ha-ha-one @whatwhumpcomments @ramadiiiisme 

@towerlesskey @emmanemanemm @pigeonwhumps @whumpycries

[maracujatangerine]

87. Asking Cory

CW: institutionalised slavery, dehumanisation, box boy universe, pet whump

There was something going on. Coriander could feel it. Miss Lydia was talking with other people about the pet. She tried to be discreet, but Cory had noticed the way she suddenly cut off her conversation with Carla when the pet entered the break room at the bookshop, and the worried looks they both gave it. The phone conversations with Indira when she closed her office door. The evaluating way she looked at the pet when she thought Coriander didn’t notice.

Masters had the right to keep secrets. But Cory wished she would just talk to the pet instead.

It couldn’t ask, though. That would reveal that it had been trying to spy into her private business.

It wasn’t until a few days later, when the pale golden light of an early winter morning streamed in through the kitchen windows, that Miss Lydia finally sat down on the floor next to the pet.

The sunlight brought out the flecks of gold in her brown eyes, and picked out highlights in her hair. There was a worried wrinkle between her eyebrows. A sign for the pet to steel itself for whatever was coming.

“Cory, there is something I would like to ask you about.”

The pet nodded. “Y-yes, Miss Lydia.”

“I have been talking with Indira…” She hesitated. “We’ve been discussing your injured shoulder. We’ve been thinking that you have had enough to deal with up until now, but…” She looked up at him with a little smile. “… since you are doing so much better now, it might be time to see if there’s anything we can do.”

Lydia pulled her hand through her hair. “Indira says that you’ll need an x-ray. It’s important to know exactly what we’re dealing with before you can get any treatment.” She sighed. “You know that it usually means going to the WRU…” She held up her hand. “… but I am not willing to take the risk of having them mistreat you. Instead, Indira has found a colleague at the hospital that has promised to help us sneak you in.”

Lydia searched Cory’s face, her own expression serious. “I know that you don’t… feel that good about hospitals. You know that this is not risk-free. If they catch us, I might be forced to let WRU treat you.” She paused. “Since your shoulder is still bothering you, I think it is worth taking the risk. However, it is your choice. What do you think?”

The pet had begun to slowly, unconsciously shake his head. His breathing came faster, a sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead. Then, with a deep breath, he forced himself to stillness.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he straightened up. Then, he looked up to meet Lydia’s eyes.

“Miss Lydia, T-this pet is willing to try.”

Tag List Part 1: @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @whumpzone @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @icannotweave @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards-blog @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning

[secretwhumplair]

Smith

684 words | No Warrior (sequel to Birth)

Content | Social anxiety, mention of collaring

Notes | Remember Björn? Yves does.

Taglist | @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​​ @whump-me-all-night-long​​​​ @whumpadump1939​​ @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight

@whumpzone @angel-stars​​ @kixngiggles​​ @whumpsy-daisies @yet-another-heathen

@rosesareviolentlyread @cupcakes-and-pain @hollowtreesinhollowwoods @pleasancies @much-ado-about-whumping

@nine-tailed-whump​​ @whump-em @itsleighlove @newbornwhumperfly​​​ @tears-and-lilies

@deluxewhump @whump-cravings @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning @neverthelass

@whumpsday @silent-orchid-lady @everynameistakencarrots @scoundrelwithboba

One day, the iron handle of the cooking pot broke, spilling soup right into the fire it had hung over.

Yves found, to his surprise, he was more annoyed than frightened.

He had a cold dinner and set the pot by the door to take it to the smith in the morning. It seemed simple.

But when he woke up and picked up the pot and went on his way to the village, he found his grasp tightening with every step. He had never really had much interaction with the smith, not since… he arrived, he’d just seen him around. He seemed a calm and kind person, nothing at all to be worried about.

Yet when he stood before the workshop, its open door spilling heat onto the path, he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering back to their last encounter.

