#whumpzone

[newbornwhumperfly]

whumpmas in july day 7: favorite whump fic!

well, i could not possibly just choose a single favorite whump fic from this beautiful community, so i took this prompt's suggestion of making a list! 💖💖💖😍😍😍 (NOTE: please mind these stories' requisite CW's, as some of the content is both good and rough)

~

@much-ado-about-whumping's entire gorgeous Déomas and Rhys series about my beloved Déomas Overbridge is eternally bookmarked in my soul but this installment - Déomas Settles In - really seized me by the throat and never let go 💔😍😭💖

@whumpzone's heartwarming and wrenching Thomas and Rowe series lives in my heart fondly and there's something about the beautiful and haunting final chapter - Thomas and Rowe: The End - that has lived in my head rent-free for years now 😍💖😢

@whump-tr0pes's Honor Bound series is, of course, a community classic and i would die for each and every one of them, with this installment from Honor Bound 5 - Honor Bound 5: 32 (Verbal Abuse) - being a constant reread for me simply due to how utterly devastating "hallucination of loved one saying your worst fears about yourself" is depicted here 😭😭😭

@haro-whumps's Group Whumpees series will always be close to my heart, for all of their characters are my beloveds, and one piece from that series is this chapter - Group Whumpees 6: Breaking Point - because i love me a good devastating misunderstanding that results in a breakdown! 😈🥰🥺

@whumping-every-day, absent but never forgotten, first got me into writing vampire whump with her gloriously brutal Ash and Callum series, of which, this piece - Vampire Whump: New Beginnings - is a favorite still 😰😈🥺

@ashintheairlikesnow, the patron god of whump, has too many iconic pieces in the BBU canon to name here, but the piece where Kauri (my beloved) attempts to write poetry again post-mind-wipe reached directly into my chest in a way very few pieces of writing in recent memory have been able to do, heartbreak and healing hand in hand 💔💔🥺🥺💖💖

~

have a very merry @whumpmasinjuly everyone! 💖

@whumpmasinjuly-archive

[secretwhumplair]

Little thank you/fanart sketch for @whumpzone <3 It's Rowe, happy, healed and wearing the hair clip Luca gave him! It's been a while but I still love their story.

Had the urge to add (organic, free-range, hand-drawn) sparkles which is not an urge one should ever try to resist :D

[whump-blog-reblogs]

I haven't seen much of Dr.Who but I loved this fic you wrote. Can't wait to read more. And I'm glad to see you writing again.

new story :)

pros: new whump writing!

cons: it's for 1960s doctor who (this is also a pro if you're lucky)

slavery / dehumanisation / long-term captivity / feral whumpee (aka he lashes out a lot) / caretaker as the new master / nsfwhump / recovery / basically no knowledge of dr who needed, i promise

if this might float your boat you can find the fic here! <3

[bebx]

pov: you’re in a horror movie

1. create your own look here

2. find out what role you are here

I kind of love the result I got :)

no pressure tags: @foodiewithdahoodie @queereldritch @elhaspowers @gothbower @ohfallingdisco @josephandjamie @josephfakingquinn @johnsimms @cuethemulti @can-of-pringles @loki-is-my-kink-awakening @nebulousfishgills @mimisempai @thelostsisters @lokisgoodgirl @cultofsheep @onesmainbitch @jcbbby @whumpzone @catboysienna @lussiane333 @erdarielthewhumper @abitofboth @galactic-magick @llywenn @chaos-monkeyy @highwarlockofphilly (only if you feel like playing, no pressure or anything 🥰)

if I didn’t tag you and you’d love to join, please don’t hesitate to do so. I’d love to see the results you got. everybody is welcome!

[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

[secretsmutcorner]

Discovery

1,491 words | The dragon’s toy (sequel to Ready)

Content | NSFWhump, explicit non-con, monsterfuckery, blood, implied fighting/violence

Notes | The elf's circumstances... change.

There was always going to be a timeskip but there's a few nice and whumpy pieces still planned between this and the previous one >:) I'll get to them eventually. Also, I thought I had this almost finished and then I almost doubled the wordcount jdsklfla

Taglist | @i-walk-on-the-dark-side @echo-goes-aaa @scoundrelwithboba @whumpzone @saffitaffi (I don't remember you asking to be taglisted but you did ask about this conitnuation specifically so I'll tag you this time <3 let me know)

Spring arrived for the third time.

That afternoon, the dragon was laying in its nest with its hind legs stretched behind it -- a pose bound to look silly in any four-legged beast, but one that allowed it to slam its pubic bone into the elf's clit with more force as it fucked into them; a torture it sometimes employed when it missed the way they had erstwhile winced and whimpered with every thrust. The elf suffered it like they suffered anything, now: knowing that their pain didn't matter, and without tormenting themself with imaginations of how they would like things to be.

Presently, the dragon paused, buried wholly inside their stretched-out cunt, and started grinding against their battered clit, drawing a wail from them like few things did anymore. They knew the dragon enjoyed the way they squirmed and cried and tensed around it, and that was what mattered. That was what they were for. They were a good little toy, avoiding unnecessary pain by bearing the necessary, serving their function, without a fuss.

That was what mattered.

Soon the dragon came, and without pulling out, relaxed on top of them. Unfortunately this meant its weight was now bearing down on their clit by one sharp bone. But why would the dragon move when it was comfortable? Their fingers dug into the blanket beneath them as they sobbed through the agony, waiting patiently for the dragon to start thrusting for another round, or gather itself enough to toss them aside.

