A/N: Happy pride month 2026 🏳️🌈 For this month I was thinking to challenge myself writing for Chelsea, Corin and Renata and perhaps even the queens. I will focus on wlw ships but if you have something in mind, just ask! In July I will then focus on all the men from the guard.
Smut and dark themes are welcome. If you are unsure, my inbox is open for questions ❤️
This means you can just send in requests. I will write drabbles and make moodboards. I have a few ideas myself as well. This post will be a masterlist for all drabbles I write this month!
The vampire/general supernatural creature trait I'm the biggest fan of is 'can't enter homes without permission.' There are so many ways for different stories to play it out and it can lead to a lot of fascinating (and fun!) scenarios. For example, the classic questions: What constitutes a 'home'? Does crossing your fingers behind your back or other cultural symbols of lying have an effect while telling a vamp to come inside? Is an invitation a matter of intention, or purely a matter of speech? If so, then how do vampires use word play and other tactics to try and trick a human into inviting them in? And what happens when they to enter anyway? Is it like a brick wall barring entry, or more of a forcefield tossing them a few feet back? Do they get extremely ill, lose their cool powers and become only human, start having a convulsive fit, set on fire, explode? What happens when their invitation is at first granted, then revoked while they're in the house? Immediate burning agony, immediate teleportation outside, or an uncontrollable compulsion in the vamp's mind to find a way to get out as fast as they can? (I'm imagining a vampire having their invite be revoked while they're on the 20th floor of an apartment building and maybe in the middle of biting someone's neck, only to in another second have shattered the window and be plummeting down to the streets below like a - if it's daytime - fiery comet. Here's hoping they're the type that can turn into a bat!)
Edit: I didn't even mention the implications if vampires also have the same effect of being outside in sunlight that they have of entering a home without permission. Implying that the owner of the concept of daytime/the sun has not invited vampires in, though the owner of the night has. If there are deities of Night and Day, then it makes for nice God worldbuilding!
Human caretaker doesn't move. They can sense Vampire Whumpee nearing, their bed.
Caretaker can't think too much or too hard because they can't let their heartbeat betray them.
They feel the warmth of their nightclothes unwrapped from their body, the shivering breaths whumpee pants hungrily.
They need this. Caretaker knows that Whumpee is tortured with hunger, with want, with loss.
As the fangs gingerly graze Caretaker's neck, they force themselves to keep their eyes closed. Whumpee mustn't know that they haven't slept for weeks, waiting for this moment...
A large dom inhuman monster bf (some kind that is capable of hypnotizing or compelling others) has an anxious petite gf (or gn!) reader who won’t take time to relax because she’s overthinking and stressing over so many things she has to do and he grabs her puts her in his lap and hypnotizes/compels her with just a look to go mindless and limp and relaxed and he toys with her and pleasures her so she’s all relaxed and subby for him after her hard day and he feels primally happy seeing her in such a state compared to how tense and worried she was before he intervened like a responsible partner and just keeps playing with her until they both fall asleep and she’s all dazed and calm the next morning
A/N: Took this in a bit of a different direction with the same idea, hope you like it!
Vampire!boyfriend who is very concerned about how overworked you are. You always come home smelling exhausted and barely awake. He sits you on his lap and calmly talks to you until your eyes are unfocused and your body goes pliant. He plays with your sensitive spots until you come, a slow building orgasm that leaves you completely boneless over him. He cuddles you until you fall asleep, kissing your head and telling you how much he loves you.
Vampire!boyfriend who gets even more concerned when your dark circles become darker after a bad episode of insomnia. He insists on you telling him what you need, but when you don't, he takes it upon himself to discover it. If he has to compel you to tell him in order to take good care of you, he will. And then he will be perfect for you. He will be everything you need and more. Your perfect partner.
Vampire!boyfriend who is so worried when you get anxious that he can't help himself helping you out. He promised he would only do it once, but you are so stressed, your heartbeat is always a tad too fast because of anxiety. He can help. Why wouldn't you let him help? He will. He's going to. He hypnotizes you to be a bit more calm when things get bad, to go to him for help, to want to be hypnotized.
Vampire!boyfriend who, sometimes, enjoys hypnotizing you just for the fun of it. You look so cute with your eyes dazed and your body limp. You finally have time to rest and he can cuddle you without you moving around all the time. You are so soft and warm, and he can kiss you as much as he wants without you squirming under him for more. He just needs to caress your body until he's had enough.
⚠️ Whumpee found hurt trope, Whumper talked about, starvation, divorced! caretaker x whumper, descriptive body language, torture mention, interrogations mention, crass! caretaker & flashbacks.
For @echoed-electron
Word Count: 820
@whumpgiftswap March 26', round 2.