Truly, he owed the smith his thanks. He had been nothing but helpful to him, and Yves had never even talked to him again. That was silly, too, and it would seem sillier to catch up with it now.

For a little while, he just stood there, listening to the clanging of the heavy hammer from within, distracting himself with the flight of the handful of birds circling above without really seeing them.

Then, he took a deep breath, and knocked on the doorframe.

The smith didn’t look up from the iron he was hammering, but he shouted, »One moment!« and finished up his work, thrusting the as yet shapeless metal back into the forge. He was smaller than Yves remembered, but not by much.

»Yves!« When he finally looked to the door, surprise was plainly written across his face. »Good to see you about! How can I help you?«

Yves hesitated. He had thought about what he wanted to say, but a little voice in the back of his head still insisted he was being ridiculous. It mingled with the lingering fear of asking for help, of bothering anyone.

»I wanted to thank you,« he finally managed. »I never quite did. For — you know.« He briefly touched a hand to his neck. Even that was enough to summon a memory of the horrid collar.

It was gone now.

»’course.« Björn smiled — he had such a kind smile, much like Runar’s. »We do what we can to help one another out. I know you were scared. Are you well now?«

That also seemed a silly question, so many months later; but after all, it was Yves’ fault they hadn’t had this conversation sooner. And yet… he found it easy to return the smile.

»I am. Thanks.« He awkwardly lifted the pot. »I was also hoping you could have a look at this.«

»Of course! Give it here.« The pot seemed small in the smith’s hands, but maybe that was because Yves hadn’t seen it in Runar’s for so long. Björn took one quick look at the break, tutted, and put the pot on a shelf. »That shouldn’t be much trouble. Do you need it for lunch? Otherwise I’d rather finish those up, and you can have it back by evening.«

»That’s fine.« Yves wouldn’t dream of rushing him. »Do you… need anything? The chives are coming along nicely.« A lot of the town operated on the assumption that everyone contributed their share to the community’s well-being, and Yves’ part was, mostly, to weave — though he had started to spin, as well, and like everyone helped out in the fields when needed — but it was always polite to offer, wasn’t it?

Björn smiled. »Sure, wouldn’t mind some.«

Weeks passed, and Yves found himself stopping by the smith’s workshop more and more often when he came by. He brought him herbs from the garden, and they chatted — from a few words to whole coversations about Yves’ garden (no, Runar’s garden) or Björn’s craft.

Yves hadn’t, once he shed the worst of his fear, found it hard to get along with most of the village. Runar’s family had taken him in warmly. But as time went by, he started to feel like he had a friend.

[a-crumb-of-whump]

ANB Drabble: Lists Of Praise

A New Beginning Masterlist | Comfortember 2023 Masterlist | @comfortember

~ Comfortember | Day 6: Notes ~

Content: Vampire whumpee, human caretaker, recovery.

-

“Can I ask you something?” 

Despite knowing he was in the room, Carlos jumped at the sound of Ryker’s voice. He peered up from the opposite side of the coffee table and subtly shifted to cover the page of his colouring book with his arms, head slightly tilted. 

“Yes, sir?” 

Ryker tilted his head back with a gentle smile. “I’ve noticed you sometimes taking notes in the back of your books, like you’re doing right now. What are they?” he asked curiously. 

For a moment, Carlos considered trying to come up with a half-baked lie as he glanced down at the dozens of quotes written in smudged pen. He didn’t know why the urge was there. It wasn’t like he had anything to hide. He supposed part of it was the fear of having it used against him if anyone else knew how important his “notes” were to him. 

Though, he knew realistically that Ryker would never do that. Ryker was kind and supportive, often encouraging the things that brought him any sense of joy or entertainment. He’d never confiscated anything from him. Never even threatened to. 

The vampire nervously tapped his pen against the wood on the table a few times before tentatively uncovering his book again. “You can read it if you like,” he whispered as he rotated it until the words were the right way up for Ryker. “I like to write down all the kind things you and Adam say to me so I can look through them on bad days. The books fill up kinda quickly, but I’ll just move on to the new sketchbook that Charlie got me when I’ve got nothing else.” 

