With Great Power

Anthony | 19 | Writer of whump & hurt/comfort (original and fan stuff) | huge NERD | Coming soon: writing, recommendations, playlists

[blackrosesandwhump]

This or That, Gothic Edition

You know the drill: reblog and bold your preferences.

chained up or forced to wear a straightjacket // stabbed in the shoulder or bitten by a monster // masquerade ball or dinner party // stormy night or winter forest // dungeon or tower // sudden collapse or bandaged up // poisoned or drained of blood // experimented on or bedridden // nightmares or hallucinations // attacked by a monster or transformed into one // betrayal or lost love // castle or cottage // seaside or garden // hanged or strapped down // damsel in distress or ghostly maiden // haunted portrait or haunted mirror // guilt or insanity // immortality or untimely death // thunderstorm or snowstorm // imprisoned monster or angry ghost // laboratory or library // cemetery or portrait gallery // secret cellar or secret attic // hanging chandeliers or melting candelabras // body horror or creature horror // howling wind or eerie silence

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

chained up or forced to wear a straightjacket // stabbed in the shoulder or bitten by a monster // masquerade ball or dinner party // stormy night or winter forest // dungeon or tower // sudden collapse or bandaged up // poisoned or drained of blood // experimented on or bedridden // nightmares or hallucinations // attacked by a monster or transformed into one // betrayal or lost love // castle or cottage //   seaside or garden // hanged or strapped down (no! I won’t pick!) // damsel in distress or ghostly maiden // haunted portrait or haunted mirror // guilt or insanity // immortality or untimely death // thunderstorm or snowstorm // imprisoned monster or angry ghost // laboratory or library // cemetery or portrait gallery // secret cellar or secret attic //   hanging chandeliers or melting candelabras // body horror or creature horror // howling wind or eerie silence

@whump-in-the-moonlight @dont-touch-my-soup I’m scared to tag people I don’t usually tag 👉👈 If you wanna do this, please feel tagged.

[quietly-by-myself-deactivated20]

chained up or forced to wear a straightjacket // stabbed in the shoulder or bitten by a monster // masquerade ball or dinner party // stormy night or winter forest // dungeon or tower // sudden collapse or bandaged up // poisoned or drained of blood // experimented on or bedridden // nightmares or hallucinations // attacked by a monster or transformed into one // betrayal or lost love // castle or cottage // seaside or garden // hanged or strapped down // damsel in distress or ghostly maiden // haunted portrait or haunted mirror // guilt or insanity // immortality or untimely death // thunderstorm or snowstorm // imprisoned monster or angry ghost // laboratory or library // cemetery or portrait gallery // secret cellar or secret attic // hanging chandeliers or melting candelabras // body horror or creature horror // howling wind or eerie silence

The library or lab one was difficult; I find both comforting so preference is difficult. For creatures, I definitely prefer them to look human but have just a little unsettling thing that makes them feel non-human or “off.”

I’ll tag @hold-him-down @peachy-panic @pumpkin-spice-whump and @whumpsday No pressure of course

[hold-him-down]

Oooo ty for tag! 

chained up or forced to wear a straightjacket // stabbed in the shoulder or bitten by a monster // masquerade ball or dinner party // stormy night or winter forest // dungeon or tower // sudden collapse or bandaged up // poisoned or drained of blood // experimented on or bedridden // nightmares or hallucinations // attacked by a monster or transformed into one // betrayal or lost love // castle or cottage // seaside or garden // hanged or strapped down // damsel in distress or ghostly maiden // haunted portrait or haunted mirror // guilt or insanity // immortality or untimely death // thunderstorm or snowstorm // imprisoned monster or angry ghost // laboratory or library // cemetery or portrait gallery // secret cellar or secret attic // hanging chandeliers or melting candelabras // body horror or creature horror // howling wind or eerie silence

I’ll (no pressure) tag: @quote-on-unquote @urban-dark @whump-cravings​ @thecyrulik​

[urban-dark]

:D Thanks for the tag!

(I’m assuming I’m choosing my whump preferences and not necessarily for like- fiction in general..?)

chained up or forced to wear a straightjacket // stabbed in the shoulder or bitten by a monster // masquerade ball or dinner party // stormy night or winter forest // dungeon or tower // sudden collapse or bandaged up // poisoned or drained of blood // experimented on or bedridden // nightmares or hallucinations // attacked by a monster or transformed into one // betrayal or lost love // castle or cottage // seaside or garden // hanged or strapped down // damsel dude in distress or ghostly maiden // haunted portrait or haunted mirror // guilt or insanity // immortality or untimely death // thunderstorm or snowstorm // imprisoned monster or angry ghost // laboratory or library // cemetery or portrait gallery // secret cellar or secret attic // hanging chandeliers or melting candelabras // body horror or creature horror // howling wind or eerie silence

[hold-him-down]

Mess with my OC questions

20 and 24 for Leo

And maybe just maybe 10😇? You pick where,though😅

20. Brand them with a marking of your choice

TW: branding, nudity, noncon touch, vomiting, light med whump, you know.