Whumpee swallows what little saliva they had. It had been at least a century since they'd last fed. Their stomach grumbled.
Fresh, fresh blood.
Having been chained, beaten, and starved as they were when they arrived, Whumpee had been thrown into the cellar.
That was until Caretaker had found them. Dripping wounds and bruises.
That had been half a decade ago. If the patchy calendar the torturer had thrown at them was anything to go by.
Pen ink faded from sitting in the small patch of sun this hole got. Edges torn where pages had been ripped out. It was a neat thing in a world of horrors.
Though maybe Whumpee was reaching. As their old cellmate would say. Thinking too deep into things.
Their cellmate had been a twenty something mortal man with a mop of banged hair and attitude. He didn't last long.
They never did.
Mortals.
For so long, Whumpee stared at the four walls. With nothing but the echos to keep them true company.
Now Whumpee had to deal with this. This scent- this smell. It was much too much.
Tears dripped down their nose.
Out of what their body had left, tears. Stupid fucking tears.
Whumpee was tired of crying.
Baby blues turned violet from violence.
Now the cellar door opening? Spelling trouble. Heavy clattered footfalls down the spiral metal staircase.
The torturer had finally died. The ghostly figure taunting them even from the grave. Or that's what the spiritual cellmate Whumpee had said.
Whumpee had long lost fate. Faith even more so.
Caretaker sighed, watching Whumpee fix their own wounds. Shirt rumpled at the midsection, eyes straining in the dusk. Blood dripping on their newly mopped floor.
"Ah, fuck this. I can't see shit." Whumpee hissed. Particularly aggravated about changing directions on their impromptu stitches.
Caretaker sighed, flicking the burner to life. Cigarette in between their fingers.
"You can not be serious right now!" Whumpee wailed, disdain coating their immortal features.
"You've lived hundreds of fucking years in a cellar." Caretaker shot back frostily. Eyes cutting Whumpee a look rivaling the very one they were faced with.
Whumpee huffed but said nothing, nursing their slow healing wound.
Caretaker felt only slightly bad. It wasn't their fault they ended up in this situation. At least…not entirely.
Whumper was a cruel bastard. Apparently had been one for much longer than Caretaker even knew about. But that would be something they'd dissect later.
This place, this house, was haunting enough.
"Are you loitering?" Caretaker said.
"What?" Whumpee responds.
"Staying, got it. I'll fix you up a room. The servants haven't arrived yet." Caretaker flourishes their cigarette in the air like an incense before putting it out.
The ashes scattering around a zig-zag patterned soap dish.
"How about a bath?" Caretaker said. Eyeing Whumpee with critical intent.
"Please." Whumpee replies, voice quivering.
Now seated in a bathing chair, Whumpee stared at their reflection.
Stomach curved under ribs. Skin stretched tight over their skeleton. Twisting around their hips and thighs.
Caretaker had provided a mirror and stuck it to the bath wall. Per Whumpee's request. They had been insistent on seeing themselves in more than the silverware.
"You okay? Did the mirror work out?" Came Caretaker's voice.
Gentle in tone but firm in questions.
Questions. Whumpee hated those.
The hours of torture and questioning…
"Whumpee." Came Caretaker's firm tone. Rearing them back to reality.
Did Whumper and Caretaker have children? Whumpee certainly felt like a child in Caretaker's presence.
"I'm coming in. Cover yourself."
"I'm in the shower." Whumpee creaked back. Eyes pressed to the heels of their palms.
The bathroom door opened and Caretaker stepped inside.
"I have your clothes. Whumper kept your measurements. Your clothes and remnants from the century you came from…" Caretaker paused.
Whumpee turned. The gap between the shower curtain and the wall provided access. Whumpee met Caretaker's eyes. Which meant…Caretaker could see them.
"I have those clothes too. You can find them in your private library." Caretaker finished. Eyes flicking to the floor.
Whumpee nodded. Not even bothering to explain why they turned the chair around anyways.
They were used to being hosed off when their clothing inevitably became scraps. The fact Caretaker even gave them fresh clothes was more than they could bear.
So staying seemed to be a wise decision. Even if it took everything in them not to pounce on the other supernatural. Draining them dry.
"Forgive me," Caretaker mumbled.
And just like that, they left. Clothing a simple tank top and sweatpants, placed on the sink.
Later, Whumpee tentatively laid on the bed bench.
They still didn't feel clean enough for the bed.
Despite Caretaker's protests that they were alright.
But Whumpee felt good. Content to be slightly raised.
It was similar to their old bed. Except it wasn't stone.
Caretaker even tucked them in, insisting as a vampire they needed more heat. Like a reptile.
Author's Note: This was so fun to get the 50/50 of hurt/comfort! I tried to keep true to Whumpee's emotional state and general melancholy. :D
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