Carlos had never really considered the possibility of his little habit making a difference to anyone else, but Ryker looked overjoyed as he read through each and every line. The writing itself was rather small and hard to read, but that didn’t seem to make a difference to the human. 

“You did a wonderful job with breakfast.” 

“You are so fucking smart. How didn’t I think of that?” 

“You’re getting better and better at this game!” 

“That sketch is beautiful.” 

The back page was almost full already after several days of logging any and all praise in it. He had two more colouring books left before he’d move on to his big one, where he’d already started practicing proper sketches. 

Ryker was all smiles when he finally pushed the book back towards him. “How long have you been doing that for?”

“I started a few days after you brought me home,” Carlos whispered. He could practically feel his face flushing bright red. It felt like someone had seen directly into his soul. “I was so scared that you were going to start hurting me, ‘n’ I wanted to remember all the positive things you had to say about me along with the bad stuff as well. That never happened, obviously, but… now I have no desire to give up the habit.” 

He shut his eyes when Ryker reached out to ruffle his hair. “Well, thank you for showing me. I’m glad you were able to find a constructive way to cope with your anxiety.” 

Carlos smiled, a fang poking out. “Me too.”

-

Comfortember 2023 Taglist: @topsheepstudent

ANB Taglist: @choppedflowermuffinchild @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @emcscared-whumps @espresso-depresso-system @inkkswhumpandstuff @lumariane @pigeonwhumps @pumpkin-spice-whump @roblingoblin285 @sacredwrath @some-thrilling-heroics @stabby-nunchucks @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @trans-writes @whump-blog @whumpsday @whumpshaped @paniatheweirdone @whumpycries @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @thekittyburger @whumpdreamz

[echo-goes-mmm]

Ambrose and Elliot #11

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: somewhat explicit implied future non-con

Ambrose led him to their next stop. It was a small, wedged in between a large general goods store and the town butcher. 

Another bell tinkled when Ambrose opened the door. A man looked up from his work: polishing a shoe. 

Elliot glanced around the room. The interior was far different from the tailor’s clutter. The shelves were neat and orderly, one side held boots and the other shoes. There were even two shelves dedicated to dress shoes, both brown and shiny black.

“Hello, Ambrose. I haven’t seen you in a while.” The man put down the shoe, straightening it to align with its twin. Elliot did not like this man.

“To be fair, I haven’t needed to visit. Your craftsmanship holds up too well,” pointed out Ambrose.

The man smiled, sharp and smug. He leaned against the desk.

“Who’s your friend?”

“This is Elliot. He needs a pair of shoes and a pair of winter boots. As soon as you can manage.”

The man looked him up and down. 

“Well, can he manage to pay for speed? Otherwise, he’ll have to wai-”

“David.” snapped Ambrose, scowling. 

David straightened, pursing his lips. “I see. Well, come over here and sit, then. I’m a very busy man.”

Elliot came over and sat. Ambrose followed close behind.

The man had him toe off his borrowed shoes, and Elliot was very happy he’d taken the time to scrub that morning.

David measured his size, noted down a few things, and that was that.

“I’ll bill you later,” he bit out as he escorted them to the door.

“Fine.” retorted Ambrose.

They stepped outside, and the door closed sharp behind them.

“Sorry about that,” said Ambrose. “He’s sort of an asshole, but David’s the only shoemaker in town. It gets to him.”

Elliot wasn’t sure why Ambrose was sorry, but he nodded anyway.

___________________

They went back to Hearthwood for lunch.

“Tonight we can just relax,” said Ambrose. “I don’t open on the third day of the week.”

Once again he held a cup of tea, but no meal. Elliot was pretty sure it was jasmine.