It was several long moments before they noticed something entirely else had caught its attention. Through a veil of tears, they saw its head attentively turned towards the entrance of the cave. It sniffed audibly, then it got up, roughly yanking its cock out of them in the movement.

"Go to bed."

It was unusual, but it wasn't their place to question their Lord's orders. "Yes, my Lord."

They stumbled into their alcove without forgetting their stretching toy; in their dark little corner, they knelt over it and worked it back in, making sure not to touch their clit, which they knew would continue throbbing with pain for hours, if not days. They laid down on their back when they were done, arranging their legs apart as comfortably as they managed. The dragon had desired the additional pressure of another large toy thrust up their ass, and it hadn't removed it; even by their standards, they felt unusually full. They were never comfortable with how far the dragon liked them stretched, the toys pressing into sore spots and bruises and overstimulating anywhere that was naturally sensitive into discomfort, though now they understood they ought to be grateful for the care it was taking; but with two overlarge toys, the worst part was the way they cinched their tissue between them.

Yet they suffered it. This was their life.

They heard the dragon growl like it never had before, the sound vibrating through their bones and sending a shiver through them. Somewhere inside them, a small spark of primal instinct begged to flee, but it found nothing to set alight.

They simply stayed where they were, eyes unfocused on the rocky ceiling above them. It meant nothing.

They didn't even try to make sense of the sounds coming from the front of the cave. They had never heard anything like it, the screams and the roars and the clink of metal, but it didn't matter, even if the volume pushed their heartbeat faster.

It didn't matter. The dragon had sent them away not to witness whatever was happening, and soon, they would receive more orders. Or a new, always-same day would begin, and they would know what was expected of them then.

Eventually, the commotion died down.

They stayed where they were. The dragon knew where to find them, could easily pull them from their resting place even, if it wanted to.

They weren't listening hard, but they heard steps out in the cave--steps, and softer metal clinking. It wasn't the dragon's familiar step, either.

It didn't matter. They were just a toy. It didn't matter who was out there, or how they might use them.

When the steps approached their alcove, they worked themself into a crouch to see a large figure step in front of them. An elf, or more likely, by their broad proportions, a human, or something of the sort. They were large and armour-clad, a sword in their hand, red with blood.

The elf had no doubt whatsoever that they could overwhelm them as easily as the dragon could.

Not that they had any reason to put up a fight.

It didn't matter.

*

The monster hunter was familiar with the elation of just having taken down another plague upon the earth. A fully-grown dragon, though -- it felt different. A dragon was the peak of any hunter's career.

They were a dragon slayer, now.

They couldn't be getting too cocky too soon -- they still had to secure the lair, make sure there were no traps or minions left that could endanger them when collecting their rewards, or whoever would be sent to clean up the rest of it afterwards.

The cave was full of treasure -- heaps of gold, precious artefacts, even priceless books. They'd known this. Their promised reward had been as much of the dragon's treasure as they could carry. They were sure the royals expected them to make off with an overfilled backpack of gold like the dumb brute they saw them as, but a friend at the Zutira acadamy had tipped them off about some magical tomes that had gone missing. They could barely read, but it would be enough to identify them and bring them safely to the scholars before they could vanish in someone's private collection.

What they hadn't expected was the sacrifice.

They had heard that there had been one, of course, a few years back. They just hadn't thought they'd still be alive.

Yet when they peered into a dark, filthy alcove, they found someone crouching there -- pale in the dark, stark naked and painfully thin, even for an elf. The elf's skin, from the waist down to the thighs, was wholly black and blue; it was only too clear what the dragon had used them for. More bruises blotted their shoulders, and a few were just scattered about.

The evidence of their suffering was gut-wrenching, and it was eerie enough to recognize that they still maintained some of that mythical elven beauty. But what sent a chill down the hunter's spine was their eyes. They were wholly expressionless, vacant.

The hunter had met victims of monsters before -- a vampire's thrall, various mangled corpses. But they could hardly imagine what abuse the poor thing had endured in the years they had spent here, in the dragon's lair. For a long moment, they were struck silent.

Then they realized they were still standing there with their bloodied sword up. They quickly lowered it, although the elf gave no sign of being afraid.

"You're safe now," the hunter finally blurted out. "Are you -- is there anyone else around here?"

"No, my Lord." Their voice was as expressionless as their eyes.

The hunter suddenly realized they should probably stop staring. "Here-" They pulled off their cloak and handed it over before they could think about what they had just heard. Lord?

The elf accepted the cloak and threw it over their shoulders, but made no move to wrap it around themself and cover themself. They just crouched there, looking to the hunter -- not into their eyes, but in their general direction, expecting -- what?

"Can you... walk?"

"Yes, my Lord." They stood up in janky, painful motions, but they didn't hesitate for a moment to walk towards them, as instructed.

The hunter led them out into the main cave. The light of the sinking sun was even more unforgiving, revealing the deep rings under their eyes, the dullness of their silver hair, the strange bump in their otherwise too-flat belly.

It took the hunter a moment too long to realize what it was; then a bout of nausea overcame them.

"You- you can take that out now, you know?"

"Yes, my Lord." Without a flinch, the elf crouched down again and pulled out of their battered body a dildo that looked far too big to ever have fitted in there.

And then another.

The hunter couldn't look.

The dragon's body laid just outside the cave's mouth. They had looked at it with the hatred reserved for monsters before, but now-

They weren't usually glad for the killing. It needed to be done, and they were good at it; that was all. But looking at the dragon now, they felt themself filling with grim joy at its death.

The elf stepped forward on unsure legs. Their eyes were fixed on the dragon, too.

The hunter couldn't begin to imagine what was going through their head.

[whumpsoda]

what are your favorite whump series? any recommendations?

I just adore all of these series so much they all have a super duper special place in my heart :3

Rare Bookseller by @oliversrarebooks

Any of @sowhumpshaped’s series

Both the kennel and behavior modification by @whumpcereal

Linden and Colton by @whumpzone

Worthless by @livelaughwhump

Little Hunter by @foresttheblep

Kane & Jim by @whumpsday

Any of @ashintheairlikesnow’s series

Ambrose and Elliot by @echo-goes-mmm

The Palette by @squishablesunbeam

Any of @oddsconvert’s series

The American Dream is Killing Me by @tired-of-being-nice

The Last Lab Rat by @whumpy-wyrms

[motherfricker]

if there are 1000 snow lover i am one of them. if there is 1 snow lover that is me. if the world is against snow i am against the world. if there are no snow lovers, i am dead

Plzplzplz ur villain whumpee writings give me life and I want morreee

omg ya ur ask 💀 no I will write it promise 😭

[hurtfortea]

Whumpuary Day 6

Share your favorite whump creations! Others or yours.

(In no particular order we have…)

@ashintheairlikesnow's

Daniel Michaelson’s Story

Jameson’s story

What Makes a Monster

Erase to Control

Death Valley (AO3)

@ashintheairlikesnow and @comfy-whumpee's

The Motherfucking Gallaghers

@peachy-panic's

Do No Harm

Fifty-Eight Days

BBU Hollywood

@hold-him-down's

Belleview

The Fighter

@whumpzone's

Tomas and Rowe

@whumpsday's

Kane and Jim

@whumblr's

Bookish

Home is Where the Hurt Is

@redwingedwhump's

Guard Dog: David

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Riot Kings, page 138

prev next

@appy-polly-loggies , @shydragonrider , @professional-idiocy , @burtlederp , @unicornscotty, @whumpwillow , @transjenderdeanjail , @bliss7575-blog , @grizzlie70 , @whatwhumpcomments , @madrono-but-i-am-not-a-fruit , @whumpzone ,. @maracujatangerine , @whump-em , @crystalquartzwhump , @outofangband @onlywhump , @badluck990 , @kixngiggles , @whumpacabra , @whumpy-catfish , @throwawaywhumper , @dont-touch-my-soup , @uvanuva , @kiichu , @dreamsofwhump , @valiantphantomturtle , @voidviewer-blog , @whumpsday , @kira-the-whump-enthusiast , @poorlittlekittycat , @finaldreams1106 , @slimesheep , @redwhump , @apokolyps , @wolfeyedwitch , @emmanemanem, @briars7 , @stuffmyfriendssay , @stuck-in-this-mortal-form , @whumpedydump , @fleur-alise , @basica11ywhumped , @hold-back-on-the-comfort , @withdrawingramen , @daddy-cowgirl-boots @sodacreampuff , @shywhumpauthor , @caughtinthera1n , @distinctlywhumpthing , @randomlifeunit ,

[newbornwhumperfly]

whumpmas in july day 19: fav whump blogs

aghhhh, i've been so excited for this day because i get to celebrate this beautiful, talented community!!! 💖😍💖😍💖 rubs my little gay hands together gleefully...

@much-ado-about-whumping because they can settle into a character's headspace like its his home, building the beautiful furniture of reaction, justification, trauma, interests, and calculations around that space until each hurt feels like watching the hammers being taken to the boards of a beautiful house. his compassion for his characters is what makes them full, rich, and realized, in all of their crystals and cobwebs, their windows and cellars, and the gift they give to their readers is the ability to feel how they feel and what they feel as surely as if you lived in that house. 💖

@whump-tr0pes because every character they write is jagged and flawed with broken edges, no easy answers or clean lines, where most all of them have hurt and been hurt, they still can get better. when their stories, as langston hughes says, “cuts the world in two to see what worms are eating at the rind”, there are also seeds and despite the worms, maybe even because of the worms, a new tree is planted. their stories say that love and hope and trying are never ever wasted, no matter how ugly or cruel people get or the world becomes. even with worms, nothing is worthless or unable to grow and change. 💖

@haro-whumps because their stories often bear a sharp edge of dark camp, pulpy and vivid, the absurd in the nature of horror itself which, through all of their macabre delights, reveals so often a person just trying to carve out a pocket of stability. the effort reveals the world they live in as absurd. through forging relationships with fellow sufferers, through dutifulness, through healing or maintaining dignity or helping others, there is always a trying at the heart of their characters to make the impossible possible. their villains and victims, whether it’s “i’m a god” or “i’m just a slave”, are all just people at the end of the day, stupid and messy and layered, a thing that horror at its best employs to make its subjects more lovable and more hateable. 💖

@whumpzone because her sense of tenderness serves the underlying traumas in her stories. since most of the horror lies in the pasts of these characters, it is always mind-blowing how well the characters reactions and bodies tell a story about what happened to them, from how they react to the gentle efforts of their caretakers or a perceived harm, so often these boys will break your heart through how thoroughly beaten-down they are and how obvious it is when they don't expect to be safe anywhere. the utter humanity with which the whumpees are treated highlights their past dehumanization all the more and that linearity in storytelling is so damn effective. 💖

@ashintheairlikesnow because what is there to say about her that hasn't been said ad nauseam by writer after writer in this community, for every aspect of her writing? so what i will restrain my praise to the specifics and say that her world-building is a rare and beautiful talent. her worldbuilding serves the themes of her story at every single turn, the tapestry of horror that capitalism wrecks on the world and the shape of the tools trying to cut those threads. there is no corner unexplored in the halls of institutions - she shows us exactly how fucked things are and the manual for how its done. never stop writing because i am hard pressed to remember a dystopia that felt so immediate and so realized. 💖

there is so much talent on whumblr that i could name bloggers all day, these authors just happen to be at the top of my list. your brilliance awes and inspires me and pushes me to higher standards with every new read and reread 🥰🥰🥰

have a very merry @whumpmasinjuly everyone! 💖💖💖

@whumpmasinjuly-archive

[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.

[newbornwhumperfly]

eeeeeeee more of my boys!!! 😩💖😍

@whumpzone i am absolutely in love with this concept??? it fits with our beloved colton so well and it’s so clever how you make our sweet boy feel just as vulnerable somehow when he’s a literal *bodyguard* as when he’s physically crushed 🥺🥺🥺

dude, my heart melted during the scene where colton is panicking in the kitchen, the tension and the resignation were so good?? just!!! so many gorgeous lines, especially “Col was strong but the belt could still make him howl” 😭😭😭

and “he’d be a big brave dog for this. Guard dogs didn't feel fear- they didn't feel anything. Col didn't feel anything.” 😭😩😭 AGHHHH. i felt very much like Vik in this moment of just wanting to give him a reassuring hug 🥺

when you’ve read the brilliant vampire AU where vik hits colton, this protectiveness hits different 😩😩😩

god, it’s lovely to see your writing again friend, this was so delightful 💖💖💖

Linden & Colton - Guard Dog AU

(masterpost)

exactly what it says on the tin! as you may know I've not written in months so I'm super super happy that I enjoyed this and got it done!!

CW: pet whump, dehumanisation + dehumanising language

-

The guard dog had been taken in. Everyone at the shelter was shocked, but none more shocked than the pet himself. Even better than that, he had been named. He was Col now, or sometimes Colton. He had figured that Col was the nicer, more affectionate version, but his new Master used it all the time, so perhaps he’d misinterpreted. Humans named all sorts of possessions, from plants to cars to, it seemed, guard dogs. Col happily accepted the gift.

The second he laid eyes on his owner, Col felt every ounce of loyalty he possessed being placed squarely at this man’s feet. He would be a worthwhile purchase, and protect his Master no matter what.

Master had come as a bit of a surprise at first, when Col was taken from the dog shelter to his home. He didn't look like the kind of person to make much use of a guard dog. Col stayed up all night, watching for threats, but Master's entire road was as peaceful as the man himself. The worst he'd ever seen was a few teenagers letting off fireworks.

Everything was just... a bit strange, with this new Master. He didn't have any heavy weights, no punching bag, nothing to keep Col strong. He never doled out punishments, never made sure Col knew where his devotion was placed. Col knew anyway, he was a good boy after all, but he thought all Masters needed to enforce it. His old owner had talked a lot of weak minds and needing to keep the lesson fresh. Clearly Colton's new Master had quite a bit more trust in him.

Which was weird, considering Col was a stray. But it made him all the more determined to prove himself.

Col made sure to keep busy during his otherwise unnaturally quiet new life: he lifted plastic bottles of milk for hours until his arms finally gave out; he filled a suitcase with books and squatted with it; he recited his rules at night, fighting off sleep, fighting off complacency. He spent the daylight hours pacing the house unless Master told him to calm down, which he soon realised was an order to come and kneel by his side.

The day Col fucked everything up was a day the same as any other to begin with. Master had gone shopping without him, like Col was useless, and that always made him frenetic with anxiety. He had begged, knelt with his head to the floor, to accompany him, to do his job and keep his owner safe, but Master had refused. I'll be fine, Col, he'd said softly, and then as a follow up, you can guard the house, right?

Col had done step-ups at the bottom of the staircase to try and work through his wasted energy, and when that hadn't worked, he'd stared out of the kitchen window like a hawk, every wail of an ambulance siren or police van sending his mind spiralling downwards. By the time Master returned unharmed he was a nervous wreck (utterly unfit for a guard dog, no wonder he wasn't allowed out) and he'd thrown himself at his owner's feet in relief. He knew what a wonderful rush of power his old owner had got from such an imposing pet cowering below him, and Col hoped Master might want to take him out next time, keep that feeling of power going.

In the present, Col was dutifully following Master's order to do some yoga.

The cat, Jaffa, was doing her own set of stretches alongside him, something that pleased Master greatly.

The sound of the front door unlocking pulled him from his meditation. Someone was trying to get in, Col realised, with a burst of aggression.

He sprang up like a startled animal and ran into the hall, but he still wasn't fast enough: the stranger was inside. Col noted a lean, strong build, with no obvious weapon, and tried to plan accordingly in the split second before he collided into him. He grabbed the human roughly by the shoulders and slammed him against the back of the door, letting his head crack against it with the momentum. Not enough to do any real damage, just to make him see stars. He wasted no time in pressing one forearm against his neck, letting it sit snugly against the windpipe, tight with pent up force. There was no mistaking that if he needed to press harder, he would. His other hand stayed gripping the man's shoulder, holding him in place.

'Who are you," he growled.

"Whoa! F-fuck, Linden! Get off me you crazy bastard!" the man shouted, but there was a smile on his face, which only made Col angrier.

Before he could bark his question again or tell the man to shut up, his Master appeared, running over to them. Col bent his head just enough to see both him and the intruder- he had been trained that dealing with a threat was not an excuse to ignore his owner.

The intruder gasped in what sounded like a sigh of relief, or a strained laugh. Col was still pushing on his throat.

"Mate, get off me," he said, and it was infuriating that he didn't seem at all bothered by Col's presence. Col had the upper hand, didn't he? Was there something he didn't know? Maybe this man did have a weapon concealed somewhere?

"I take orders from my Master only," Col replied, and hoped he would get one.

"Let him go, Col," Master said, "and come over here, please."

He obeyed instantly and moved to stand behind his Master's left shoulder, arms folded, glaring at the stranger. Hoping he knew that it would only take one wrong move for Col to knock his lights out.

He expected Master to tell the man to get the fuck out of his house; Colton was more than a little confused when the stranger instead threw one arm out for a hug, and Master leaned in happily.

"Hey Vik."

"Hey. Nice bodyguard you've got there."

"I'm sorry about that. Col," he turned to face his dog, "this is Vik. My brother."

His brother?

Oh, fuck.

All the blood drained from his face and he actually flinched back, his arms unfolding and instead resting hesitantly by his side. Now wasn’t the time for him to look dangerous.

He looked between the two men. Their physical similarities were suddenly glaringly obvious.

Col had fucked up. He'd fucked up and he didn't know how to make it better. He'd just tried to choke Master's brother for god’s sake, and Col was strong, sure, but he still howled when the belt was used on him, or when his owner had held his lighter to Col's arm, or when his back was slashed open and his owner kicked him between the shoulder blades. He was going to have to pay dearly for this.

"-hear me? Col? Hey, hello?"

Col blinked. His mind had wandered- a bad habit he never shook off despite hours of training. Master and his brother were stood together, eyeing him.

He pulled himself together enough to curl his hands against his heart and bow in submission.

"I'm so sorry for my mistake, Sir, it was unforgiveable, and I'm sorry," he said, forcing the words out mechanically. He didn't sound remorseful in the slightest, and he'd said he was sorry twice, it sounded stupid. His panic was starting to seep through. "I didn't know, b-but that's no excuse, and, and I'll take any punishment you see fit."

The sentence was familiar, and Col managed to dig deep for some composure. He'd be a big brave dog for this. Guard dogs didn't feel fear- they didn't feel anything. Col didn't feel anything. He straightened up, but kept his head bowed, and listened to his heart pounding in his ears. He waited to see if Vik was the type to show mercy.

Master spoke first. "No, it's okay. Just a misunderstanding, right? Vik has a key, so that's how he just appeared-"

"Hey, stop giving me evils."

"-and you were just doing what you thought was right, Col."

Col looked up slowly. Master seemed to be waiting for a response.

"What I did was unforgiveable," he tried, the panic smothering his thoughts. He had to get this right and he just didn't know how- except through pain. "I promise I'll take my punishment well, Sir, very well."

He saw Vik's eyes widen as he tried to catch Master's gaze, but it stayed fixed on Col.

"Well... you could apologise to Vik, I suppose, for- for-" Master's words were eaten up in an outburst of laughter. Col's fear took a sharp, and weird, left turn. What the fuck? "I’m sorry, I just can't believe you almost bollocked my older brother, that’s fucking hilarious!”

"Stop laughing!" Vik snapped, giving Master a mild shove that made Col bristle. "Or go do it while making me a cup of tea."

"Sorry, I'm sorry, haha, I'll leave you two alone for two seconds, I'm gonna-"

Master put a hand to his mouth to contain his laughter, and breezed past Col towards the kitchen, giving him a pat on the shoulder as he went. Master figured this was all a big joke, then.

Left alone with Vik. That would be Master's strategy, and Col figured it was more than fair. Vik had been the offended party.

He was about to lower himself to his knees, but Vik reached out a hand, stopping Col. He tensed just a fraction, no more than that: he wasn't allowed to mitigate pain.

"Fair play, mate, you were very quick. Good form, too. Got the jump on me like that." Vik snapped his fingers, making Col stiffen even more. "But we can be cool now, yeah? Now you know my face. You'll probably see me a lot, I come round all the time. So let's put this behind us and shake on it like two gents."

Col realised why Vik's hand was held out.

He thought about protesting for half a second- his old owner had always reminded him how dirty he was- but the last thing he wanted to do was look like he was buying time.

Vik would probably grab his hand and pull him down, try to throw him to the floor. Col didn't think he had the strength, so he prepared to fake it.

The handshake was the most human thing Col had ever done. Vik did pull, but towards him, and not in the rough way Col had expected. He'd forced himself to go so limp that he almost stumbled into him- he caught himself at the last moment and stood still, grazing Vik's shoulder.

"My brother's a really good man," he said, and Col was sure he knew the threat that would follow it up. So if you make one wrong move, I'll break you.

But instead, Vik's voice stayed low, and calm, with no hardness that Col could discern. There was even a smile on his face. "You're gonna be fine here."

. . .

"You're gonna be fine here," he said, doing his best to use his inside voice because he couldn't let Linden hear him being nice about him for once.

And also because the big guy still holding his hand seemed shit-scared already.

Vik had a damn good view being so near to him: Colton's face was absolutely littered with scars. That was meant to be a bad sign when it came to guard dogs- meant they were volatile or picked fights constantly. Vik wasn't so sure. He'd backed off the minute Linden intervened, and Linden had already told Vik that Colton was clearly terrified of him, even though he tried to hide it. Standing with him now, Vik reckoned he wasn't hiding it very well at all. He could feel Colton's heartbeat thrumming from his wrist like a drum.

He briefly imagined a scene in the far future, when Linden's gamble had worked out and this man was alright again, where the three of them were hanging out together, where they were all close friends. Vik would tease him for the time they first met, when Col had tried to chuck him straight back out onto the street. Linden would probably make some joke that he should’ve gone through with it. They’d all laugh – Col would be laughing hardest of all.   

Right now, Vik felt like laughing wasn't a physical possibility for Colton.

"Please punish me as you see fit, sir," Col replied, just as quietly.

"Ahh, well," Vik said brightly, giving Col a pat on the shoulder - making him flinch - and drawing back to a normal distance. His voice raised with it, giving his brother a hint that all was okay. "You weren't to know. No harm done."

Except for the back of my head which hurts like fuck, but whatever, I don't want this guy to start grovelling.

Col looked at him, his frown loosening a little bit. “Really, sir? You’d give me mercy?”

Ew. “Er, yeah, man. We’re cool.”

Linden’s voice came from the kitchen, accompanied by the sharp rings of a teaspoon being tapped against the rim of a mug, shaking off the final drops. “Tea’s ready!”

Col looked at Vik, waiting for something- instruction, probably. Vik gestured forward. “After you, mate.”

. . .

The rest of Vik’s visit passed without incident. The two brothers settled on the sofa so fluidly that Col got the impression they both sat in the exact same place every time. He felt overwhelmed with shame and apprehension as his mistake replayed in his mind. Running at Vik and pinning him to the wall, snapping at him, intending to hurt him. His Master must feel so embarrassed to have such a poorly-behaved pet.

Col knelt behind his owner and stared at nothing, keeping his back straight and his ears on the world outside. Occasionally the cat threatened to distract him with her purring and big eyes, but Colton didn’t allow himself to enjoy the sight of her. She wasn’t for his enjoyment, anyway.

“Come to mine next time, yeah?” Vik asked.

“Sure, it’s been a while. That’d be nice.”

“Alright, well I’ll head off. Nice to meet you, Col.”

Vik’s face appeared in Col’s peripheral vision, and Col looked over, giving him a nod and looking to his owner for permission to speak.

When his Master gave him an encouraging smile, Col said quietly, “Nice to meet you, sir. I’m sorry again.”

“It’s alright, Col,” Master said, reaching down and giving Col’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. Col flinched that time, too. The shame only twisted deeper in his guts. Master turned back to his brother. “I’ll wave you off.”

“You’re always keeping me out of trouble, aren’t you,” replied Vik with a wry smile.

. . .

Linden didn’t have to catch Vik before he walked out the door – they clearly both wanted to have a debrief. Their chat had been more than a little stifled with Colton kneeling right there, ramrod straight, his eyes wide and unfocused. Vik bent to put his shoes back on and stared up at Linden with a face that said what the fuck.

“Yeah,” Linden whispered. “Someone’s clearly done a number on him. Did he hurt you?”

“No, no,” Vik said, unconvincingly. “It was funny anyway. But he really is fierce when he wants to be.”

“At least I know he’s… loyal, now. Not that I took him in to be loyal. Or violent. Ah well.”

“I know, but I get it, it’s good to know he doesn’t want to use any of that strength against you. You’re safe as anything as long as he’s around.”

“Bless him. He’s so nervous all the time. He won’t even pet Jaffa.”

“You’ve got this, mate,” Vik said sincerely. “He’s still new. Maybe you’ve gotta be a bit more clear with things. Next time he looks at Jaffa, just tell him to go and pet her.”

“I’ll try. You should still come round whenever, I’ll tell him not to worry about you.” The thought of Vik almost having his ass handed to him made Linden’s lips curl up again. “Maybe buy a helmet for next time just in case.”

“Oh shut up, I could still batter him and you, you better not start thinking I’m soft. I’ll see you later. And buy him some weights or something, for god’s sake. He’ll go crazy otherwise.”

Linden laughed as Vik headed off. When he walked back into the lounge, Colton was still kneeling. Of course he was – Linden hadn’t ordered him to do anything else.

“Uh…I’m glad you’ve met my brother. Please don’t fret about earlier, Col. You’re genuinely not in trouble. Vik wasn’t mad in the slightest.”

Col didn’t move except to cast his eyes towards Linden’s face. It made him look creepy, like a mannequin. “Thank you, Sir. It won’t happen again. Thank you for this mercy.”

“It might be helpful to mark Vik as someone who’s completely trusted, you know. You don’t have to be afraid when he’s around. You don’t have to be… on high alert. He’s not going to do anything.”

. . .

Col nodded. If Vik made a move to attack, it would be for him, never his Master. Col wasn’t to fight back. “I understand, Sir. Thank you.”

-

taglist part 1:

@newbornwhumperfly @whumpadump1939 @firewheeesky @whump-me-all-night-long @captain-seconds @grizzlie70  @unicornscotty @lave-whump @princessofonwardsworld  @cupcakes-and-pain  @bumbumbea @whumpfigure  @yet-another-heathen  @secretwhumplair  @whumps-up  @as-a-matter-of-whump  @getyourwhumphere  @itzagoodthing @whumpymirages @soapparentlyilikewhumpnow @the-monarch-whumperfly  @penny-for-your-whump  @briars7  @legallylibra @angel-stars  @loyds-of-registry @tears-and-lilies  @badluck990  @rosesareviolentlyread  @vickytokio  @neuro-whump  @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight  @whumpsy-daisies  @control-whump  @theydy-cringeworthy  @starnight-whump @cursedandtired  @jo-doe-seeking-inspo  @justabitofwhump  @glamrockgregory  @rippedjeansandfadeddreams  @genesissane  @justbreakonme  @addyez @httyd-chocolate  @littlespacecastle  @haro-whumps  @extrabitterbrain @neverthelass  @downrivergirl914

[whumpy-writings]

Of Vampires and Men Map!

So back when I started OVAM I drew a very basic map to help me figure out where things were. I'm talking blobs and stars on important places. It was functional, but not pretty. Well, my sister agreed to turn my chicken scratch into an actual masterpiece! Behold, the world of Pyrne!

I literally almost cried when she showed me the finished map. It's so cool to see the world I've been playing around in for years finally take shape. This is of course only one part of the entire planet. The story thus far has taken place mostly in Torin and Lucia, but I have plans. Big plans. Book 2 is going to take place partly in Enrone, which is going to be super fun. There will also be vampire pirates.

And now for some shameless self promotion:

Cry of Fangs is coming out next Tuesday, March 26! If you purchase the paperback or ebook and fill out the form below, I'll send you a postcard of this beautiful map as a thank you gift. https://forms.gle/x7GNB9Lh1LY9r5Bg8

Preorder Cry of Fangs here!

Grab a signed paperback!

Thank you so much for showing my angsty vampire boys so much love. Even if you can't purchase a copy of the book, know that I appreciate every single like, reblog, and comment. I hope to have some more free chapters up on tumblr soon.

Tagging the OVAM squad: @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whump-cravings @thecyrulik @neverthelass @michelleswhumpyreblogs @whumpsy-daisy @the-monarch-whumperfly @aswallowimprisoned @secretwhumplair @whumpzone @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @nicolepascaline @susiequaz12 @pumpkin-spice-whump @wiwinia @sunflower1000 @whump-blog @melancholy-in-the-morning @suspicious-whumping-egg @whumpsday @ceph-the-ghost-writer @inkkswhumpandstuff @whumpycries @quietly-by-myself @darlingwhump @whumpshaped @dragonqueenslayer6

[maracujatangerine]

89. Leaving

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

Coriander was still a bit unsteady when he walked out through the main entrance of the hospital, arm in arm with Lydia and Indira. His long blonde hair intermingling with Lydia’s brown and Indira’s black locks.

The cold air of the overcast winter’s afternoon enveloped them. Lydia took a deep breath in relief.

Leaving the hospital had been undramatic. Indira had changed into her private clothes and wore black jeans with a marine and white knitted woollen jumper. With combined efforts, they had helped Cory change into a dusky orange t-shirt and dark grey joggers. Then, they had just wheeled Coriander to the entrance, left the wheelchair in its designated place, and helped the young man to walk away.

There was no reason for anyone to react. Cory seemed a little bit dizzy, still, but that was hardly out of place at a hospital. His bandaged arm poking out from the sleeve of his black jacket clearly marked him out as a patient, even without the hospital gown. Still, Lydia felt an immense sense of relief as the automatic doors swished closed behind them.

After walking the short distance to Indira’s car, they both helped the pet into the back, behind the driver’s seat. Lydia reached over and buckled Cory’s seat belt for him before closing the door. India sat down in the front and Lydia walked around the car to sit next to Cory in the back.

Both women sighed when they closed the car doors.

“Oh my god.” Lydia laughed. ”That was… something. Good that you are quick at thinking on your feet, Indira!”

Indira nodded, closing her eyes for a second, then smiling at them both.

“It was… a bit more intense than expected. But we got clean x-rays.” She playfully hit the wheel of the car in triumph. “Still a success, I’d say!”

Lydia turned solicitously towards Coriander.

“How are you doing, love? I’m so sorry that it was difficult for you. You were very brave.” She nodded to emphasise her words. “How are you feeling now?”

“T-this pet i-is fine, Miss Lydia.”

Coriander did not look fine. His eyes were still red from crying. He still shivered with long, drawn-out tremors shaking his whole body in an undercurrent of fear. Lydia and Indira had felt him shaking on the way to the car, and the shivers did not seem like they were going to let up any time soon.

“It is all over now. Let’s just go home and take it easy, yeah?” She smiled encouragingly. “I’m very proud of you, and I would like to spoil you for a bit. Maybe we can watch a movie and have a bit of cake, or what do you say?”

“M-maybe t-this pet would like to r-rest for a while.”

“That sounds good. Maybe you can have a little nap?”

Lydia studied Coriander. The lines of pain around his eyes and mouth that had faded over the long time that they had spent together, were once again visible. His face was pale. He looked worn out to the bone. She could see the shivers racking his body, making his hands shake. His hair fell down, covering his eyes. Gently, she reached out to smooth away those tresses, wanting to pet her hand over his hair to calm him.

Coriander jerked away.

Lydia started in surprise.

Grey eyes met hers for a moment, then Cory lowered his gaze.

Very quietly, he spoke.

“P-please, Miss Lydia. T-this p-pet cannot bear to be touched… to be touched right now.”

“Oh.” Lydia slowly let her hand fall. “S-sure.” She said. “That’s totally fine. Whatever feels best for you.”

Indira watched in the rear-view mirror, a sudden, sinking feeling in her stomach.

Coriander sat as far away towards the door as possible. He looked out through the window with a totally impassive face, emotionless and beautiful like a doll.

On the other side of the car, Lydia also looked out the window. She didn’t make a sound, but Indira could see her biting her lower lip hard to keep it from shivering. Her brown eyes wide and blank with tears.

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

[secretsmutcorner]

Ready

958 words | The dragon’s toy (sequel to Moonlight)

Content | NSFWhump/non-con, punishment, forced to work, degradation, mention of: spanking

Notes | The elf is ready! Ya... y...

Taglist | @i-walk-on-the-dark-side @echo-goes-aaa @scoundrelwithboba @whumpzone

If the elf had thought their captivity had been miserable, it was nothing to what they were living through now.

When they moved through the lair as they cleaned--always much to the dragon's amusement--they were in agony, from the bruises covering their whole body, from the way they were stuffed far too full. At times they had to pause, their body failing them, they couldn't move, they couldn't breathe past the thing stuck on their throat--but the dragon gave them no grace, punishing them each time. When it pinned them on their belly to spank them, the pressure put on the toy was almost worse than the hits.

In the morning and evening, the dragon would briefly take the extra toys out to allow for their body's needs--and to use their mouth, of course--but all it really did was force them to experience the horror of having them shoved in over and over again. And still, it replaced the toy in their cunt with a bigger one each time, when they couldn't take it as it was they couldn't take it-

It had only been a few days, but the elf felt like they were losing their mind. They would do anything, they would be anything if it meant even a little relief.

"Come here, toy."

Desperately, they crawled over to the dragon who sat comfortably in its blanket nest. Maybe now was the moment it would grant them a shred of comfort instead of more suffering. They could only hope.

When they came within reach, the dragon grabbed them and set them before itself, clearly too impatient to tolerate their aching pace. It eyed them up for a moment, then, purring, it opened the chastity belt and painfully yanked the toy out of their cunt.

"I think you're ready, little toy."

They took a moment to process that, their mind swimming in the relief of having the thing out, then an ice-cold wave of terror washed over them. No - they couldn't-

The dragon pulled the other toy from their ass just as roughly, then it undid their gag, too. It should have been a relief.

They hadn't even be able to unlock their aching jaw before it continued, "If you're good, we may leave these out for now, hm?"

Any desperate argument or plea died in their throat, even if they had managed a sound, of which they were uncertain. Only silent tears fell from their eyes.

The dragon ignored them, of course. It laid down halfway, and stuck them between its hind legs, sitting dog-like on the blankets, where its erect cock was already waiting. It looked as terrifyingly oversized as ever. They couldn't, they didn't want to-

But they remained silent as the dragon slung their legs over its scaly thighs, lifting their hip off the ground towards it, and then, without further ado, slammed into them.

They screamed.

The last few in the series of toys had already pressed painfully against the top of their hole, but having it hammered into, over and over, was so much worse. The entirety of the movement was unbearable--they felt raw within moments around the heat of its cock, the force of it stretching them out further. Their strained, beaten body was shifted back and forth against the ground with the force of the dragon's thrusts.

They wanted to beg, wanted to howl, wanted to let the no no no caught on their tongue stream from their lips. But they didn't. If you're good...

They would do anything.

They simply sobbed as it went on, and on, and on. As it sunk into them, past the pain, that the dragon was inside them now, had terminally invaded them and would never leave them wholly. That a tiny part of them had clung onto the misguided notion that everything that had happened wasn't the real thing... not like this. That there was no escape in this, even in their mind.

The dragon purred. "You are perfect for this. What a good little cocksleeve." A deeper, throatier growl mixed into their voice. "This is what you're for, toy."

It came into them, their seed seeping into them, and they sobbed and sobbed. By now, they knew better than to expect this would be the end of it, and indeed, it didn't pull out; it stayed where it was, stretching out their cunt, unbearably hot and heavy against their open folds, which they were sure would bruise by the pain of its hips battering into them.

Then it continued.

They had, they felt, lost their mind by the time it finally ended. They could not say how long it had taken; they barely found themself, there on the floor. The dragon pulled out roughly, leaving cum to seep out between their legs, too-hot and clinging to their thighs like they would never be without the dragon's residue again.

The dragon stretched, purring. "What a perfect toy you make. You may clean yourself up before you put that back in, but don't dally."

Something heavy dropped onto their belly, still aching from the battering it had received from within.

The toy it had used to stretch them out.

They couldn't move before the dragon grabbed them by the hip and shoved them towards where they had abandoned their cleaning bucket. "I said, don't dally. Get back to cleaning, toy."

They moved, fear puppeteering their limbs. They couldn't take any more.

They didn't know how to even begin cleaning themself. They would never be clean again.

Whatever they were doing took to long. It was the dragon who shoved their toy back into them, into their wrecked and sore cunt. Maybe they screamed.

"Get to work, toy."