Notes: A few days into Ivan's contract. All hurt minimal confort.

Table of Contents

✥ ✥ ✥

“Close your eyes,” Ivan says. Leo does, and a scrap of silk is wrapped around them to make sure they stay closed. He hasn’t fully worked out Ivan’s intentions, but in the few days he’s been here, there’s one thing that has been made abundantly clear: obeying is less painful than not. 

He’s been laid out on his belly across the plush sofa; Ivan’s hands rub roughly into shoulders, down his spine. He thinks it feels good? It feels okay. It doesn’t hurt. 

For the last few days, Ivan has admired him. Constantly. He admires the way he walks, the way he speaks. He admires his eyes. He enjoys seeing him cry, Leo thinks. He enjoys hurting him in a way that he’s not sure any of his previous buyers have. He can feel Ivan’s eyes on him now, nearly naked, exhausted, and entirely unaware of what the night will bring.

With the blindfold keeping it dark, Leo listens closer. He can hear, in the distance, someone tending to the fire. He can hear the sound of Ivan swallowing his vodka. Ivan’s fingers press harder into his muscles, drawing out an involuntary gasp as warmth rolls through him. 

“Oh,” Ivan whispers. “I like that.” 

Leo hears the soft clank of the glass hitting the table, and he feels Ivan’s second hand press into his shoulder. Ivan takes his time, encouraging every sound that he draws from Leo. 

His hands move lower, down the small of Leo’s back, working the muscles there, too. It feels undeniably, unarguably, so good. After days of being overworked, it’s near-bliss. But Leo knows that this doesn’t come for free. There’s no chance this comes for free. 

He’s not surprised when Ivan’s hands dip below the waistband of his underwear, pushing them over his hips and further down. He doesn’t encourage it, but he doesn’t fight it. Ivan is going to do whatever he’s going to do, and fighting it will only make it worse. 

He keeps his body as loose as he can, but Ivan doesn’t move as expected. He works his hands across Leo’s skin, down his hips, pressing into sore muscle and whispering his sincerest affections. 

“A little cold,” Ivan whispers, and Leo involuntarily flinches as a wetted cloth is dragged across his skin. But as quickly as it came, it’s gone, and Ivan is back at his shoulders, rubbing gentle circles in the tenderest spots. 

“Hold still,” Ivan whispers, and all the warmth immediately leaves Leo’s body. Ivan’s fingers work their way into Leo’s hair, but it’s not affectionate. It’s restraining. The other keeps working at his neck.

Warning alarms are ringing, and tension coils in Leo’s stomach. “Don’t fucking move.” Ivan’s voice is low, and Leo doesn’t. Instead, he grips into the cushions of the couch on instinct; Ivan’s free arm comes down on his back, pinning him tightly, and an instant later–

Leo screams into the cushion as fire races up his spine, originating at some spot near his hip. His legs kick out against the cushions, his struggle against the pain earning Ivan’s weight forced into his back. He wails, with every bit of air in his lungs, as the metal is held firmly against his skin. He thinks he’s screaming for them to stop(!); he thinks he’s begging, but it’s muffled by the sofa and he can’t comprehend anything beyond the white-hot agony.

He can’t hear what they say over his cries, he only knows they haven’t stopped, and he doesn’t know how long it’s been, but they don’t let up, and he can’t count, and he can’t think, and the pain consumes him. 

✥ ✥ ✥

He comes back to himself in waves. He hears Ivan distantly shushing him, petting through his sweat-soaked hair. He knows little sounds of pain are still forcing their way out of his throat and he can’t stop it. The blindfold catches his tears, and Ivan is back to rubbing his neck, calmly, precisely, and very, very, lovingly, in spite of the forceful tremors that are rolling through him.

“They don’t give a shit,” Ivan is saying, and Leo’s not sure who he’s talking to. There’s a steady, fiery pain still radiating from the spot the metal touched him, and his focuses his attention on one by one releasing his fingers from the cushion. “They don’t love when I permanently mark up government property, but they usually just charge a little extra and let it go. Cost of doing business, you know?”

“I do,” the other man says. He’s somewhere close by, close enough that Leo is ready for whatever he’s going to do. “A little pain, then it’ll cool down,” the man says. Leo flinches, hard, as something is set on the spot that the pain radiates from. The familiar sting of a needle follows, but Leo can’t bring himself to be afraid of what they’ve put into him. There’s relief, almost instantly. The fire dulls.

Ivan’s fingers wrap around his, squeezing lightly. “Fucking perfection,” he says. “A goddam work of art.” He can’t breathe.

“You alright over there?” The man that isn’t Ivan sounds concerned, but everything is swimming and the pain is still coming in waves. He tries to sit himself up, but his arms are shaking too hard, and the men hold him down. He swallows, forcing himself to pull in breath after breath, to slow himself down. “He’s going to throw up,” he hears, a moment before he feels it. 

Hands are on his shoulders, guiding his upper-body off the sofa. Ivan’s fingers press his head down. “Go ahead,” Ivan says, rubbing gently at his neck. Leo does. Over and over, until his stomach is empty and every bit of remaining strength has left his body. And then he dry heaves, held up only by Ivan’s arm under his chest. It doesn’t stop. The pain rolls through him, and every movement is fire. He’s guided back to the sofa, back to lying flat, and his arms give out under him. 

He sobs then, trembling, heaving, covered in spit and tears and sweat. Above him, the hands go back to rubbing at his neck. 

The men talk idly for however long it takes Leo to calm down, to catch his breath, to stop shivering. Ivan sits at his head, petting at his hair, while the other sits at his feet, lightly running his hands down Leo’s calves. 

Leo doesn’t hear what they’re saying. If he’s still, it hurts less, he learns quickly. If he’s still, they don’t pay attention to him. 

What could be minutes or hours later, Leo feels their weight lift from the sofa. The movement draws nothing more than a wince from him, and he swallows. Ivan returns alone, kneels next to him, and presses his lips to Leo’s forehead. He removes the blindfold. In the time it takes Leo’s eyes to open, Ivan has draped a light blanket over his back. “You’ll sleep here tonight,” he says, standing. Leo’s vision blurs around Ivan sitting slowly on the chair across from him, watching him hungrily as he finally, mercifully, loses consciousness.

TAG LIST: @peachy-panic, @whump-cravings @afabulousmrtake @crystalquartzwhump @maracujatangerine @pumpkin-spice-whump @distinctlywhumpthing @thecyrulik @highwaywhump @batfacedliar-yetagain @finder-of-rings @dont-touch-my-soup @skyhawkwolf @suspicious-whumping-egg @also-finder-of-rings @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @prodigal-zoe @melancholy-in-the-morning @urban-dark @nicolepascaline @quietly-by-myself @seasaltandcopper @angstyaches @i-msonotcreative

[urban-dark]

:(!!!!!!!!!

I’m not imagining Leo having to see that mark every time he showers and be forced to remember this for the rest of his life

[cedarbranch]

sometimes the best fanfics are written by middle aged adults with years of writing experience who simply know how to craft a good story. but also sometimes the best fanfics are written by a sixteen year old girl with something deeply wrong with her

[cryoverkiltmilk]

#fandoms need both

[anonymousedward]

#biodiversity

[ladyananas]

trade secret, the middle aged adults with years of writing experience are just the sixteen year old girl with something deeply wrong with her but all grown up

[shywhumpauthor]

You know how a lot of Whumpees have comfort plushies?

Have them rip that plushie out of anger. Pull the stuffing out, kick it across the room. Absolutely destroy it.

And then once Whumpee’s tires themself out, let them feel insanely guilty. Have them pick up the torn pieces of fabric and stuffing and try to put it back together with shaking hands.

Does Caretaker walk in and help calm them down, reassure them that it’s okay, they’re okay. Do they take Whumpee’s hand and squeeze it reassuringly as they gather the sewing kit to fix the plushie?

Or is Whumpee left to fearfully approach Whumper, the ruined toy clutched tightly in their trembling hands, and beg them to fix it?

And how does Whumper respond? Are they so amused by Whumpee’s pitiful display that they choose to stitch up the plush? Do they laugh in Whumpee’s face and decline? Do they rip the plush out of their hands and throw it away?

[hold-him-down]

Does Caretaker walk in and help calm them down, reassure them that it’s okay, they’re okay. Do they take Whumpee’s 

Or is Whumpee left to fearfully approach Whumper, the ruined toy clutched tightly in their trembling hands, and beg them to fix it?

I like the whumpee leaving to fearfully approach the caretaker with it clutched tightly in trembling hands and begging them to fix it :):):)

[urban-dark]

Alternatively: it’s the whumper who rips the plushie apart, right in front of whumpee

[bestrafen-mich]

[hold-him-down]

32. Was there someone there to hold your hand?

this ask thing

"At the sites, if things got really bad, like... to a degree that isn't spoken about, and isn't even legal, sometimes a handler or trainer would." His voice goes distant, and somehow a little softer. "When I was– um, when I was with West, he bought the contract of a second worker somewhere in the middle of my time. He held my hand more than anyone else ever has."

[old-screnwriter-deactivated2022]

why your story matters: because you wrote it

[urban-dark]

Bold of you to assume I wrote it

[albino-whumpee]

Stop hurting yourself to apologize for past mistakes.

—-

Al during the recovery arc being a constant wreck gets me every single time.

[urban-dark]

Your art is so beautifulllll

I love your style 🤌✨ Always an inspiration to me

[a-crumb-of-whump]

Whumpee had never felt so safe, curled up in arms of someone they trusted with their favourite Disney movie playing and a tight, warm blanket wrapped around their body. Caretaker's hand gently smoothed Whumpee's hair back with each head pat they gave, and their lips occasionally left a light kiss on their forehead, soothing them further.

[peachy-panic]

One Night Stand

Part of Do No Harm.

Sometimes a random Sebastian drabble idea will hit me and I have to roll with the punches, no matter how much it hurts my boy. Sorry Tate.

WARNINGS: BBU/BBU adjacent, Sexual content, survivor of sexual assault navigating sex, alcohol & bad coping mechanisms surrounding alcohol, vague references to noncon

Sebastian’s back hits the door before he can even reach for his keys. Beside his head, something comes loose from the impact. He looks down, giggling in the way only someone far past their tolerance can do, as the bronze lettering of his apartment number hits the carpet. Great. He’ll probably have to pay for that. “Shithole apartment,” he tries to mutter, but the words are cut off by fingers on his chin, lifting his face, and a pair of lips crashing over his. He welcomes it.

The man he has brought home from the bar—Joshua? Jared?—is just as drunk as he is, and he wastes no time on pleasantries. Fine by him. His hands are firm against Sebastian’s body, and it’s just what he needs; slipping up under the hem of his sweater and dragging over the soft skin of his stomach, his sides. Sebastian shudders from the January cold that lingers at the tips of his fingers, but he doesn’t push him away until one of the hands dips lower.

“Easy, tiger.” Sebastian clasps around his wrist, extracting the stranger from his waistband. He nods to his neighbor’s door directly across the hall. “Let’s not give eighty-year-old Mrs. Rogers a free show and a heart attack.” He shrugs out of his grasp long enough to unlock the door and push it open.

There is a moment, when they close themselves inside the apartment, where Jake-John-Jordan pulls back to glance around the darkened living room. He raises an eyebrow. “I thought you said you were a doctor?” he says with all the tact of a raisin.

“It’s a short-term lease.” Sebastian bites back, then bites again, physically this time, on his lower lip.

This, at least, succeeds in shutting him up.

Keep reading

[3416]

domestic tarlos | on the couch

[urban-dark]

@hold-him-down I think I forgot to tell you but the Tarlos gif sets on your blog legit sent me into a 911 Lone Star binge-athon and now I’m obsessed with these two, and I kind of forgot it’s all your fault until just now 😂

[whumblr]

Whump prompt #51

Plottwist

Instead of a Whumper forcing Whumpee to sleep in his bed consider:

Whumpee standing in the doorway to Whumper's bedroom in the middle of the night, trembling, asking in a small voice:

"Can I... can I sleep with you? Please?"

[kiodja]

dog

[friendlylocalwhumper]

“Good girl! Oh, you’re so sweet! What a good girl you are.”

Lux freezes where he stands by the entrance to the kindergarten hallway, watching the teacher interact with Penelope. She grins, unaware of the tension in her father.

It’s been years now. Many years of safety. Still, he knows he’s not weak for still being sensitive to… that language. He walks up to the two of them, welcoming his daughter into a hug that she eagerly delivers to his leg.

“Hey there, Ms. Allison.” He wears a brief, polite smile, but it quickly falls. There’s no shame in wearing a serious frown for this. As long as he communicates with friendly body language that he’s not angry. No teacher deserves to be met with anger for trying to be kind to a child, he thinks, mentally defending her even though she’s done nothing to communicate anxiety.

“Hello, Mr. Fortier! It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah, you too. I wanted to… just wanted to let you know that we don’t use that language.”

A practiced phrase. She looks confused, but Lux stands his ground, absentmindedly scooping up Penny’s backpack to hold it for her. It’s too heavy for a little girl to lug around, she should be able to run and jump if she wants.

“What language? I didn’t let slip a grown-up word, did I?” Ms. Allison offers a silly face to Penny and gets a screechy laugh in return. “Sorry. Mr. Fortier, I don’t know what you mean.”

He’s nodding to show he understands her confusion. “Good - good girl. We don’t call Penny a good girl at home. We don’t call her sweet, or praise her for good behavior.”

Now he sounds like a jerk. Still, Lux pauses so the teacher can be skeptical and share her concern, if she’s willing to voice it. It’s not polite to talk over someone who spends her whole day trying to calm and manage a classful of children. “You don’t…? I believe every child deserves to get praise.”

“They do!” He’s quick to agree, and it surprises her visibly. “Of course they do. We tell her good job for specific tasks, like cleaning up her toys or going to bed without a tantrum. We tell her she’s beautiful, that she’s smart, that she’s good at doing things. But we don’t praise her for being a good sweet girl. We don’t praise her for - for being obedient, for doing what she’s told. She’ll obey if it’s expected of her, if she’s not too overstimulated or, or understimulated to listen. If an adult who doesn’t have her best interests at heart tells her to be a good girl and - I don’t want her instinct to be to listen. I want her to feel strong and smart, not compliant. Do you… does that make sense? It’s a small thing, but it’ll shape how she feels about herself. How much she cares about being nice and respectful, instead of just being quiet and getting a pat on the head.”

Ms. Allison watches him intently as he explains. She looks a little thrown off, still, but she seems to decide that he’s really thought this through, and his request is one she can accommodate. “Sure, Mr. Fortier. I can avoid using that language for Penny. She’s so smart and so pretty, I can tell her those things instead.”

Down at Lux’s side, Penelope beams and stomps her feet in excitement at the praise. Her father smiles, too, finally able to relax again. “Thank you so much, Ms. Allison. I appreciate your patience, as always.” She’s sent home detailed notes about Penelope’s great communication skills and manners. She called home to let them know when Penelope was unusually scared and quiet in class and even went out of her way, broke a few rules, to ask if things were okay at home, to imply that she thought there might be some abuse. Lux appreciated that so much that he cried. He happily accepted the pain of being suspected of that, if it meant his daughter was being so fiercely protected at school.

The young teacher nods. “Of course. Have a good weekend, Penny! Can’t wait to have you back at school next week!”

[urban-dark]

Ah I love this! Lux being a dad is the kind of sweet content I needed rn <3

This conflict is so interesting, the lingering trauma Lux still deals with and how it affects different areas of his life and the way he thinks/acts even all these years after. I love that he takes extra care to be mindful of the kind of language his daughter is growing up with and that he’s worked on having the courage to ask others to do the same for her. “I don’t want her instinct to be to listen. I want her to feel strong and smart, not compliant.” AAA the way this is written is just. 👌👌 and the way everything got resolved here felt so satisfying and realistic 🤌🤌🤌

[deluxewhump]

No Harm Will Come To You

(Bloodbag!Carlo post-kidnapping)

A Vampire’s beloved mortal pet is kidnapped by cruel vampires, given permission and emboldened on the orders of his maker, the powerful Vampire Erik Holstrom. The mortal is quietly rescued by Maxim’s long-time Vamp friend, Simon, who will watch over him until he can get there.

CW: bloodbag!whumpee, vampire whumpers, vampire caretakers, blood drinking, abuse, extensive bruising, pet whump, brief allusion to sexual acts or noncon, interrogation, hurt/comfort, whumpee in cage, no choice but to trust caretaker, it as a pronoun intermittently

“Easy, little one.”

Little one, Carlo thought in a dark daze. Who called him little one but his master?’

Keep reading

[urban-dark]

This is SO SADDDD. The “he’s not going to want me anymore” 😟😣 CARLO. And the spike of anxiety when he thinks Simon wants to feed off of him. And that nightmare :(((( I’m so glad Max was there at the end to hold him. My heart needed that. A perfect balance of hurt and comfort.

I fell in love with the Carlo story a long time ago and I’m so happy he’s still around. Usually I’m not interested in vampire stuff but these Carlo vampire AUs of yours are 👌👌👌👌👌 very nice

[grumpycakes]

“Oh Buck”

–

CAUSE THE MOVIE HAD A SERIOUS LACK OF HUGS, AND I NEED HUGS

[peachy-panic]

Strong Luke/Leo vibes. Especially the most recent chapter. @hold-him-down

[argentavis]

lmao get drinked sky