“Yes, sir.” Elliot wasn’t smart, but he knew his place in the world. Master Ambrose wanted sex tonight, and Elliot’s duty was to serve. He’d always done well with men. Maybe Master Ambrose would be gentle in bed like he was outside of it, but masters needed outlets and that was Elliot’s job. It could go either way, but it was inevitable.

“How are you feeling?” Another vague question.

“I’m alright, sir.”

“Would you like to rest a little, or go back out? I’d like to get some furniture for you, but there’s no rush.”

Lying was disobedient, but refusing to please was worse. Elliot considered how tired he was. He didn’t really want to go out more, but he wouldn’t get touched furniture shopping. And staying in meant he’d have to go later anyway.

“We could um, go back out.” 

___________________

To his relief, there was only one place left to go. They met a nice lady, Jennifer, who made all kinds of things from wood and stone. There were plenty of pieces to pick from and Elliot was nervous about having so many choices. In the end, Ambrose had him pick out a cedar chest and dresser, a nightstand, and a vanity. They were all medium reddish-brown.

Jennifer was set to deliver them tomorrow. Her siblings would carry it upstairs and all Elliot had to do was choose where to put them. 

He was admittedly distracted; tonight loomed over his mind. Elliot waited for Master Ambrose to correct him, but it didn’t come. Maybe the punishment for being distracted was forcing him to think about it.

What would Master want? His mouth? His ass?

Would he strangle him or tie him down?

Would he beat him?

The belt or just his hand?

Would he slap him across the face or would he take him from behind?

Ultimately, it didn’t matter. Elliot would be good and take it, no matter what.

He just hoped it would be quick.

taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog @whump-em @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight

[whumpzone]

Cerys: *casual lil update on the vampire col au*

Me: *screaming and crying in excitement, about to re-read everything that’s currently out*

idk if you can tell but i’m excited ^.^

~ @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight

youre too sweet!!! i was annoyed i didnt get it finished last night so it'll be out asap! :D

[wolfeyedwitch]

Set Up For Failure

Bailey and their no good, very bad day month year

Taglist:

@heathenville @nonbinary-disaster @kim-poce @whump-world @dolls-circus

@pickleking8 @ghostfacepepper @cupcakes-and-pain @badluck990 @mylifeisonthebookshelf

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @extemporary-whump @whumpwillow @multiple-characters1-acct

@sunflower1000 @fleur-alise @equestrianwritingsstuff @scp-1296 @livingforthewhump

@thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @suspicious-whumping-egg @kaiwewi @lelly-belly @neuro-whump

@newbornwhumperfly @whumpthisway @whumpcreations @wicked-whump @heart4brains

@myhusbandsasemni @how-to-be-a-hero @kixngiggles @kurochan @whumpsday

@extrabitterbrain @pattonvirglsanders @neverthelass @we-write-as-one @elrysdoesstuff

@whumperflies-and-roses @ha-ha-one @whatwhumpcomments @ramadiiiisme @towerlesskey

@emmanemanemm @pigeonwhumps @whumpycries

[maracujatangerine]

83. On the phone 6

CW: institutionalised slavery, dehumanisation, box boy universe, pet whump

”I’ve managed to arrange it. It wasn’t easy, but I have finally found a friend who is willing to help us.”

“Really? Oh my god, Indira, you are amazing!”

“I aim to please.” Lydia could hear the smile in the doctor’s voice. “But we will have to be careful. Have you talked with him about it yet?”

“Not yet, I didn’t want to worry him, or give him any false hopes.”

“You are worried about how he will react.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I am.” Lydia admitted. “But he deserves the chance. I will ask him soon.”

”That’s good. This has been going on for far too long.”

“I know.” Lydia sighed. “But WRU seemed to be the only option, and I would never put Coriander through that.”

“Agreed.” Indira paused, listening to some indistinct loudspeaker announcement in the background. “I got to go. Keep me posted.”

“I will. Thank you again. You are the best!”

Tag List Part 1: @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @whumpzone @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @icannotweave @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards-blog @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning