WARNING! Whump writing ahead!

Author | 26 | main blog @whumpsmith | Icon by @scarletfish8eta

[whumpsmith-participates]

HI

This is my side-blog on which I will post writing event submissions for easy archiving and no meme littering. Find my main @whumpsmith

Other writing-focused sideblogs: @villainsview (characters featured in Medwhump May 2024) @heroescore (characters featured in AI-less Whumptober 2024 & Whumpay 2025)

Writing will include horrors both within and beyond your comprehension. Enter at your own risk!

Links to event masterlists below the cut

Medwhump May 2024 Masterlist

AI-less Whumptober 2024 Masterlist

Whumpay 2025 Masterlist

August of Whump 2025 (Discontinued)

Whumpay 2026 Masterlist (Discontinued)

Unwholesome OC Week

[ocdynamicsevent]

OC DYNAMICS MONTH 2026

Welcome all OC enthusiasts! This entire August 2026 will be all about your OCs, or more specifically, the dynamics between them. Post your writing, art, or whichever medium you choose on Tumblr with the hashtag #ocdynamicsmonth26 and make sure to show some love to other participants as well! Your posts will be reblogged to this blog.

My asks are open for any questions & comments you might have! Please read the rules and prompt guide first!♡

Rules:

Original characters only! Fandom OCs are fine, but the characters within the dynamic must be OCs.

Make something (writing, visual art, some other creation) with a given prompt, then post it on Tumblr during OC Dynamics Month and use the hashtag #ocdynamicsmonth26. Interpret the prompts freely and include as many OCs within the dynamic as you wish!

You can post your work late, for example you can post your creation for Day 1 on Day 15 if you want! All I ask is that you don't post them early.

There are no strict rules for what content is allowed. However, I may choose not to reblog something if I feel that it goes against the spirit of the event (AI generated content, hateful content etc). Including content warnings for heavy topics is encouraged!

Event is over but you still want to do the prompts? No worries, keep working on the daily prompts or fill the bonus prompts if you wish! I'll keep reblogging posts for a while after the event is over.

Bonus rule: interact with at least one other creation for each piece you make yourself! Like, reblog, leave a reply, or even send the creator a message if you want - let’s spread the love! ♡

Prompt guide

Each main prompt contains a type of relationship and an adjective. You can fill a day's prompt in one of 3 ways (using the first prompt as an example): 1. use only the type of relationship → make a piece about ex-friends, 2. use only the adjective → make a piece about ocs with a powerful dynamic OR 3. use both → make a piece about ex-friends who have a powerful dynamic. 

This year, the bonus prompts are dialogue prompts. You can combine or swap them with main prompts or just do them in addition to the main prompts! You can use the exact wording, tweak it to fit your piece, or simply use the dialogue to inspire your work without using it directly.

Prompts

Day 1. ex-friends / powerful

Day 2. boss-employee / wild

Day 3. siblings / tragic

Day 4. friends with benefits / helpful

Day 5. roommates / disgusting

Day 6. celebrity-fan / bitter

Day 7. online friends / codependent

Day 8. foster siblings / admiring

Day 9. neighbors / amusing

Day 10. throuple / sincere

Day 11. parent-child / burdened

Day 12. pen pals / apologetic

Day 13. ex-spouses / welcoming

Day 14. classmates / quiet

Day 15. strangers / brave

Day 16. grandparent-grandchild / strict

Day 17. fiancé(e)s / disturbed

Day 18. step-siblings / calculating

Day 19. childhood friends / scary

Day 20. allies / exciting

Day 21. enemies / equal

Day 22. doctor-patient / informal

Day 23. situationship / indulgent

Day 24. aunt-niece / sweet

Day 25. cousins / mysterious

Day 26. mentor-student / merciful

Day 27. fellow community members / childish

Day 28. colleagues / forgiving

Day 29. partners / comfortable

Day 30. co-creators / honest

Day 31. found family / strange

Bonus prompts

"You're worth it to me."

"Just go."

"We don't need to talk about it."

"I haven't seen you since..."

"Let me handle it."

"Hold me."

"Aren't you going to ask me what I think?"

"Took you long enough."

"Take me somewhere."

"I think I know you well enough by now."

[whumpsmith]

Ian infodump

Full name: Ian Peters Age: 500+ (looks like 17/18) DOB: XX/XX/1498 Species: Vampire Favourite food bloodtype: B+ SO: Daedalus

God, Ian is potentially my most miserable character at times, which is why I refer to him as my pathetic little meow meow.

He first appears in @heroescore book 2 as an antagonist-ish character, but (spoilers) it turns out he's just a hangry 500yo baby who needs to be rescued, not beaten.

In the Heroes vampire lore, vampires go feral if they don't drink enough blood for too long, something that Ian is deeply uncomfortable with. He's a caring and pacifistic person at heart, so losing control and hurting anyone is deeply unsettling to him.

More spoilers because I'm still working on book 3

After being rescued, Ian first stays with Slade, who is immortal and can give as much blood as Ian needs to stay sane. However, then they find out that in the process of drinking blood directly from someone, vampires apparently inject some kind of substance that makes people more relaxed and experience less pain from it. As a side effect, it also makes humans horny as hell.

Ian has a brief affair with Slade before they get caught by Aiden who Slade had been trying to woo for 2 books now and who was finally beginning to show some interest in return, so RIP to that possibility-- (jk, they get married some years after that)

Anyway, Ian feels guilty for existing again so Slade sends him to his old friend Hecate, a witch with her own health clinic with access to the blood bank. With Hecate Ian finds comfort in being a live-in servant again and having some structure in his life, she pays him in nearly-expired blood that would otherwise be thrown out because it's not safe to use on humans anymore and after she notices he enjoys helping her in her clinic she advises for him to look into nursing school.

While living with Hecate, Ian also meets the deity she has a shrine for in her basement!

moar spoilers for the greater Heroes pantheon (yes, there is one)

Daedalus is a demi-god esque entity which was once spawned with the purpose to locate and entrap dangerous enteties. It was "decomissioned" as these entities became less and less common or were otherwise dealt with, but with the resurgance of supernatural humans and other creatures it is active again. However, due to an incident in the London underground 💥its soul merged with a mortal so he has no friggin' clue what his purpose is other than whatever feels right. And! It gave him a humansona to communicate with mortals and the like.

His name is actually a mistake also. When he first made contact with humans, it was with three witches, one of them being Hecate. Seeing that he seemed to be in control of underground spaces and be able to turn them into a maze a la Inception paradoxes, they named him after the man who built the maze to trap the minotaur.

So, anyway, Hecate stays in touch with Daedalus for years and maintains a shrine for him in her basement so that he can always connect to her home and drop by for a visit. Because he is instinctively drawn to powerful entities and becasuse vampires are inherently powerful, Daedalus eventually drops by for a visit because he senses Ian. He stumbles upon the pathetic little meow meow who didn't yet know that his new landlady sometimes just has an immortal hobo in her basement and Daedalus is immediately obsessed with Ian.

At first it's mostly instinct-driven, but as they spend more time together they fall in love with each other and they lived happily ever after.....

for a while lmao and then they don't.

When Ian's past comes back to haunt him!

Fast forward a couple of years, Ian is a nurse practitioner now. He's acting as a medic for the next generation of heroes (sidekicks/interns), because I'm a whump writer and ofc the sidekicks get hurt the most—

Anyway, he's vibing, patching the kids up when they need it, when he's suddenly accused of a series of murders. Fortunately he has a solid alibi, but when he's asked to help with the investigation he seems very reluctant. And it isn't until it's much. much. too late that the others figure out why.

Because they find the vampire responsible for the murders and he orders Ian to join him and to everyone's surprise Ian obeys.

Turns out this guy is Ian's sire and in the Heroes vampire lore, vampires are entirely incapable of disobeying their sires. Ian doesn't want to hurt anyone, least of all anyone he knows, but his sire commands it and he obeys.

They narrowly survive the encounter and start digging into Ian's past. At this point they are just trying to understand why their friendly neighbourhood vampire has suddenly turned on them. They don't know about the magic bond. They don't know he doesn't have a choice.

Meanwhile Ian is miserable. The entire reunion is like one massive punishment. He's ordered to either lead people to their death or to kill them himself. He's ordered to harm his loved ones again. And worst of all: he's threatened to be replaced. Now if it was as simple as a pink slip and an interview process, it wouldn't be so bad, but we're talking about vampires here, one of which is a sadistic asshole.

First of all, he won't just let Ian go, instead he hints at either locking him away for eternity or plain killing him. And secondly, his replacement won't be there voluntarily. And lastly, his sire is eyeing one of the kids Ian works with, so it's a tripple whammy.

And he succeeds about halfway to as well.

Ian's sire ends up converting Adam (@illustriousshadow's lil goober) before he is defeated and killed, now leaving the squad™ with a second vampire!

Surprise adoption!

Because the government is not too big a fan of there being even more vampires, Ian is kind of forced to adopt Adam and mentor him in controlling his urges, which doesn't go very smoothly because they both come with baggage and they both handle trauma differently so they butt heads a lot.

But despite this Adam eventually takes Ian's last name and even follows in his footsteps in a nursing career after they finally learn how to play nice together.

And THEN they all live happily ever after as a lil immortal family.

OR do they? >:3c

Also here's a moodboard:

[whumpsmith-participates]

Moar about Ian from my unwholesome OC week fics!

[whumpsmith-participates]

Unwholesome OC Week

June 5 - Dubcon / Possessive Behaviour

Contains: still vampires, dubcon, whumpee forced to SA someone (<- implied, not portrayed), isolation, burns (scars), dehumanisation, blood drinking, gore, minor character death, grooming, intimate whumper, dubcon again

It had been some weeks, perhaps even moons, since Ian’s transformation. He learned in a most cruel way what happens if a vampire doesn’t feed. He became exactly what he feared; A monster with no regard for human life. At least…that’s what Lord Gethin essentially told him what happened.

Ian had no memory of it. As far as he knew, one moment he was chained to the wall, the next he was sitting over someone’s corpse, feeling incredibly guilty, even though he couldn’t even remember his name or his face…

He remembered where he was buried, though. He could see the path leading to the forest behind the manor from the window in Lord Gethin’s room. He’d been mostly confined to Lord Gethin’s chambers ever since. Without restraints, though the manacles still hung from the wall like a silent threat.

He had become merely a phantom to the other servants, only acknowledged by them when Lord Gethin needed him to tell them something. Which was also one of the only times he was allowed to leave his chambers. Other times was when Lord Gethin asked him to fetch him something, though usually he would summon one of the servants to do that for him.

Only at night did he ask Ian instead of the servants. Humans needed to rest every night, after all. They didn’t. It was a strange sensation and Ian still wasn’t used to it. He still longed for his bed once the sun set, but instead that meant it was time for his daily meal.

One of the servants would come in. Lord Gethin would either lead him to the bed or ask him to approach. Ian was to wait where he happened to be standing or seated. The first sip was always for Lord Gethin and only after he was satisfied he would call Ian over and allowed him to drink what was left. Sometimes it was only a sip or two before he was ordered to stop. Enough to keep him sane, but not enough to satisfy him.

He couldn’t complain, though. Literally. Lord Gethin forbade it. Once he had gotten over the shock of his transformation, Ian realised quite fast that he couldn’t disobey Lord Gethin’s commands, even when he wanted to. (Which wasn’t often.) Whatever he ordered, Ian’s body always moved before his mind could and Lord Gethin knew it all too well.

Lord Gethin didn’t like to share. That’s why he stopped Ian from drinking more blood than he needed at the least. At most he would share…himself, after the feeding. Make Ian and the half-conscious servant take turns.

“Show him how to do it properly.” he would say.

And Ian obeyed.

He didn’t mind being a phantom so much anymore. He wasn’t proud of the things he helped them do. That he forced them to do… It was the only time he considered to disobey and the worst time to find that he couldn’t. But the servants didn’t seem to remember even seconds after and Ian told himself the limited interaction he was allowed with them would prevent them from remembering as well.

A small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

If he wasn’t doing tasks for Lord Gethin or entertaining him otherwise, Ian spent his days reading the books he was allowed to borrow or staring out the window, watching either the clouds or the stars in the night sky slowly pass by. He also kept the room tidy and the fire in the hearth burning.

Some days, Lord Gethin gave him a lesson. Either about Ian’s new condition or just anything that happened to come to mind. About the book Ian asked to read or its author, or about the stars he caught him staring at. Ian liked those lessons, they were a kindness. The “vampire lessons” however…could go either way.

Sometimes they were simple. Lord Gethin merely answered a question when Ian asked it. Like why he wasn’t allowed to go out during the day, after Lord Gethin explicitly forbade it.

“Are the stories true, my lord?” he had asked, “Do we perish in the light of the sun?”

“No, Ian, the sun is not that powerful.” Lord Gethin had replied, not looking up from his book, “But it darkens our skin like peasants spending all day in the sun for the entire harvest season in merely a few hours. And we are not peasants.”

Other times he liked to demonstrate and that usually meant he was going to teach Ian what could still harm him as a vampire. Like when he asked why he couldn’t see his reflection in a decorative mirror in the library, but could still see it in the window that night…

Ian glanced down at his wrist. There was still a red burn on it, from the silver bracelet Lord Gethin made him wear til sunrise. The sun was setting now and the burn still hadn’t healed. Lesson learned. Avoid touching silver.

“It gets worse as you grow older.”

Ian looked up. Lord Gethin, who had been warming himself by the fire, had suddenly turned and addressed him.

“It…will not heal, my Lord?” Ian asked, looking back down at his wrist.

“Have your ears ceased to work?” Lord Gethin chided, “You shall be healed come morning, I already told you this. But the older you get, the more severely silver will burn you. I daren’t even touch it through cloth…”

Ian struggled to imagine Lord Gethin being hurt so easily. And supposedly worse than what he experienced the other night. He’d been sobbing and begging for mercy within the hour. He was sure something that would harm Lord Gethin would have him begging for the final mercy of death.

Lord Gethin stepped over to him, putting a hand under his chin and making him look up.

“Best not dwell on it.” he said. His fingers kept pulling at Ian’s chin, as if he had them hooked around his jawbone, so he stood up and followed the pull until his face was merely inches from Lord Gethin’s. Ian parted his lip, knowing a kiss was next. He tilted his head exactly the way Lord Gethin preferred it…and then they both froze.

A crack echoed through the manor like a crack of thunder in a clear blue sky.

Once. Twice. And then again.

“Someone…at the door.” Lord Gethin slowly said, finally recognising the noise.

Someone was using the heavy cast-iron knocker on the front door. Ian was surprised it was useable at all. He was sure it had rusted into place. They had never had a visitor ever since they moved in. He suspected Lord Gethin made sure the nearby village was unaware the manor was even there and the staff had only used the back entrance by the kitchens. The front door was only for Lord Gethin and Lord Gethin never left. At least, not that Ian could recall.

He looked back at Lord Gethin, still so very close to his face, so he made sure to speak in a quiet voice as to not upset him.

“Shall I answer, my lord?” he nearly whispered.

“Yes.” Lord Gethin said, “I shall meet them in the parlour, we might get a decent meal out of it…”

Ian regretted his suggestion to answer, but he stepped back and inclined his head, before heading towards the door. The servant’s door, out of habit, still. Lord Gethin didn’t protest. He just told him to hurry, before one of the servants beat him to it.

The main hall was deserted. Ian realised all the servants were sat down for supper, so they probably hadn’t heard the knocker at all and there was no bell connected to the door to alert them either. The door was locked firmly shut and if it hadn’t been for his recently increased strength, Ian was sure it would have been impossible to open.

The lock opened with a crack that rang in his sensitive ears and the hinges creaked in such a way that it appeared the very house was moaning as it finally got to stretch a very achy joint. Ian couldn’t stand the sound, so he only opened it about halfway, standing in the opening and observing the lone figure on their doorstep.

It was unlike anything he had ever seen before. The figure was clad in rich reds, golden and brown fabric. They looked soft and velvety and sturdy. Sewn and embroidered with golden thread. The sleeves of their doublet and their hose were puffed, giving them an almost comically round appearance. A white, lace collar rested on their shoulders, upon which some curled locks of auburn hair rested.

But Ian only got a brief glance of the figure’s absurd outfit as his eye was quickly drawn by their face…or lack thereof. The man wore a mask that resembled a painted face, with an exaggerated smile formed by golden lips and eyes surrounded by nearly hypnotic swirls of black, red and gold. It was tucked against the figure’s face securely by a red velvet hat adorned with some plumage.

Hands clad in black gloves and adorned with bejewelled rings gracefully rested on the head of a cane, the figure tilting its head as Ian appeared to be at a loss of words.

“Will you not invite a weary traveller inside?”

It was a man’s voice. He spoke with an accent that Ian couldn’t quite place. And hearing him speak while the mouth on his mask stayed still was rather unsettling.

“I am begging your pardon, master.” Ian said politely, “We rarely see travellers here.”

“And that is a reason to leave them out in the cold?”

“Only if they have no business here.” Ian said curtly.

He hoped he could deter the stranger from wanting to enter so his life may be spared. But then he leaned forward and in the shade of the mask that fell over his eyes, Ian could have sworn he saw a glint of red in the dark void where his eyes should be.

“I assure you, I have business here.” he said, his voice akin to a purr, “I wish to see Reverend Gethin…or does he go by a different title these days?”

That changed things.

“You know Lord Gethin?” Ian asked.

“In-ti-mate-ly.” the stranger emphasised, before straightening up again and tapping his cane on the floor and demanding, “Invite me in!”

“Your name, if you please.” Ian responded, refusing to be intimidated.

“Well, if Colin goes by Lord Gethin presently, I suppose you may call me Lord Leander Nikolić.”

“…very well.” Ian said, opening the door properly and gesturing for him to pass through, “Do come in, Lord Nikolić.”

“Lord” Nikolić stepped inside with a smooth gait, his boots tapping quietly on the stone floor. He carried his cane, before thumping it on the floor with a definitive click as he stopped in the middle of the main hall and looked around.

The house groaned as Ian closed the door again, the lock closing reminding him of a cough. After that he turned back to Lord Nikolić to find him reaching for his mask and pulling it down, revealing his eyes…and pausing there. They were indeed red, like Lord Gethin’s and Ian’s and suddenly the young man realised how this man might be related to Lord Gethin.

“Lead the way~” he said, the glint of a smile in his eyes.

Ian inclined his head and headed towards the left.

“My lord shall see you in the parlour.” he said, before knocking on the door and opening it.

Lord Gethin was stood by the window next to the fireplace, a small fire had barely gotten started. Ian briefly wondered if Lord Gethin had started it himself or whether he had rushed one of the servants while Ian was talking with their visitor. Then he cleared his throat and announced him.

“My lord…a Lord Nikolić is here to see you.”

Lord Gethin suddenly whipped around, his glare making Ian very nervous. Had he done something wrong? Or was he not as familiar with Lord Nikolić as their visitor claimed? Or was he perhaps…too familiar?

“Leandros?” he said.

Before Ian could answer he was pushed aside, the tip of Lord Nikolić’s cane poking painfully in his back as he forced him to step forward so he could enter the room.

“Colin!” he greeted, the way one might greet an old friend. He dramatically spread both his arms, cane in one hand, his mask in the other.

Ian circled the room past the wall until he stood behind his lord and he could see why Lord Nikolić hid his face behind a mask. He was smiling unconservatively, sharp fangs glinting in the light from the fire.

He was a vampire. Like Lord Gethin.

“What on earth brings you here?” Lord Gethin asked, not greeting the man with the same enthusiasm.

“Can a man not simply wish to see his dearly beloved brother~?” Lord Nikolić said, before sitting down uninvited.

“Simple is not and adjective I associate with you.” Lord Gethin said dismissively.

“Oh you wound me!” Lord Nikolić cried out, draping himself dramatically over his chair.

“Why are you here?” Lord Gethin asked again, “Last I heard you returned to Greece.”

“Yes and it has been awful. They are all Christians now!” Lord Nikolić said, “Not an ounce of fun to be had! I travelled from country to country for a few centuries and wound up in Venice and it has been perfect!”

“They dress like that in Venice now?” Lord Gethin just asked.

“The elite do.” Lord Nikolić replied with a shrug, “Which is why it is perfect. Men and women already throw themselves at me because it looks like I have money and they are not deterred until it is already too late because my mask hides my fangs~ And if I allow them to live…they will not even recognise me next time because I can just wear a different mask~”

“And yet. You are here.” Lord Gethin deadpanned.

“Well yes, you can only slaughter so many lambs each carnival season before the sheep panic.” Lord Nikolić said with a shrug.

“So you have overplayed your hand once again and you have come to seek shelter?” Lord Gethin asked.

“I merely need to lay low for a while and I figured my darling brother is always so proud of his flock he may shelter me until I can safely return to Venice~”

Ian’s chest tightened. His heart didn’t beat so it couldn’t skip one, but it should have in response to the anxiety that suddenly washed over him. This man, who kept referring to humans as animals, wanted to stay and live off of the servants as well.

Ian had accepted that he wasn’t human anymore, but he couldn’t let go of the feeling that the servants had once been like brothers to him — They still were. Which was part of why he didn’t enjoy to feed from them, even if it was a necessary evil.

Even Lord Gethin cared for them in a way. Knowing every death would impact their food security. He only took what he needed and made sure Ian did the same. But he didn’t appear to have the same hold over Lord Nikolić as he did others and Lord Nikolić appeared to hold no value for human life at all.

Or at least, too little to not draw attention to himself. Lord Gethin had taught Ian that while humans were weaker than them in every regard, there was one way they did have an upper hand on vampires and that was sheer numbers. Numbers that could be used against a lone powerful creature if they were aware enough that there was something to be afraid of.

That was why they only fed from the nearby town as a last resort. And Ian wondered if that was what they would need to placate Lord Nikolić.

“My lord?” Ian quietly spoke up, “I could fetch your guest something to…eat from town?”

“Why go all the way back there when you have plenty of warm blood under this very roof?” Lord Nikolić asked, “I can smell them~ Your deliciously docile pets~”

Ian’s stomach churned and he gave Lord Gethin an anxious and pleading look.

“My lord?” he asked, only able to pray that he would choose to protect his servants.

“You forget yourself, Ian.” Lord Gethin eventually said, “Show our guest to his rooms, I’ll ask one of the servants to arrange a meal for him.”

Ian quickly looked down and bowed his head apologetically.

“I am begging your pardon, my lord.” he said, before turning to their guest, “Whenever you are ready, I shall show you to your rooms, Lord Nikolić.”

“I knew I could count on you, Colin my dear brother!” he said as he got up, “And after I have fed you simply must tell me about your little thrall~”

He eyed Ian with a smirk and suddenly Ian didn’t want to be alone with this man.

“He can tell you himself.” Lord Gethin said dismissively, “Off you go now.”

Ian reluctantly obeyed, heading back towards the parlour door and holding it open for Lord Nikolić. At least it wasn’t a direct command, so he could simply tell him nothing if he didn’t want to, which he didn’t.

He waited for Lord Nikolić to step out into the hall before closing the door to the parlour and leading him up the stairs. They had guest rooms, only they never used them. Still, they were frequently cleaned and maintained, simply to make sure the staff kept busy. And conveniently for Lord Nikolić, they had been cleaned recently again.

The guest rooms were a bit smaller than Lord Gethin’s rooms, but they still had everything one might need: A comfortable bed, a dresser for clothes, a fireplace to keep warm, a chaise longue to rest on, and in the corner a close stool to more comfortably use the chamber pot.

“I shall make the bed for you, if you allow.” Ian said, noticing the bed had been left bare while Lord Nikolić looked around approvingly.

“How long have you been a thrall?”

Ian paused on his way to the door to fetch some sheets and paused, turning back.

“How long have I been what, my lord?” he asked, confused.

“A thrall.” Lord Nikolić repeated, “You are enslaved to Colin, are you not? As a result of your transformation?”

“I agreed to serve him for eternity, yes.” Ian said.

“Yes, well, that is called a thrall. You are bound to Colin. You are his thrall.”

“I see…” Ian said, “As for how long…I am unsure. Some weeks, I believe, perhaps even moons.”

“Well surely you have already realised that we do not require sleep then, silly boy.”

“My apologies.” Ian said, “Lord Gethin likes to rest on his bed and prefers it made. I assumed you might prefer that too.”

“Oh, so you were being thoughtful?” Lord Nikolić asked with a chuckle, “How delectable~”

“So…you do not wish for the bed to be made?” Ian asked.

“Later.” Lord Nikolić said, “I’d rather you get a fire going. It is freezing in here.”

Ian inclined his head and knelt down by the fireplace to get a fire going. Lord Nikolić hovered behind him, probably just hoping to catch the first warmth as soon as Ian got a decent flame going. Ian paid him no mind, making sure the fire was ventilated properly before getting back up. He turned to ask if their guest wanted anything else, only to find he had been standing right behind him.

Lord Nikolić was wearing his mask again, head tilted slightly as his fabricated nose nearly touched Ian’s. Ian blinked, but other than that he held still, glancing at the red glint behind the mask’s eye holes.

“Is there anything else I may help you with, my lord?” he asked.

“Tell me…” he purred behind the mask, “Why did he choose to transform you?”

“So I may serve him for eternity.” Ian answered.

“Serve him how?”

“However he needs, of course.” Ian said. He wanted to step back, but he could feel the hearth’s mantle against the back of his head.

“However he needs, huh?” Lord Nikolić repeated, “Are you just an easy lay then?”

“M-my lord?”

Lord Nikolić chuckled underneath his mask, but before he could elaborate, there was a knock on the door. He looked at the door over his shoulder and Ian took the chance to slip away and headed over to open the door. It was Ruben, one of the servants. He was nearly Ian’s age and usually oversaw the room cleanings.

“Oh, Ian!” he said, sounding surprised, “Lord Gethin said we have a guest and asked me to see to him.”

“…of course.” Ian said, “I had just finished showing him around.”

He opened the door further and let Ruben in, only for the boy to pause in the doorway as he saw their guest’s appearance. He seemed at a loss for words, until Ian gave him a nudge.

“Don’t be rude, Ruben!” he quietly hissed, nudging him inside so he could close the door again.

“My apologies!” Ruben quickly said, bowing his head.

“Ruben, this is Lord Nikolić, he is Lord’s Gethin’s guest. My lord, this is Ruben.”

“It’s a pleasure to have you, my lord.” Ruben said, bowing his head again, managing to keep his cool so long as he didn’t look at their masked visitor.

“Oh the pleasure is all mine~” Lord Nikolić said, his artificial face unmoving, but the tone of his voice betrayed he was looking the boy over.

“Would you like a late dinner, my lord?” Ruben offered, “Our cook can make you a tray.”

“Dinner sounds delightful, but a tray shan’t be necessary.” Lord Nikolić replied, “Come closer, let me see you in a better light.”

Ruben didn’t move. Instead he glanced at Ian questioningly. And Ian wasn’t sure what to tell him. He knew what Lord Nikolić really wanted for dinner, but he was only familiar with Lord Gethin’s methods, who would have already put Ruben in some kind of trance at this point to ensure he would be perfectly obedient.

A calmer human’s blood tastes better, after all, Lord Gethin had said.

Ian didn’t know what Lord Nikolić preferred, but he knew interfering would upset Lord Gethin, so he nodded and gestured for Ruben to do as requested. With Ian’s permission, Ruben stepped over to Lord Nikolić, still making sure to keep a respectful distance as well and trying to look anywhere but at the creepy mask.

“Do not fear, boy…”

Ian could hear the smirk in his voice and he wondered if he should slip out and pretend to have been dismissed. But he couldn’t do that to Ruben, so he stayed. Stood silently by the door as he watched the scene unfold.

“Would you prefer it if I removed my mask?”

“W-what I prefer is not important, my lord.” Ruben respectfully said.

Lord Nikolić chuckled, reaching for his mask and pulling it down. His eyes peeked over the edge, the lower half of his face still covered.

“I see Colin trained you well~” he said, “Do you know any other tricks? Turn for me.”

Ruben shot Ian another confused look as he began to slowly turn around, but Ian was conveniently focussed on wiping a speck of dust off of his sleeve and didn’t look back up until Ruben had already turned further and was facing Lord Nikolić again, who chuckled behind his mask again.

“Delightful~” he said, “Come. Sit.”

Before Ruben got the chance to politely decline, Lord Nikolić already essentially swept him off his feet and laid him down on the chaise longue and pinned him there.

“M-my lord?” Ruben gasped, trying to shuffle back, but his back was against the armrest. He looked at Ian for help, but Ian seemed to be looking directly past him, with a vacant look in his eyes.

“Hush, boy…” Lord Nikolić said, removing his mask entirely and putting it aside.

Ruben looked back at him and saw his fanged grin. And he screamed.

There was no reassurance, no gentle touch, no merciful mind control; Just Ruben screaming and Lord Nikolić’s deep, guttural hiss before he tore into the boy’s flesh…

Ian had planned to take Ruben to Lord Gethin afterwards, hoping he would allow him the mercy of forgetting this night. But then the screaming abruptly stopped and the sweet smell of blood quickly turned rotten and Ian knew it was too late.

He stared at the back of the chaise longue, watching Lord Nikolić slowly sit up, licking the blood off of his lips. Ruben’s arm, which had been gripping the back rest in terror, now hung limply over it. Lord Nikolić looked at Ian with a bloodied grin.

“Yes~?” he asked.

“Y-you killed him…” Ian managed to say.

“Oh, my apologies. Had you wanted a sip~?”

Ian hesitated at first, before coming to his senses and shaking his head.

“Well then don’t just stand there.” Lord Nikolić said, “Clean this up before it stinks up the room.”

He got off of the boy, heading over to the washing basin to clean his face, while Ian slowly stepped over to the chaise longue and viewed the carnage left behind. Half of Ruben’s throat had been eaten away, his face twisted in fear, still wet with tears, his eyes wide and bloodshot.

Ian felt his own eyes begin to water as he knelt besides the boy and stroked his hair. And for the first time, as far as he remembered, he likened Lord Gethin to a monster — In his mannerisms, not his nature. It was impossible that he didn’t know Lord Nikolić would murder Ruben. He chose to send him, knowing his friend would have no mercy.

Lord Gethin sacrificed Ruben.

Ian buried Ruben in the forest behind the manor, among the shallow graves of others whose names he didn’t remember. He didn’t have the time to dig a deeper grave for Ruben either. He had to hurry back and remove the chaise longue from the guest room. Much of Ruben’s blood had spilled into the fabric and he knew it would stink up the room as badly as a corpse would.

Something about blood from a deceased person was inherently disgusting, though he wasn’t sure why, but he assumed it was bad for them one way or another and he also couldn’t stand the smell. So he stopped in the now-deserted kitchen to wash the blood and mud off of his hands before heading back to Lord Nikolić room.

However, when he returned, he found the doors open and he could hear Lord Gethin’s voice. So he ran the last few steps and stopped in the doorway, holding his breath. Lord Gethin was talking to Lord Nikolić, pressing a handkerchief against his nose against the smell from the chaise longue.

“I offer you a room and a meal and this is how you repay me?” he said, “His life was not yours to end, it was mine.”

Lord Nikolić shrugged, seeming rather unimpressed by Lord Gethin’s lecture.

“Did you not choose to end it by offering it to me?” he reasoned, “If it pleases you, I did rather enjoy it~”

“I gathered that.” Lord Gethin said, gesturing at the blood stain on the chaise longue, “Do not let it happen again.”

“Or what? You will sic your precious thrall on me~?”

Lord Gethin glanced back at Ian, who was still stood in the door opening and, for a moment, Ian feared he was considering the option, but then Lord Nikolić continued.

“Go ahead.” he said, “I shall thoroughly enjoy putting him in his place~”

“You will do no such thing.” Lord Gethin said, “Perhaps one day if you have a thrall of your own you can put that in its place, but you shan’t touch mine.”

“You might wish to remind your thrall of that~” Lord Nikolić teased, “He did not seem inclined to reject any of my advances~”

Lord Gethin’s glare now fixed on Ian and the boy instinctively took a step back, before realising that Lord Nikolić was being untruthful.

“M-my lord,” he said, “there were no—”

He promptly stopped when Lord Gethin held up his hand, anxiously awaiting his reaction.

“Go to my chambers.” he said, “I shall speak with you when I am done here.”

“Y-yes, my lord.” Ian said, bowing his head before backing out of the room and closing the door.

Lord Gethin’s chambers were on the opposite end of the manor from the guest room, but by the time Ian reached it he could still hear the argument between him and Lord Nikolić. He couldn’t understand it, however. They spoke in a language he didn’t recognise.

Ian closed the door and waited by the window, staring at the path leading to the forest behind the manor until he heard the voices or Lord Gethin and Lord Nikolić subside. A door closed and he could hear Lord Gethin’s footfalls approaching the room. So Ian turned away from the window and looked down as he waited for the door to open.

As soon as it opened, he bowed his head properly, tensing up a bit as Lord Gethin closed the door rather harshly. He marched over to the fireplace, pausing there, probably warming himself a bit by the flames, before turning around.

“Come here.”

Ian stepped towards him, suddenly feeling anxious about what Lord Nikolić might have said. Lord Gethin’s hand brushed past his cheek and over the back of his head and Ian relaxed a bit. But then Lord Gethin suddenly gripped his hair tightly and forced him to look up. Ian gasped a bit in surprise, but he knew better than to protest, so he stayed quiet as he peered up at Lord Gethin.

“Tell me the truth.” he said, “Did my foolish brother touch you the way I have touched you?”

“No, my lord.” Ian said.

“And if he had…what would you have done?”

Ian thought for a second, before assuming Lord Gethin still wanted the truth.

“I-I am unsure, my lord.” he said, “It never occurred to me that he might. O-or anyone for that matter. All my life…there has only ever been you, my lord.”

“And don’t you ever forget that, Ian.” Lord Gethin said, thankfully letting go of Ian’s hair and cupping his cheek instead, “You are my most perfect creation. And no one gets to soil that. You were mine the second I encouraged your father to first speak to your mother. I gave you life and eternal life and all I am asking in return is that you remain loyal so long as we both walk this earth.”

Ian wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He felt warm and loved, but he also felt guilty as he still questioned Lord Gethin’s decision to send Ruben to Lord Nikolić’s room…but then he also seemed upset that the boy’s life had been cut short, so had Ian been in the wrong to judge his decision?

Lord Gethin’s thumb brushed over his cheek before he retracted his hand and Ian realised he had shed a tear. Though whether it was joy or regret he couldn’t say for sure. Fortunately Lord Gethin didn’t seem to know either and paid it no mind altogether.

“Disrobe.” he just said, gesturing towards his bed, “Show me how loyal you are.”

Ian undressed slowly, taking off one piece of clothing at a time as he slowly stepped towards the bed, only arriving once he was fully nude. Then he first walked around, carefully untying and closing the drapes around the bed, except for the last one. He untied the last drape by the headboard on the side that faced the hearth and held it aside for Lord Gethin.

Lord Gethin shed his robes before he approached, pushing Ian rather harshly onto the mattress and crawling in after him. The curtain fell closed, leaving only a small crack through which Ian could see the flickering of the flames in the hearth, reflected in a thin stripe on the canopy. Something to focus on while he had his head tilted back so Lord Gethin could kiss his throat, slowly working his way up and over his jaw before forcing him to tilt his head back so he could kiss his lips.

The room was silent, other than the crackling from the fire, the rustling of sheets, and quiet gasps. Lord Gethin positioned Ian more to his liking, digging his nails into his skin to prompt the boy to move, whilst simultaneously still pinning him down with a long kiss.

When he eventually broke the kiss, he sat up, tracing a finger over Ian’s lips until he opened his mouth. Lord Gethin pushed his finger in. His middle finger first and his ring finger second, pressing down on Ian’s tongue and holding them there, while with his free hand he prompted the boy to spread his legs further as he nestled between them.

Ian thought he could feel Lord Gethin’s nails scrape against the back of his throat and he gagged, squeezing his eyes shut as he knew how Lord Gethin usually responded to that. Instead of pulling out, he pushed his fingers deeper until Ian calmed down. It wasn’t so bad now that he didn’t really need to breathe anyway, but suppressing the reflex still took a lot of effort.

By the time he managed to hold still long enough for Lord Gethin to finally pull his fingers out, Ian had fresh tears rolling down the side of his face and seeping into the velvet blankets. Meanwhile Lord Gethin simply took his fingers, drenched in saliva, and positioned them between Ian’s legs, pushing into him once again.

It was unpleasant and cold, but Ian knew it was just temporary. He would forget about this soon until the next time. Usually as soon as Lord Gethin pulled his fingers out before he finally——

Ian moaned and the last bit of tension in his body dissipated as he essentially melted in Lord Gethin’s hands. Hands that pulled at his waist until he couldn’t get closer and he was lifted off the mattress instead. Lifted until his whole body was pressed against Lord Gethin, chest against chest, arms wrapped around, and his face pressed into the crook of his neck.

For a moment Lord Gethin held Ian like he never had before, arms wrapped around him tightly, nearly squeezing the air out of him. But then they loosened, his hands drifting down to Ian’s waist, holding him in place while he began rocking his hips. Ian moaned again as Lord Gethin thrust in and out of him at a steady pace.

Steady, but slow.

And Ian knew it would be a while before he would see beyond the drapes of the bed again.

THIS ONE IS SO LONG SORRY LOL

Not actually sorry, I had a lot of fun introducing Leander Nikolić (even if I did spend about two hours figuring out how to type the ć without having to copy and paste the character every time and ended up learning some coding oh my gawd).

Gethin refers to him as Leandros as that's what he first called himself when they met, but he goes by Leander now :3

@unwholesomeocweek

Taglist: @sug4rgal | feel free to ask to be added!

Masterlist | Main account

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now with he.

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Unwholesome OC Week

As one may or may not have noticed this one gets a bit dark and potentially triggering. Besides the prompts, I'll make sure to list any other potentially triggering content before each work and will include these in the tags as well. However, I'm only human and a little dum-dum sometimes so if I left anything out, feel free to let me know.

Prompts and rules

June 1 - Hatefucking / Violence / Divorce

June 2 - Proxy Sex / Body Horror / Coercion

June 3 - Necrophilia / Corruption / Power Imbalance

June 4 - Nonconsensual Voyeurism / Mindbreak / Incest

June 5 - Dubcon / Unethical Experimentation / Possessive Behaviour

June 6 - Wound Fucking / Mind Control / Blackmail

June 7 - Bad Sex / Cannibalism / Codependency

[whumpsmith-participates]

Finished!! \o/

[whumpsmith-participates]

Unwholesome OC Week

June 7 - Cannibalism / Bad Sex

Contains: vampires, blood drinking, guilt, death, cannibalism, noncon, intimate whumper, degradation/belittling, violent noncon

The wind howled through the bare trees, half their bark caked in frozen-over snow. Winter was unforgiving this year and the abandoned halls of the manor were as cold as the overgrown grounds and dead forest surrounding it. Ian hadn’t seen it in days, but that was the way it had been when he left.

There were no more servants to feed from and disease had gotten a hold over the nearby town. Lord Gethin and Ian had retreated to the hidden underground chambers, which Ian had never seen before except for the cell he woke up in after he had been transformed. The largest room was richly decorated and held another collection of Lord Gethin’s books, as well as a large casket, in which Lord Gethin slumbered.

Slumbering, Lord Gethin had explained, was a way for vampires to conserve energy in dire times. When there was not enough food available or if humans got too suspicious. And they were struggling with both so Lord Gethin ordered Ian to only hunt for food far away and to wake him in a century and then disappeared into his tomb.

And Ian hated it.

He had felt lonely before, but even then he had Lord Gethin and now he couldn’t even talk to him…for a century. He did give Ian a journal before he went to slumber and advised him to write to keep sane. But Ian left it in the underground chambers in the manor when he ventured out, for safekeeping.

So when he was out in the woods, days away from home to search for food, he had nothing but his own thoughts. And even those were hard to hang on to as he grew hungrier and hungrier until he came upon his next unfortunate victim. Whether it was a traveller or a small family living in their remote little cabins, their blood tasted like a glass of cold water in a desert.

And Ian hated it.

He hated coming back to his senses among the corpses of his victims, their blood still sticking to his face and clothes. Every other week it was the same thing. He stayed home as long as he could until he couldn’t stand the hunger anymore and then he walked for days until he lost himself and he awoke a monster.

Ian hated himself.

The wind howled and the large tree he sheltered behind did little to stave off the cold. He looked down at the woman he’d snatched off the trail. She was weak and pale, but still warm. Still alive. Ian licked her blood off of his lips and he wept.

“Forgive me…” he whispered as he leaned in closer to her throat, “Forgive me…for taking your life to sustain my mind…I deserve no mercy, so I pray the gods show you mercy instead…”

And then he bit her. And he drank her blood. And just before her soul passed, he tore off a chunk of flesh and chewed it. He wasn’t even sure whether that worked or if he was just fooling himself, but he felt he could go a little longer before the next feeding if he ate some of their flesh.

Human flesh.

Ian felt disgusted. He had so ever since he found out who Lord Gethin was and what he turned him into. Blessed to serve him for eternity, but cursed to cannibalise for the rest of forever.

But was he cannibalising? Or had he truly become something beyond human. Was he just a predator consuming prey? Then why did he still weep for the poor souls who crossed his path? Were his tears what made him human? And did that mean he sinned every time he fed?

Was this all eternity had in store for him?

For centuries, Ian was bound to the manor and Lord Gethin, either watching over his slumbering form or forced to slumber himself. The loneliness disillusioning his believes that he had been blessed and reinforcing the idea that he had been cursed.

Until one day, Lord Gethin prepared for his turn to slumber and rather than ordering Ian to wake him up after a set amount of years, he only uttered “You know what to do.”

And while he feared his wrath and he was unsure where to go or what to do without him, Ian eventually realised he could leave.

And he did.

And for a while, for a small blip in his long life, he forgot about his curse and he dared to be happy.

And then Lord Gethin returned.

The second their eyes met it was like he was back in the manor and all he cared about was obeying his master and being close to him, yet, simultaneously a voice in the back of his mind cried for freedom. It wept when he followed the order to hurt his friends. And it begged for respite when Lord Gethin dragged Ian towards his bed…

The spell was completely broken now. Ian didn’t enjoy Lord Gethin’s touch as he once did. It was cruel and he only cared for his own pleasure. Ian didn’t feel desired. He felt like an object meant only to be used for another’s gratification. And there was no escaping the feeling of shame, even after Lord Gethin finally seemed satisfied.

“Why do you weep, Ian?” he suddenly asked, snapping the boy out of his thoughts, “Tears of joy for our reunion? …or regret over your pathetic attempt to break from me?”

He stroked the boy’s cheek, wiping away a tear, before forcing him to roll onto his back, so he couldn’t hide his face in the sheets anymore and Ian realised tears were freely rolling over his cheeks.

“I do not even wish to know what possessed you to think I would not find you as soon as my slumber was disturbed...” Lord Gethin continued, “It seems I had underestimated how stupid you are. How else could you forget that you are mine.”

The back of his hand suddenly collided with Ian’s face, the smack echoing through the room like thunder. Ian’s head jerked to the side, his mouth falling open as his jaw seemed to splinter and dislocate. The pain was unbearable and he let out a strangled cry. Lord Gethin grabbed his loose jaw, wrenching it down so it could not begin to heal and making the pain marginally worse.

Ian begged for mercy, but the only sound that made it past his lips was an agonised wail.

“That is better…” Lord Gethin praised, “You deserve to suffer for abandoning me. And when I decided you have suffered enough, I will end your ungrateful and pathetic life.”

Through the pain, Ian didn’t realise Lord Gethin had hardened against him, until it was already too late and he was inside him once again. But father than thrusting his hips to push himself deeper, he pulled on Ian’s loose jaw until the rest of his body followed by sheer force.

It had been bad before…surely it wouldn’t get worse than this?

I did not proofread this one.

And thus we come full-circle! Thank you to everyone who followed these excerpts of Ian's story 💖

And thank you @unwholesomeocweek for organising this event! I had so much fun writing all these and challenging myself (I usually tone down my freak just in case, but for this one I didn't >:3c )

Taglist: @sug4rgal | feel free to ask to be added!

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[whumpsmith-participates]

Do I sacrifice the smut to finish day 6 in time or do I write it anyway?

[whumpsmith-participates]

And of course instead of making a decision, I'll do the sane thing and make a moodboard for Leander instead—

[whumpsmith-participates]

Instead of a moodboard I locked in and played a video game before finishing and posting day 6 just a couple mins after midnight 💪

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Unwholesome OC Week

June 6 - Mind Control

Contains: vampires, master/slave, degradation/belittling, mind control, memory altering, intimate whumper, grooming

They lost five more servants during Lord Nikolić’s stay and even more from the village. Enough for the townspeople to begin searching the woods for clues of a predator. And yet…Lord Gethin, while he argued with Lord Nikolić a lot, he made no attempts to force him to leave, so Ian and the servants were forced to endure the nightmare. Rumours eventually spread among them and while Ian did his best to suppress them, their whispers eventually reached Lord Gethin — And probably Lord Nikolić too.

“Come here, Ian.”

Ian looked up from his perch by the window, promptly getting up and joining Lord Gethin by his chair by the fire, kneeling out of habit so he couldn’t accidentally look down on him.

“Yes, my lord?”

“While you were out cleaning up Leandros’ mess, I heard some…interesting chatter coming from the kitchens. Do you know anything about that?”

“Their numbers have dwindled fast enough to notice something is off.” Ian said, “And they seem to agree Lord Nikolić is the common denominator.”

“A monster they call him.” Lord Gethin said, “My brother…which, by extension, is an insult to me as well.”

“Forgive them, my lord. They know not any better.” Ian pleaded.

“Indeed…” Lord Gethin mused, before suddenly getting up, “Come.”

Ian quickly got up as well and rushed to the door. He wasn’t too happy that Lord Gethin ordered him to tag along. He found it incredibly unnerving to be in a room with Lord Nikolić, even when not alone. But an order was an order, so he obediently followed Lord Gethin to the guest rooms, only stepping past him to open doors for him.

However, when they reached Lord Nikolić’s rooms…they found it abandoned. His trunk and masks were gone, the whole room seeming untouched.

“See if he left a letter anywhere.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Ian took a quick look around, eventually finding a roll of parchment perched on the mantle. He picked it up and brought it over to Lord Gethin.

He didn’t take it.

“What does it say?”

Ian opened the roll and looked at the text, before shaking his head.

“Forgive me, my lord. I am not familiar with this script.”

Lord Gethin sighed annoyed and pulled the parchment from his hands to read it himself.

“It’s Greek.” he eventually said, “He writes that he felt the town was getting restless so he has decided to move on.”

“He…has left?” Ian asked.

“That is what I just said, is it not? I thought we were past this, Ian. Or do you need a reminder to use your brain?”

“I am begging your pardon, my lord—”

“You can grovel later.” Lord Gethin cut him off, “Let us take inventory of the servants. I would not put it past Leandros to snag a meal for the journey.”

“They ought to be asleep by now, my lord.” Ian said, “They should all be upstairs.”

“Good. Come.”

They headed towards the servants’ quarters. Ian wasn’t sure why Lord Gethin needed him there other than to open doors for him, but he couldn’t help but to feel happy to be included.

They skipped the first room — Ian’s old room, which they never reassigned. The second room was shared by the head of housekeeping and the cook. One bed was empty, the mattress bare. It hadn’t been used in a while, but Ian couldn’t quite remember who it once belonged to.

Lord Gethin didn’t even glance at the empty bed, instead bending over the cook’s sleeping form, putting a hand on his head and closing is own eyes. Ian watched silently from the door opening, keeping any questions to himself in case Lord Gethin required silence to focus, or at least to not upset him.

After a good moment, Lord Gethin straightened himself and stepped away from the bed. Without saying a word, he stepped out of the room and waited for Ian to close the door behind them.

“They shall never know Leandros was here.” he said, “They shall no longer wonder where their missing brethren have gone.”

“From just that? That is fantastic, my lord.” Ian said, genuinely impressed.

“Thank you, however, not this time.” Lord Gethin said, “I will have to do this individually, so let us move on.”

“Of course, my lord.” Ian said, heading over to the next room to open the door for him.

He watched him repeat the process several times, feeling privileged to be allowed to witness what he normally couldn’t remember. He also noticed it was taking him a bit longer than a moment by the time they’d reached the last occupied rooms.

“Who is last?” Lord Gethin asked, “I must feed after all this, I might as well do that at the same time. And you also, I want no more incidents until we can find new servants. There are too few left.”

“Just two more, my lord.” Ian said, “Ilgen and Diether.”

“We had Ilgen recently, had we not?” Lord Gethin said, “I suppose Diether will do.”

Ian bowed his head, before opening the door. But as Gethin stepped into the room, he found both beds empty, the sheets disturbed as if they had been thrown aside carelessly when they got out.

“Leandros…” Gethin hissed, “Not one, but he took two. Ian!”

Ian winced a bit as Lord Gethin suddenly snapped at him and he knew he was about to receive his anger, since Lord Nikolić wasn’t here to take it out on.

“Two servants went missing and you did not even notice?!”

“F-forgive me, my lord…” Ian said, “I should have paid closer attention to your servants…”

“Yes, you should have!” Lord Gethin said, “However…I forgive you, I have kept you from them.”

“M-my lord…” Ian said, though he wasn’t quite sure what else to say.

Lord Gethin didn’t seem to mind. His expression had softened and he reached out a hand, gently touching Ian’s face as he cupped it. His fingers curling around onto the nape of his neck and pulling him closer. Ian obediently stepped forward, not quite sure whether he was about to receive praise or if Lord Gethin would change his mind again and punish him after all, but he knew better than to upset him, so he silently waited to see what would happen next.

“Perhaps…I shall allow you to call me Master, in private.”

“That…that is too informal for me to call you that, my lord…” Ian stammered.

“Hence, in private.”

His hand slipped down to Ian’s chin, tilting his head up as he leaned in closer, stopping only an inch away from his face.

“Say it.”

“Yes…” Ian said breathlessly, “…Master.”

“Good.”

And he kissed him.

And Ian’s mind went blank until he forgot why he was in an unused servants’ room with Lord Gethin and all he remembered was how happy he felt to have the privilege to be so close to and loved by his master.

A short one today...tbf mind control happens throughout all the parts haha. There's no emphasis on it though, because it's mostly based on Ian's POV and he doesn't know when it's happening.

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Taglist: @sug4rgal | feel free to ask to be added!

Masterlist | Main account

[whumpsmith-participates]

Do I sacrifice the smut to finish day 6 in time or do I write it anyway?

[whumpsmith-participates]

And of course instead of making a decision, I'll do the sane thing and make a moodboard for Leander instead—

[whumpsmith-participates]

Do I sacrifice the smut to finish day 6 in time or do I write it anyway?

[whumpsmith-participates]

Unwholesome OC Week

June 5 - Dubcon / Possessive Behaviour

Contains: still vampires, dubcon, whumpee forced to SA someone (<- implied, not portrayed), isolation, burns (scars), dehumanisation, blood drinking, gore, minor character death, grooming, intimate whumper, dubcon again

It had been some weeks, perhaps even moons, since Ian’s transformation. He learned in a most cruel way what happens if a vampire doesn’t feed. He became exactly what he feared; A monster with no regard for human life. At least…that’s what Lord Gethin essentially told him what happened.

Ian had no memory of it. As far as he knew, one moment he was chained to the wall, the next he was sitting over someone’s corpse, feeling incredibly guilty, even though he couldn’t even remember his name or his face…

He remembered where he was buried, though. He could see the path leading to the forest behind the manor from the window in Lord Gethin’s room. He’d been mostly confined to Lord Gethin’s chambers ever since. Without restraints, though the manacles still hung from the wall like a silent threat.

He had become merely a phantom to the other servants, only acknowledged by them when Lord Gethin needed him to tell them something. Which was also one of the only times he was allowed to leave his chambers. Other times was when Lord Gethin asked him to fetch him something, though usually he would summon one of the servants to do that for him.

Only at night did he ask Ian instead of the servants. Humans needed to rest every night, after all. They didn’t. It was a strange sensation and Ian still wasn’t used to it. He still longed for his bed once the sun set, but instead that meant it was time for his daily meal.

One of the servants would come in. Lord Gethin would either lead him to the bed or ask him to approach. Ian was to wait where he happened to be standing or seated. The first sip was always for Lord Gethin and only after he was satisfied he would call Ian over and allowed him to drink what was left. Sometimes it was only a sip or two before he was ordered to stop. Enough to keep him sane, but not enough to satisfy him.

He couldn’t complain, though. Literally. Lord Gethin forbade it. Once he had gotten over the shock of his transformation, Ian realised quite fast that he couldn’t disobey Lord Gethin’s commands, even when he wanted to. (Which wasn’t often.) Whatever he ordered, Ian’s body always moved before his mind could and Lord Gethin knew it all too well.

Lord Gethin didn’t like to share. That’s why he stopped Ian from drinking more blood than he needed at the least. At most he would share…himself, after the feeding. Make Ian and the half-conscious servant take turns.

“Show him how to do it properly.” he would say.

And Ian obeyed.

He didn’t mind being a phantom so much anymore. He wasn’t proud of the things he helped them do. That he forced them to do… It was the only time he considered to disobey and the worst time to find that he couldn’t. But the servants didn’t seem to remember even seconds after and Ian told himself the limited interaction he was allowed with them would prevent them from remembering as well.

A small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

If he wasn’t doing tasks for Lord Gethin or entertaining him otherwise, Ian spent his days reading the books he was allowed to borrow or staring out the window, watching either the clouds or the stars in the night sky slowly pass by. He also kept the room tidy and the fire in the hearth burning.

Some days, Lord Gethin gave him a lesson. Either about Ian’s new condition or just anything that happened to come to mind. About the book Ian asked to read or its author, or about the stars he caught him staring at. Ian liked those lessons, they were a kindness. The “vampire lessons” however…could go either way.

Sometimes they were simple. Lord Gethin merely answered a question when Ian asked it. Like why he wasn’t allowed to go out during the day, after Lord Gethin explicitly forbade it.

“Are the stories true, my lord?” he had asked, “Do we perish in the light of the sun?”

“No, Ian, the sun is not that powerful.” Lord Gethin had replied, not looking up from his book, “But it darkens our skin like peasants spending all day in the sun for the entire harvest season in merely a few hours. And we are not peasants.”

Other times he liked to demonstrate and that usually meant he was going to teach Ian what could still harm him as a vampire. Like when he asked why he couldn’t see his reflection in a decorative mirror in the library, but could still see it in the window that night…

Ian glanced down at his wrist. There was still a red burn on it, from the silver bracelet Lord Gethin made him wear til sunrise. The sun was setting now and the burn still hadn’t healed. Lesson learned. Avoid touching silver.

“It gets worse as you grow older.”

Ian looked up. Lord Gethin, who had been warming himself by the fire, had suddenly turned and addressed him.

“It…will not heal, my Lord?” Ian asked, looking back down at his wrist.

“Have your ears ceased to work?” Lord Gethin chided, “You shall be healed come morning, I already told you this. But the older you get, the more severely silver will burn you. I daren’t even touch it through cloth…”

Ian struggled to imagine Lord Gethin being hurt so easily. And supposedly worse than what he experienced the other night. He’d been sobbing and begging for mercy within the hour. He was sure something that would harm Lord Gethin would have him begging for the final mercy of death.

Lord Gethin stepped over to him, putting a hand under his chin and making him look up.

“Best not dwell on it.” he said. His fingers kept pulling at Ian’s chin, as if he had them hooked around his jawbone, so he stood up and followed the pull until his face was merely inches from Lord Gethin’s. Ian parted his lip, knowing a kiss was next. He tilted his head exactly the way Lord Gethin preferred it…and then they both froze.

A crack echoed through the manor like a crack of thunder in a clear blue sky.

Once. Twice. And then again.

“Someone…at the door.” Lord Gethin slowly said, finally recognising the noise.

Someone was using the heavy cast-iron knocker on the front door. Ian was surprised it was useable at all. He was sure it had rusted into place. They had never had a visitor ever since they moved in. He suspected Lord Gethin made sure the nearby village was unaware the manor was even there and the staff had only used the back entrance by the kitchens. The front door was only for Lord Gethin and Lord Gethin never left. At least, not that Ian could recall.

He looked back at Lord Gethin, still so very close to his face, so he made sure to speak in a quiet voice as to not upset him.

“Shall I answer, my lord?” he nearly whispered.

“Yes.” Lord Gethin said, “I shall meet them in the parlour, we might get a decent meal out of it…”

Ian regretted his suggestion to answer, but he stepped back and inclined his head, before heading towards the door. The servant’s door, out of habit, still. Lord Gethin didn’t protest. He just told him to hurry, before one of the servants beat him to it.

The main hall was deserted. Ian realised all the servants were sat down for supper, so they probably hadn’t heard the knocker at all and there was no bell connected to the door to alert them either. The door was locked firmly shut and if it hadn’t been for his recently increased strength, Ian was sure it would have been impossible to open.

The lock opened with a crack that rang in his sensitive ears and the hinges creaked in such a way that it appeared the very house was moaning as it finally got to stretch a very achy joint. Ian couldn’t stand the sound, so he only opened it about halfway, standing in the opening and observing the lone figure on their doorstep.

It was unlike anything he had ever seen before. The figure was clad in rich reds, golden and brown fabric. They looked soft and velvety and sturdy. Sewn and embroidered with golden thread. The sleeves of their doublet and their hose were puffed, giving them an almost comically round appearance. A white, lace collar rested on their shoulders, upon which some curled locks of auburn hair rested.

But Ian only got a brief glance of the figure’s absurd outfit as his eye was quickly drawn by their face…or lack thereof. The man wore a mask that resembled a painted face, with an exaggerated smile formed by golden lips and eyes surrounded by nearly hypnotic swirls of black, red and gold. It was tucked against the figure’s face securely by a red velvet hat adorned with some plumage.

Hands clad in black gloves and adorned with bejewelled rings gracefully rested on the head of a cane, the figure tilting its head as Ian appeared to be at a loss of words.

“Will you not invite a weary traveller inside?”

It was a man’s voice. He spoke with an accent that Ian couldn’t quite place. And hearing him speak while the mouth on his mask stayed still was rather unsettling.

“I am begging your pardon, master.” Ian said politely, “We rarely see travellers here.”

“And that is a reason to leave them out in the cold?”

“Only if they have no business here.” Ian said curtly.

He hoped he could deter the stranger from wanting to enter so his life may be spared. But then he leaned forward and in the shade of the mask that fell over his eyes, Ian could have sworn he saw a glint of red in the dark void where his eyes should be.

“I assure you, I have business here.” he said, his voice akin to a purr, “I wish to see Reverend Gethin…or does he go by a different title these days?”

That changed things.

“You know Lord Gethin?” Ian asked.

“In-ti-mate-ly.” the stranger emphasised, before straightening up again and tapping his cane on the floor and demanding, “Invite me in!”

“Your name, if you please.” Ian responded, refusing to be intimidated.

“Well, if Colin goes by Lord Gethin presently, I suppose you may call me Lord Leander Nikolić.”

“…very well.” Ian said, opening the door properly and gesturing for him to pass through, “Do come in, Lord Nikolić.”

“Lord” Nikolić stepped inside with a smooth gait, his boots tapping quietly on the stone floor. He carried his cane, before thumping it on the floor with a definitive click as he stopped in the middle of the main hall and looked around.

The house groaned as Ian closed the door again, the lock closing reminding him of a cough. After that he turned back to Lord Nikolić to find him reaching for his mask and pulling it down, revealing his eyes…and pausing there. They were indeed red, like Lord Gethin’s and Ian’s and suddenly the young man realised how this man might be related to Lord Gethin.

“Lead the way~” he said, the glint of a smile in his eyes.

Ian inclined his head and headed towards the left.

“My lord shall see you in the parlour.” he said, before knocking on the door and opening it.

Lord Gethin was stood by the window next to the fireplace, a small fire had barely gotten started. Ian briefly wondered if Lord Gethin had started it himself or whether he had rushed one of the servants while Ian was talking with their visitor. Then he cleared his throat and announced him.

“My lord…a Lord Nikolić is here to see you.”

Lord Gethin suddenly whipped around, his glare making Ian very nervous. Had he done something wrong? Or was he not as familiar with Lord Nikolić as their visitor claimed? Or was he perhaps…too familiar?

“Leandros?” he said.

Before Ian could answer he was pushed aside, the tip of Lord Nikolić’s cane poking painfully in his back as he forced him to step forward so he could enter the room.

“Colin!” he greeted, the way one might greet an old friend. He dramatically spread both his arms, cane in one hand, his mask in the other.

Ian circled the room past the wall until he stood behind his lord and he could see why Lord Nikolić hid his face behind a mask. He was smiling unconservatively, sharp fangs glinting in the light from the fire.

He was a vampire. Like Lord Gethin.

“What on earth brings you here?” Lord Gethin asked, not greeting the man with the same enthusiasm.

“Can a man not simply wish to see his dearly beloved brother~?” Lord Nikolić said, before sitting down uninvited.

“Simple is not and adjective I associate with you.” Lord Gethin said dismissively.

“Oh you wound me!” Lord Nikolić cried out, draping himself dramatically over his chair.

“Why are you here?” Lord Gethin asked again, “Last I heard you returned to Greece.”

“Yes and it has been awful. They are all Christians now!” Lord Nikolić said, “Not an ounce of fun to be had! I travelled from country to country for a few centuries and wound up in Venice and it has been perfect!”

“They dress like that in Venice now?” Lord Gethin just asked.

“The elite do.” Lord Nikolić replied with a shrug, “Which is why it is perfect. Men and women already throw themselves at me because it looks like I have money and they are not deterred until it is already too late because my mask hides my fangs~ And if I allow them to live…they will not even recognise me next time because I can just wear a different mask~”

“And yet. You are here.” Lord Gethin deadpanned.

“Well yes, you can only slaughter so many lambs each carnival season before the sheep panic.” Lord Nikolić said with a shrug.

“So you have overplayed your hand once again and you have come to seek shelter?” Lord Gethin asked.

“I merely need to lay low for a while and I figured my darling brother is always so proud of his flock he may shelter me until I can safely return to Venice~”

Ian’s chest tightened. His heart didn’t beat so it couldn’t skip one, but it should have in response to the anxiety that suddenly washed over him. This man, who kept referring to humans as animals, wanted to stay and live off of the servants as well.

Ian had accepted that he wasn’t human anymore, but he couldn’t let go of the feeling that the servants had once been like brothers to him — They still were. Which was part of why he didn’t enjoy to feed from them, even if it was a necessary evil.

Even Lord Gethin cared for them in a way. Knowing every death would impact their food security. He only took what he needed and made sure Ian did the same. But he didn’t appear to have the same hold over Lord Nikolić as he did others and Lord Nikolić appeared to hold no value for human life at all.

Or at least, too little to not draw attention to himself. Lord Gethin had taught Ian that while humans were weaker than them in every regard, there was one way they did have an upper hand on vampires and that was sheer numbers. Numbers that could be used against a lone powerful creature if they were aware enough that there was something to be afraid of.

That was why they only fed from the nearby town as a last resort. And Ian wondered if that was what they would need to placate Lord Nikolić.

“My lord?” Ian quietly spoke up, “I could fetch your guest something to…eat from town?”

“Why go all the way back there when you have plenty of warm blood under this very roof?” Lord Nikolić asked, “I can smell them~ Your deliciously docile pets~”

Ian’s stomach churned and he gave Lord Gethin an anxious and pleading look.

“My lord?” he asked, only able to pray that he would choose to protect his servants.

“You forget yourself, Ian.” Lord Gethin eventually said, “Show our guest to his rooms, I’ll ask one of the servants to arrange a meal for him.”

Ian quickly looked down and bowed his head apologetically.

“I am begging your pardon, my lord.” he said, before turning to their guest, “Whenever you are ready, I shall show you to your rooms, Lord Nikolić.”

“I knew I could count on you, Colin my dear brother!” he said as he got up, “And after I have fed you simply must tell me about your little thrall~”

He eyed Ian with a smirk and suddenly Ian didn’t want to be alone with this man.

“He can tell you himself.” Lord Gethin said dismissively, “Off you go now.”

Ian reluctantly obeyed, heading back towards the parlour door and holding it open for Lord Nikolić. At least it wasn’t a direct command, so he could simply tell him nothing if he didn’t want to, which he didn’t.

He waited for Lord Nikolić to step out into the hall before closing the door to the parlour and leading him up the stairs. They had guest rooms, only they never used them. Still, they were frequently cleaned and maintained, simply to make sure the staff kept busy. And conveniently for Lord Nikolić, they had been cleaned recently again.

The guest rooms were a bit smaller than Lord Gethin’s rooms, but they still had everything one might need: A comfortable bed, a dresser for clothes, a fireplace to keep warm, a chaise longue to rest on, and in the corner a close stool to more comfortably use the chamber pot.

“I shall make the bed for you, if you allow.” Ian said, noticing the bed had been left bare while Lord Nikolić looked around approvingly.

“How long have you been a thrall?”

Ian paused on his way to the door to fetch some sheets and paused, turning back.

“How long have I been what, my lord?” he asked, confused.

“A thrall.” Lord Nikolić repeated, “You are enslaved to Colin, are you not? As a result of your transformation?”

“I agreed to serve him for eternity, yes.” Ian said.

“Yes, well, that is called a thrall. You are bound to Colin. You are his thrall.”

“I see…” Ian said, “As for how long…I am unsure. Some weeks, I believe, perhaps even moons.”

“Well surely you have already realised that we do not require sleep then, silly boy.”

“My apologies.” Ian said, “Lord Gethin likes to rest on his bed and prefers it made. I assumed you might prefer that too.”

“Oh, so you were being thoughtful?” Lord Nikolić asked with a chuckle, “How delectable~”

“So…you do not wish for the bed to be made?” Ian asked.

“Later.” Lord Nikolić said, “I’d rather you get a fire going. It is freezing in here.”

Ian inclined his head and knelt down by the fireplace to get a fire going. Lord Nikolić hovered behind him, probably just hoping to catch the first warmth as soon as Ian got a decent flame going. Ian paid him no mind, making sure the fire was ventilated properly before getting back up. He turned to ask if their guest wanted anything else, only to find he had been standing right behind him.

Lord Nikolić was wearing his mask again, head tilted slightly as his fabricated nose nearly touched Ian’s. Ian blinked, but other than that he held still, glancing at the red glint behind the mask’s eye holes.

“Is there anything else I may help you with, my lord?” he asked.

“Tell me…” he purred behind the mask, “Why did he choose to transform you?”

“So I may serve him for eternity.” Ian answered.

“Serve him how?”

“However he needs, of course.” Ian said. He wanted to step back, but he could feel the hearth’s mantle against the back of his head.

“However he needs, huh?” Lord Nikolić repeated, “Are you just an easy lay then?”

“M-my lord?”

Lord Nikolić chuckled underneath his mask, but before he could elaborate, there was a knock on the door. He looked at the door over his shoulder and Ian took the chance to slip away and headed over to open the door. It was Ruben, one of the servants. He was nearly Ian’s age and usually oversaw the room cleanings.

“Oh, Ian!” he said, sounding surprised, “Lord Gethin said we have a guest and asked me to see to him.”

“…of course.” Ian said, “I had just finished showing him around.”

He opened the door further and let Ruben in, only for the boy to pause in the doorway as he saw their guest’s appearance. He seemed at a loss for words, until Ian gave him a nudge.

“Don’t be rude, Ruben!” he quietly hissed, nudging him inside so he could close the door again.

“My apologies!” Ruben quickly said, bowing his head.

“Ruben, this is Lord Nikolić, he is Lord’s Gethin’s guest. My lord, this is Ruben.”

“It’s a pleasure to have you, my lord.” Ruben said, bowing his head again, managing to keep his cool so long as he didn’t look at their masked visitor.

“Oh the pleasure is all mine~” Lord Nikolić said, his artificial face unmoving, but the tone of his voice betrayed he was looking the boy over.

“Would you like a late dinner, my lord?” Ruben offered, “Our cook can make you a tray.”

“Dinner sounds delightful, but a tray shan’t be necessary.” Lord Nikolić replied, “Come closer, let me see you in a better light.”

Ruben didn’t move. Instead he glanced at Ian questioningly. And Ian wasn’t sure what to tell him. He knew what Lord Nikolić really wanted for dinner, but he was only familiar with Lord Gethin’s methods, who would have already put Ruben in some kind of trance at this point to ensure he would be perfectly obedient.

A calmer human’s blood tastes better, after all, Lord Gethin had said.

Ian didn’t know what Lord Nikolić preferred, but he knew interfering would upset Lord Gethin, so he nodded and gestured for Ruben to do as requested. With Ian’s permission, Ruben stepped over to Lord Nikolić, still making sure to keep a respectful distance as well and trying to look anywhere but at the creepy mask.

“Do not fear, boy…”

Ian could hear the smirk in his voice and he wondered if he should slip out and pretend to have been dismissed. But he couldn’t do that to Ruben, so he stayed. Stood silently by the door as he watched the scene unfold.

“Would you prefer it if I removed my mask?”

“W-what I prefer is not important, my lord.” Ruben respectfully said.

Lord Nikolić chuckled, reaching for his mask and pulling it down. His eyes peeked over the edge, the lower half of his face still covered.

“I see Colin trained you well~” he said, “Do you know any other tricks? Turn for me.”

Ruben shot Ian another confused look as he began to slowly turn around, but Ian was conveniently focussed on wiping a speck of dust off of his sleeve and didn’t look back up until Ruben had already turned further and was facing Lord Nikolić again, who chuckled behind his mask again.

“Delightful~” he said, “Come. Sit.”

Before Ruben got the chance to politely decline, Lord Nikolić already essentially swept him off his feet and laid him down on the chaise longue and pinned him there.

“M-my lord?” Ruben gasped, trying to shuffle back, but his back was against the armrest. He looked at Ian for help, but Ian seemed to be looking directly past him, with a vacant look in his eyes.

“Hush, boy…” Lord Nikolić said, removing his mask entirely and putting it aside.

Ruben looked back at him and saw his fanged grin. And he screamed.

There was no reassurance, no gentle touch, no merciful mind control; Just Ruben screaming and Lord Nikolić’s deep, guttural hiss before he tore into the boy’s flesh…

Ian had planned to take Ruben to Lord Gethin afterwards, hoping he would allow him the mercy of forgetting this night. But then the screaming abruptly stopped and the sweet smell of blood quickly turned rotten and Ian knew it was too late.

He stared at the back of the chaise longue, watching Lord Nikolić slowly sit up, licking the blood off of his lips. Ruben’s arm, which had been gripping the back rest in terror, now hung limply over it. Lord Nikolić looked at Ian with a bloodied grin.

“Yes~?” he asked.

“Y-you killed him…” Ian managed to say.

“Oh, my apologies. Had you wanted a sip~?”

Ian hesitated at first, before coming to his senses and shaking his head.

“Well then don’t just stand there.” Lord Nikolić said, “Clean this up before it stinks up the room.”

He got off of the boy, heading over to the washing basin to clean his face, while Ian slowly stepped over to the chaise longue and viewed the carnage left behind. Half of Ruben’s throat had been eaten away, his face twisted in fear, still wet with tears, his eyes wide and bloodshot.

Ian felt his own eyes begin to water as he knelt besides the boy and stroked his hair. And for the first time, as far as he remembered, he likened Lord Gethin to a monster — In his mannerisms, not his nature. It was impossible that he didn’t know Lord Nikolić would murder Ruben. He chose to send him, knowing his friend would have no mercy.

Lord Gethin sacrificed Ruben.

Ian buried Ruben in the forest behind the manor, among the shallow graves of others whose names he didn’t remember. He didn’t have the time to dig a deeper grave for Ruben either. He had to hurry back and remove the chaise longue from the guest room. Much of Ruben’s blood had spilled into the fabric and he knew it would stink up the room as badly as a corpse would.

Something about blood from a deceased person was inherently disgusting, though he wasn’t sure why, but he assumed it was bad for them one way or another and he also couldn’t stand the smell. So he stopped in the now-deserted kitchen to wash the blood and mud off of his hands before heading back to Lord Nikolić room.

However, when he returned, he found the doors open and he could hear Lord Gethin’s voice. So he ran the last few steps and stopped in the doorway, holding his breath. Lord Gethin was talking to Lord Nikolić, pressing a handkerchief against his nose against the smell from the chaise longue.

“I offer you a room and a meal and this is how you repay me?” he said, “His life was not yours to end, it was mine.”

Lord Nikolić shrugged, seeming rather unimpressed by Lord Gethin’s lecture.

“Did you not choose to end it by offering it to me?” he reasoned, “If it pleases you, I did rather enjoy it~”

“I gathered that.” Lord Gethin said, gesturing at the blood stain on the chaise longue, “Do not let it happen again.”

“Or what? You will sic your precious thrall on me~?”

Lord Gethin glanced back at Ian, who was still stood in the door opening and, for a moment, Ian feared he was considering the option, but then Lord Nikolić continued.

“Go ahead.” he said, “I shall thoroughly enjoy putting him in his place~”

“You will do no such thing.” Lord Gethin said, “Perhaps one day if you have a thrall of your own you can put that in its place, but you shan’t touch mine.”

“You might wish to remind your thrall of that~” Lord Nikolić teased, “He did not seem inclined to reject any of my advances~”

Lord Gethin’s glare now fixed on Ian and the boy instinctively took a step back, before realising that Lord Nikolić was being untruthful.

“M-my lord,” he said, “there were no—”

He promptly stopped when Lord Gethin held up his hand, anxiously awaiting his reaction.

“Go to my chambers.” he said, “I shall speak with you when I am done here.”

“Y-yes, my lord.” Ian said, bowing his head before backing out of the room and closing the door.

Lord Gethin’s chambers were on the opposite end of the manor from the guest room, but by the time Ian reached it he could still hear the argument between him and Lord Nikolić. He couldn’t understand it, however. They spoke in a language he didn’t recognise.

Ian closed the door and waited by the window, staring at the path leading to the forest behind the manor until he heard the voices or Lord Gethin and Lord Nikolić subside. A door closed and he could hear Lord Gethin’s footfalls approaching the room. So Ian turned away from the window and looked down as he waited for the door to open.

As soon as it opened, he bowed his head properly, tensing up a bit as Lord Gethin closed the door rather harshly. He marched over to the fireplace, pausing there, probably warming himself a bit by the flames, before turning around.

“Come here.”

Ian stepped towards him, suddenly feeling anxious about what Lord Nikolić might have said. Lord Gethin’s hand brushed past his cheek and over the back of his head and Ian relaxed a bit. But then Lord Gethin suddenly gripped his hair tightly and forced him to look up. Ian gasped a bit in surprise, but he knew better than to protest, so he stayed quiet as he peered up at Lord Gethin.

“Tell me the truth.” he said, “Did my foolish brother touch you the way I have touched you?”

“No, my lord.” Ian said.

“And if he had…what would you have done?”

Ian thought for a second, before assuming Lord Gethin still wanted the truth.

“I-I am unsure, my lord.” he said, “It never occurred to me that he might. O-or anyone for that matter. All my life…there has only ever been you, my lord.”

“And don’t you ever forget that, Ian.” Lord Gethin said, thankfully letting go of Ian’s hair and cupping his cheek instead, “You are my most perfect creation. And no one gets to soil that. You were mine the second I encouraged your father to first speak to your mother. I gave you life and eternal life and all I am asking in return is that you remain loyal so long as we both walk this earth.”

Ian wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He felt warm and loved, but he also felt guilty as he still questioned Lord Gethin’s decision to send Ruben to Lord Nikolić’s room…but then he also seemed upset that the boy’s life had been cut short, so had Ian been in the wrong to judge his decision?

Lord Gethin’s thumb brushed over his cheek before he retracted his hand and Ian realised he had shed a tear. Though whether it was joy or regret he couldn’t say for sure. Fortunately Lord Gethin didn’t seem to know either and paid it no mind altogether.

“Disrobe.” he just said, gesturing towards his bed, “Show me how loyal you are.”

Ian undressed slowly, taking off one piece of clothing at a time as he slowly stepped towards the bed, only arriving once he was fully nude. Then he first walked around, carefully untying and closing the drapes around the bed, except for the last one. He untied the last drape by the headboard on the side that faced the hearth and held it aside for Lord Gethin.

Lord Gethin shed his robes before he approached, pushing Ian rather harshly onto the mattress and crawling in after him. The curtain fell closed, leaving only a small crack through which Ian could see the flickering of the flames in the hearth, reflected in a thin stripe on the canopy. Something to focus on while he had his head tilted back so Lord Gethin could kiss his throat, slowly working his way up and over his jaw before forcing him to tilt his head back so he could kiss his lips.

The room was silent, other than the crackling from the fire, the rustling of sheets, and quiet gasps. Lord Gethin positioned Ian more to his liking, digging his nails into his skin to prompt the boy to move, whilst simultaneously still pinning him down with a long kiss.

When he eventually broke the kiss, he sat up, tracing a finger over Ian’s lips until he opened his mouth. Lord Gethin pushed his finger in. His middle finger first and his ring finger second, pressing down on Ian’s tongue and holding them there, while with his free hand he prompted the boy to spread his legs further as he nestled between them.

Ian thought he could feel Lord Gethin’s nails scrape against the back of his throat and he gagged, squeezing his eyes shut as he knew how Lord Gethin usually responded to that. Instead of pulling out, he pushed his fingers deeper until Ian calmed down. It wasn’t so bad now that he didn’t really need to breathe anyway, but suppressing the reflex still took a lot of effort.

By the time he managed to hold still long enough for Lord Gethin to finally pull his fingers out, Ian had fresh tears rolling down the side of his face and seeping into the velvet blankets. Meanwhile Lord Gethin simply took his fingers, drenched in saliva, and positioned them between Ian’s legs, pushing into him once again.

It was unpleasant and cold, but Ian knew it was just temporary. He would forget about this soon until the next time. Usually as soon as Lord Gethin pulled his fingers out before he finally——

Ian moaned and the last bit of tension in his body dissipated as he essentially melted in Lord Gethin’s hands. Hands that pulled at his waist until he couldn’t get closer and he was lifted off the mattress instead. Lifted until his whole body was pressed against Lord Gethin, chest against chest, arms wrapped around, and his face pressed into the crook of his neck.

For a moment Lord Gethin held Ian like he never had before, arms wrapped around him tightly, nearly squeezing the air out of him. But then they loosened, his hands drifting down to Ian’s waist, holding him in place while he began rocking his hips. Ian moaned again as Lord Gethin thrust in and out of him at a steady pace.

Steady, but slow.

And Ian knew it would be a while before he would see beyond the drapes of the bed again.

THIS ONE IS SO LONG SORRY LOL

Not actually sorry, I had a lot of fun introducing Leander Nikolić (even if I did spend about two hours figuring out how to type the ć without having to copy and paste the character every time and ended up learning some coding oh my gawd).

Gethin refers to him as Leandros as that's what he first called himself when they met, but he goes by Leander now :3

@unwholesomeocweek

Taglist: @sug4rgal | feel free to ask to be added!

Masterlist | Main account

[whumpsmith-participates]

Unwholesome OC Week

June 4 - Mindbreak / Nonconsensual Voyeurism

Contains: vampires, forced to obey/mind control, isolation, separation anxiety, tummy ache, belittling/degradation, intimate whumper, hair pulling, chains, chained to the wall, dubcon, underage dubcon, forced to watch, envy/jealousy, blood drinking, craving blood, starvation

Ian was still in the unfamiliar, cold, stone room. He felt like he’d wasted his limited energy on tears, but at least the exhaustion forced him to calm down a bit. He was curled up on the floor, the cold chilling him to the bone and he just couldn’t get warm. He couldn’t even shiver. He assumed he was too exhausted for even that and he expected to drift off to sleep any second now…

But he didn’t.

Instead, he perked up as he realised he could hear footfalls. Faintly, in the distance, growing closer and closer before finally the door’s lock opened like a gunshot in the middle of the night. Ian managed to sit up, his joints stiff and aching, and peered at the door.

It was Lord Gethin.

Ian nearly managed to cry again, but from happiness this time. He should be on his feet, but he only barely managed to drag himself towards his lord and sit on his knees as he bowed his head.

“Oh good. You have awoken.” Lord Gethin said, “Look at me…how are you feeling?”

Ian looked up, his lip trembling a bit.

“I-I don’t understand, my lord…” he quietly admitted, “What is happening to me?”

“I shall let that slide on account of the transformation being so intense.” Lord Gethin said, before grinning, “I made you like me~”

Ian then realised that he’d never seen Lord Gethin grin so widely before; and with good reason, it seemed. His grin revealed a set of elongated and sharp teeth. And all of a sudden, it all clicked. His thirst for blood, why he was awake every night, why he never went outside, the seemingly magical hold he had on people, and how he hadn’t aged a day in all the years Ian had known him.

Still. Even when it all made perfect sense, he couldn’t believe it.

“What…what are you, my lord?” he asked breathlessly.

“We…” Lord Gethin corrected, “are a superior kind. We are stronger, faster, and smarter than humans. We outlive them and we outrank them in every way. Really, they are no better than livestock if you ask me. Something to breed and raise so we don’t run out of food.”

“Ein…ein Nachzehrer?” Ian muttered, slipping into his mother tongue from shock, “Nein…”

“Ein Vampir.” Lord Gethin said.

“No—” Ian cried, before abruptly falling into a mortified silence, covering his mouth with his hands.

Lord Gethin raised a brow.

“No?” he repeated, “Did you not swear to serve me for eternity? I give you the ability to do so and you tell me no?”

“I-I am begging your pardon…” Ian said, lowering his hands a bit, “I-I just…y-you did not say—”

“Stop talking.” Lord Gethin interrupted, “You should have known exactly what I was offering if you used your brain for once. Must I really spell it out for you?”

Ian tried to apologise again, but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to talk. He opened his mouth and only silent air came out, his voice somehow caught in his throat.

“I have given you eternal life in exchange for eternal service.” Lord Gethin said, “And it comes with many other benefits. With me, specifically, that means an endless supply of food. I have become so good at controlling humans. You shall never want for anything unless I decide you should. I have given you a better life, Ian, for eternity…”

Ian gulped. Of course, of course he was grateful for such an invaluable gift. To be chosen among all the other servants to serve their lord for an eternity. To be needed so badly by his lord that he made sure to be able to keep him around forever. But in spite of all of that, he couldn’t quite stomach the idea of…feeding on his fellow servants in the way Lord Gethin fed on them.

He didn’t want to drink blood. He wanted his morning tea, the cook’s rabbit stew, hell— Even the kitchen help’s undercooked potatoes sounded more appetising than the kitchen help’s blood. And yet…he couldn’t express any of these feelings to Lord Gethin, as he still couldn’t seem to muster up the words. He couldn’t take his eyes off of him either, as if he was back under his spell…

“Tell me, Ian…What do you want?” Lord Gethin asked.

“…tea, my lord.” Ian replied. He wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was just the first that came to mind once he found his voice back.

“Hm…” Lord Gethin just hummed, before slowly turning around and heading back towards the door.

By the time Ian could bring himself to move and speak up more, he’d already stepped through and closed it behind him.

“W-wait, my lord!” Ian said hoarsely, a sudden rush of panic giving him the strength to get to his feet and stumble towards the door.

But it was already locked.

“Please!” he cried through the heavy wood, “Don’t leave me alone, please! Bidde! Bidde, mein Herr!”

But he could painfully clearly hear Lord Gethin’s footsteps die away as he kept on walking, no matter how much Ian pleaded, leaving him all alone again.

Ian had no idea how much time passed before he heard footsteps again. He desperately sat up, peering at the door as he heard them close in. And then the lock clicked and the door swung open. Lord Gethin had returned.

“M-my lord!” Ian gasped, scrambling back to his knees, “P-please! Forgive me! I-I will do better, but please don’t leave me alone!”

“Stop snivelling.” Lord Gethin just said.

Ian abruptly choked back a sob, holding his breath as he looked up at him.

“I see your bond to me is already quite strong.” Lord Gethin continued, “Stand up.”

Ian got up to his feet, still holding his breath. He didn’t feel the need to breathe, he wasn’t getting light-headed or felt any pressure on his chest…so he didn’t even notice he was holding his breath, but it helped him calm down nonetheless.

“Much better.” Lord Gethin praised, “Now come with me. I’ve ordered tea to my room for you.”

He turned around and walked off, leaving the door open for now. Ian didn’t even get the chance to process what this could mean, it was like he was running on autopilot, his feet moving before his brain could. And before he knew it, he was following Lord Gethin through a narrow, dark corridor.

He didn’t recognise it, until they ascended a narrow staircase and ended up in one of the corridors in the basement. They were somewhere just past the kitchen. He could smell that the cook had been working on something. It was a little overwhelming and nauseating, but he didn’t get to dwell on it for too long, as Lord Gethin was already moving for the stairs that would take them to the main hall.

From there, they moved to Lord Gethin’s room and Ian felt like he could see vague visions of what happened when he was last in there. He glanced over at the bed, to which the vision faded and the bed simply looked as pristine as ever. Not a single trace of…that.

“Here it is.”

Lord Gethin gestured at a tray on the side-table next to his armchair, a teapot and empty cup neatly waiting for him.

“Go ahead and pour yourself a cup.” Lord Gethin said while sitting down in said armchair.

“Thank you, my lord.” Ian said, stepping closer to reach the tray.

He picked up the teapot and gently poured some hot tea int the cup. The smell…although he had been craving tea, the smell was nauseating again. He lifted the cup by its saucer, trying to ignore the smell as he gently gripped its handle with his other hand to take a sip.

The flavour was…okay. It was very numb compared to the smell. Dull. His new teeth scraped over the porcelain as he was still not used to their new size, but he tried to ignore it and took another sip.

“How is it?” Lord Gethin asked.

Ian lowered the cup, watching the tea ripple between the porcelain walls.

“I-I am unsure, my lord.” he quietly said, “It is both familiar and yet…unrecognisable.”

“Finish the whole cup.” Lord Gethin said.

Ian nodded and took another sip. The flavour was so disappointing he lost his appetite, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop drinking. Orders were orders, he supposed.

After five or six sips, he started to feel off. His stomach churning before he suddenly retched. The cup slipped from his hands, bouncing on the carpet and spilling the last couple of sips. Ian wanted to apologise for the spill, but he could only retch again, doubling over from a sudden painful sting in his stomach.

“Oh…I am terribly sorry.” Lord Gethin said, “Should I have warned you that you cannot have human food and drinks anymore?”

Ian shook his head, coughing and gasping for air between waves of pain as he collapsed onto his hands and knees.

“I-I should— Urk! I-I should have known…my lord…” he whimpered, trying not to cry, “Y-you never eat…”

“Good.” Lord Gethin said, “It looks like your brain is working again. Come here, the pain will pass soon…”

Ian crawled over and tentatively followed his gestures to to rest his head on his lap, to which Lord Gethin actually weaved his fingers in his hair.

“You will get used to everything soon.” he said, while Ian slowly wrapped his arms around his leg, “We shall take things slow for now, but you have already been through the worst. You will feel better than ever after a proper feeding.”

“I-I don’t want to…” Ian whispered, wincing as he could feel Lord Gethin’s nails scrape over his scalp as he slowly gripped his hair.

“You would rather starve?” he asked.

“I-I would merely prefer not to harm my fellow servants, my lord.” Ian quickly explained.

Lord Gethin’s grip on his hair remained unrelenting as he leaned forward, stopping right next to his ear.

“They are not your fellows, Ian.” he hissed, “Not anymore.”

He sat back again, his grip slowly loosening since Ian didn’t argue the matter further…until he did.

“They are innocent.” he said, “I cannot harm anyone innocent. The gods——”

“—Have no power here.” Lord Gethin interrupted, tightening his grip on the boy’s hair again, “Tell me. Is the rabbit in the cook’s stew not also innocent?”

“…y-yes, my lord.”

“Then why is this any different? We are to humans as humans are to rabbits.” Lord Gethin said, “We are obligate predators. We must eat our prey, or else…”

“O-or what, my lord?” Ian asked, “What happens if I…do not eat at all?”

“Hm…it might be easier to just show you.” Lord Gethin said, “When you have calmed down a bit, fetch the trunk underneath my bed.”

“Y-yes, my lord.” Ian said, relaxing a bit when Lord Gethin released the grip on his hair again.

They sat in silence for a moment. Ian wanted to savour every second of this rare comfort, but as soon as his stomach settled down and most of the tension left his body, he felt compelled to let go and get up. His stomach did actually still hurt when he moved, but he managed to bite through the pain as he shuffled towards Lord Gethin’s bed and looked underneath to find the large, heavy-looking trunk.

Actually it wasn’t as heavy as it looked. Ian almost thought it was empty if it hadn’t been for the rattling sound coming from inside as he picked it up and carried it over to Lord Gethin.

“Good. Set it down right there and open it up.”

Ian nodded, setting the trunk down in front of Lord Gethin and opening it. He froze upon seeing its contents: heavy-looking, thick, iron chains and shackles. Lord Gethin didn’t say anything, he simply rose from his chair and put a hand under Ian’s chin, looking him over for a moment.

“You need to know your limits, Ian.” he said, “It is an important part of your transformation. Understood?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Good.” Lord Gethin praised, putting his hand on Ian’s face before suddenly giving him a shove.

Ian hadn’t been close at all to the wall, yet in a flash he smacked against the stone with such force that the house shook and he’d slid down to the floor before he even realised what just happened. It was the kind of blow that should have killed him, though he had another vision that he had already been killed.

He slowly reached for the back of his head, pulling his hand back to find some more black blood on his fingers, but he felt no wound… He looked up at Lord Gethin. Was this what he meant with teaching him his limits? Was he just showing him how harsh of a beating he could take?

“Did that hurt?” Lord Gethin asked.

“It…did not? My lord…” Ian slowly said.

“No, a small injury like that should not hurt.” Lord Gethin said, “And even if it does hurt, it will only do so briefly, until you are healed. But healing takes energy and we can only garner energy from feeding. Feeding is all we need to thrive. We do not need rest or air— Well…we do still breathe air as it allows us to speak, but I could squeeze your throat shut for hours and you would not suffer.”

“And if I don’t feed…I die?” Ian slowly asked.

“Oh no, that would be much too easy now.” Lord Gethin said, “No, starvation will not kill you. I shall show you what it does instead—Take those manacles for me.”

He gestured to the trunk by his armchair. Ian quickly got to his feet and walked over, taking out one of the shackles, the length of chain attached, and finally the other shackle. Meanwhile Lord Gethin had walked over to the wall, pulling out two of the protruding stones, which revealed iron rings, bolted into the wall.

“Why am I not holding those manacles yet, Ian?”

“I-I am begging your pardon, my lord.” Ian said, quickly carrying the shackles and chain over to Lord Gethin.

He took them and fished a set of keys from the depths of his pockets to open them so he could thread each shackle through one of the rings, leaving them dangling from the wall.

“Now come here.”

Ian stepped closer. Lord Gethin took his arm, pulling him even closer while gently grabbing his jaw and tilting his head up.

“Remember,” he said, “this is for your own good.”

Ian wanted to ask what, but Lord Gethin kissed him. A deep kiss, gently pressing him back until he stumbled backward and his back hit the wall. His grip on his jaw tightened and he broke the kiss by forcing Ian to turn his head away.

“Kneel.” he said as he let go of the boy’s face.

Ian slowly lowered himself to his knees, keeping his eyes aimed up as he realised where this was going. The shackles on the wall were right behind him, dangling on either side of his head. He understood the phrase ‘for his own good,’ but he wasn’t entirely sure what kind of good that was supposed to be.

Fortunately, Lord Gethin seemed to know exactly what he was doing. He took Ian’s left hand, stroking his thumb over his knuckles for a bit before grabbing a tighter hold and locking one of the shackles around his wrist. He repeated the gesture on his other wrist, leaving Ian effectively chained to the wall.

“…my lord? M-may I ask—”

“Ask what? Do you not trust me, Ian?”

“O-of course, my lord, but—”

“Then there is no need to ask anything, is there?” Lord Gethin said, “Be still now. It will be nightfall soon and I don’t want you to draw attention to yourself.”

Ian gulped and sat back on his knees, resting his head against the wall. Lord Gethin walked away, changing into something more comfortable and settling on his bed with a book.

Ian lost track of time fast. The curtains in Lord Gethin’s room were drawn, so he didn’t see the sky change to help him guess the time of day. Lord Gethin’s routine included reading throughout the day, so he didn’t give a single indication either. He sat perfectly still, only moving to flip the page and only getting up to exchange his book for another before sitting back down by the fire to keep warm.

Ian looked at him hopefully, but Lord Gethin had no trouble entirely ignoring him. It probably helped that Ian sat perfectly still and quiet. He didn’t speak up or even clear his throat. He didn’t accidentally rattle the chain with small movements. He felt like he had become part of the wall, or a decorative piece of furniture, his only mercy being that he was sat close enough to the hearth to enjoy some of its warmth.

A knock on the servants’ door in a dark corner of the room was the only hint Ian got that night had fallen. The door clicked open and Ian couldn’t bare the thought of being seen in this position, so he looked down and pretended to be part of the wall.

“You sent for me, my lord?”

It was the kitchen help’s voice. His name was Jonah and he was one of the youngest on staff. He still had a lot to learn when it came to cooking or…anything really, but that didn’t seem to bother Lord Gethin as he called on the boy often.

“Yes, Jonah. Do come in.” Lord Gethin replied, putting his book aside.

“Did you want more tea, my lord?” Jonah asked, “The stove is still warm…”

“No, no, I merely require your company— Don’t mind him, keep your eyes on me, Jonah.”

Ian wagered a glance and saw Lord Gethin cupping Jonah’s face. He couldn’t help but to feel a twinge in his heart. Of course he knew exactly what went on between Lord Gethin and the other servants, given that they always had the same marks as him come morning. But to actually see it…felt different.

To sit in the corner, forgotten, while he touched Jonah so tenderly.

Kissed him.

Disrobed him…

Jonah looked up at Lord Gethin with a vacant smile as he took the boy’s hand and led him to his bed. He seemed entirely unaware of Ian being there, though it probably helped that Lord Gethin made sure Jonah didn’t need to look in Ian’s direction as he sat down on his bed first and let the boy straddle him.

Normally, Lord Gethin drew the drapes at this point, to conserve warmth, but he kept them open tonight, making eye-contact with Ian over Jonah’s shoulder as he bit down on the side of his neck. Ian couldn’t bring himself to respond, nor could he bring himself to look away. He never dared o name the feeling it gave him, besides the embarrassment he felt when looking back, but he envied Jonah.

He looked so small on top of Lord Gethin, his hands fitting amply on his chest as he held himself up, not quite ready to lower himself fully onto him. Lord Gethin didn’t want to wait, however, thrusting his hips up, to which Jonah bounced with a moan.

Ian wanted to avert his eyes, but he couldn’t. He felt drawn to the red glint on the side of Jonah’s neck, where blood dripped down his arm. Lord Gethin took his hand and bit down into his wrist. Jonah moaned again and Ian nearly did the same.

He could smell it now. The familiar coppery scent he usually tried to scrub off his skin now smelled sweet and appetising, like the sweetmeat the cook would make at the end of the harvest season and the start of winter. Ian’s mouth watered and he feared it was because of the current scent and not the memory of the treat.

He shook his head and wagered another glance at the bed. Jonah was properly riding Lord Gethin now, his hips rocking back and forth while Lord Gethin had sat up, lapping at the trail of blood on Jonah’s arm. Ian felt that envy again, only he wasn’t sure for who.

Jonah suddenly gasped sharply and shuddered. He stopped stopped, to which Lord Gethin grabbed his throat.

“Don’t stop…” he hissed.

Jonah promptly returned to rocking his hips and Lord Gethin kissed him. Ian felt sick, yet he couldn’t take his eyes off of them. Lord Gethin broke the kiss and held Jonah close, looking directly at Ian over his shoulder again, before beginning to moan as well.

Ian felt hurt and he was sure his face showed it, because Lord Gethin smiled satisfied before turning around. He pushed Jonah to the side and got up to pin him against the mattress before entering him again, picking his own pace now. Jonah moaned like he got the wind knocked out of him with each thrust and Ian knew it to be true.

And Ian wished they could switch places.

I'm like 99% sure I added alt text to my banners, but it's refusing to show, so give me a poke if it needs fixing.

Anyway I hesitated between tagging this as dubcon or noncon, but decided on dubcon instead, because even if Gethin wasn't actively hypnotising his servants, they'd still be happy to "serve" him. What makes it dubious, is that they don't know any better, or if they did, they'd know that saying no isn't an option anyway.

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Unwholesome OC Week

June 3 - Necrophilia

Contains: N E C R O P H I L I A !!!! DO NOT EAT!!!!, bruises, dressing to please, master/slave, grooming, dubcon, intimate whumper, blood drinking, gore, ritual stabbing, character death

Night had fallen. Ian was getting changed after supper, but lingered in front of the mirror in his room. He was observing the bruising on his skin. Some older, some fresh…markings left by Lord Gethin’s feeding as well as his affection. Marking his throat, his arms, his thighs…all of Lord Gethin’s favourite spots were marked as his.

Ian saw them as rewards. To be wanted by the likes of Lord Gethin was a rewards of its own, but to have undeniable proof was something else. What more could he possibly give? Did he really deserve this much praise? He had to try his hardest not to upset him, so he could feel like he did deserve all the rewards.

Lord Gethin had something important planned, after all, something special for just him.

The honour was too great to even begin describing it. Besides, he still wasn’t sure what exactly he had planned, but supposedly it would be great! Though, he found it hard to imagine anything greater than the rewards he already had.

Still, he was determined to not disappoint Lord Gethin when he was being so generous. And with that determination he washed himself and got dressed in Lord Gethin’s favourite outfit: A thin, white shirt, leaving little to the imagination, and a soft pair of trousers that would be easy to slip off.

The rain that one of the servants predicted that morning battered down on the roof of the manor, occasionally drowned out by the by crashing thunder. Ian imagined the staff might struggle to sleep with the noise, but when he went to check on them, the majority at least pretended they were asleep when he looked in. Honestly, they could’ve fooled Ian, had a flash of lightning or a crack of thunder not made some of them flinch.

Ian considered taking some time to assure them they would be fine, but he was already running late by just looking in. So he stuck to just looking, finishing his round before heading down to Lord Gethin’s chambers.

“You’re late, Ian.”

Ian gulped as he closed the door behind him, stepping further into the room and waiting for the loud rumble of the thunder to die away before speaking up.

“I am begging your pardon, my lord.” he said, “I wanted to look in on the others first, in case the storm has them restless.”

“Once you’ve seen a hundred thunderstorms you’ve seen them all.” Lord Gethin said, glancing over at the windows as the rain tapped against the glass, “Though, I doubt their feeble minds could comprehend it…”

“You have seen a hundred storms, my lord?” Ian asked.

“Oh it has definitely been more than that.” Lord Gethin said, “But yes…and in time, you will too.”

Ian stayed quiet. Asking what he meant would only upset him, so he hoped his silence would be interpreted as understanding.

“Come here. Warm yourself by the fire.” Lord Gethin said.

“Thank you, my lord.” Ian said, while stepping closer.

He kept his eyes down as he stood next to him, holding out his hands a bit to warm them, until Lord Gethin put his hand under his chin and made him look up at him.

“I will only ask you this once, though I already know the answer.” he said, “Will you serve me for all eternity, Ian?”

“O-of course, my lord!” Ian quickly said, “It is the purpose the gods gave me, serving you is all I live for, my lord.”

“Perfect…” Lord Gethin said.

And he rewarded him with a kiss.

Even in front of the fire his lips were cold, but Ian had gotten used to the sensation. He didn’t know any better. Lord Gethin pulled him closer, wasting no time as he yanked Ian’s shirt aside so roughly it tore. Ian didn’t mind, he could mend it the next day. Besides, even if he did care, he was soon distracted by Lord Gethin kissing his throat…then the side of his neck…followed by a bite.

Ian gasped as he could feel him sink his teeth in and he felt like he’d stepped into a warm bath. All the nerves and tension in him dissipated and he melted in Lord Gethin’s arms as he pulled his teeth out and began sucking on the same area, leaving another mark.

Ian felt light-headed. His knees buckled, but Lord Gethin held him up without any effort, holding him close as he continued to suck on the side of his neck, before finally stopping when the boy’s eyes began to roll back.

“No, no, not yet.” he said, putting one arm underneath Ian’s knees and lifting him off the floor.

Blood rushed back to his head and Ian just about registered Lord Gethin carrying him towards his bed, laying him down on the soft blankets and pillows. Ian felt warm, uncomfortably so. He began to undress. Lord Gethin did the same, dropping his robes on the floor before sitting over Ian, brushing his hand over the side of his neck and licking the blood off of his fingers.

“I shall miss this flavour.” he said, “I will be taking a little more than usual to savour it…”

“Y-yes, my lord.” Ian said breathlessly, dutifully holding out his arm.

Lord Gethin smiled approvingly, taking his arm and kissing his hand before biting down into his wrist. Some blood dripped down Ian’s arm as Lord Gethin switched from biting to drinking and when he had his fill, he ordered Ian to lick up his own blood before kissing him again.

He drank from the boy’s other arm next. And then his thighs. Then he returned to his throat. Ian began feeling weaker and weaker, yet also warmer and warmer. Lord Gethin was being even more gentle than usual, as well as hungry. Ian was sure he wouldn’t be able to get out of bed after all this, but he was lost in the moment and the consequences didn’t dawn on him at all.

He was entirely at Lord Gethin’s mercy…and it felt good.

Every kiss, every bite, every touch—When he lifted him up, when he pushed him back down. His hand in his air, around his throat, on his hips. Wave after wave of pleasure until he couldn’t tell up from down anymore.

The room was spinning and the world around him shrunk. It was just him and Lord Gethin. He was speaking soft words. It sounded like Latin, but Ian couldn’t quite make sense of it. He didn’t want to make sense of it. All he wanted was to continue to feel his lord’s touch and hope that he was feeling the same kind of pleasure as he did, or better yet: Even more.

And then the bubble popped.

Ian’s breath stocked, a sharp pain in the middle of his chest knocking the wind out of him. The spinning abruptly stopped. He was looking up at the canopy covering the bed. Lord Gethin sat over him, looking down at him with the usual cold stare.

Ian wanted to ask him what was going on, but he couldn’t breathe.

The sharp pain in his chest suddenly got worse. He could feel his lungs and heart tear. He tasted blood in his mouth as he barely managed to cough. Something warm and wet began trickling down his chest and onto the sheets.

He only just managed to lift his head and found a large dagger sticking out from his chest. Lord Gethin held the handle with both hands as he slowly twisted it clockwise, still talking softly in some form of Latin.

Ian spasmed. He’d lost control of his body in a whole new way. He wanted to scream from the pain, but all that came out when he opened his mouth was more blood. He wanted to desperately gasp for air, but he just breathed in the same blood he just coughed up. He desperately reached for Lord Gethin, his one lifeline whilst he slowly drowned, but it was as if he couldn’t reach him. His hands were grasping at air.

The dagger was pulled out. More blood washed over Ian’s chest. It was warm, yet he shivered. Lord Gethin continued where he left off, pulling the boy closer by his hips as his convulsing caused him to tighten around him. Lord Gethin groaned and thrust deep inside him, gripping his thigh with one hand, while leaning his other next to his head as he looked down at him.

Ian’s eyes were bulging, his face twisted in terror, his gasps interrupted by the blood pooled in the back of his throat. Lord Gethin leaned in closer and kissed him, wanting to get a last taste of his blood before it was too late. Bubbles in the blood popped against his tongue and cheek as Ian arched his back and pressed against him before going limp.

Lord Gethin sat back up, looking down at Ian’s tear- and blood-stained face. His eyes still bulging, staring off into the distance, the life in them gone… He looked down at the boy’s chest, blood was still oozing from the wound left by the dagger, darkening slowly. It would be done soon…

He reached for Ian’s face, cupping it in one hand and stroking his thumb over his cheek as he pushed deep into him again. He knew the boy would never be this warm again, so he decided to savour it, pulling him closer by his thighs and holding his limp body in place.

There was no need to hold back any longer. His only regret was that he couldn’t hear the boy cry out as he drove himself deep inside him over and over and over again. The wound in his chest stopped oozing blood. There was nothing left but the lingering warmth that was still trapped inside his body.

Lord Gethin paused, convulsing a bit himself before he gasped and sat up again. His hands traced over Ian’s waist and thighs, his skin already beginning to cool and for a moment Lord Gethin mourned the loss of his favourite servants’ warmth. But he would gain his company for eternity, as well as his loyalty, his servitude…

“All mine…” Lord Gethin said quietly to himself, lifting up the boy’s arm and kissing his hand as he burrowed himself inside him once more, “Mine…for eternity.”

The bed creaked. Lord Gethin realised only now that the storm had faded and the only sound left in the room was the rhythmic creaking of the grand four-poster bed. There was something mesmerising about the way Ian’s whole body rocked with each thrust of his hips. His head lolled to the side, his eyes aimed at nothing instead of being focused on Lord Gethin. His arms shifted ever so slightly with each movement instead of gripping the sheets or grasping at Lord Gethin as Ian forgot himself.

He looked very much like a fragile doll, but for the moment he felt unbreakable so Lord Gethin continued to use him as he saw fit, until the first light of dawn crept into the room through the windows and Ian had no more warmth left in him. Only then did Lord Gethin allow him to rest, knowing it would be the final rest for the remainder of his new life…

Honestly the last part was hard to add. I tend to struggle writing smut on its own, but with a corpse??? It doesn't do anything!! There's only so many ways to describe nothing sadklfasd - Oh well. It was fun challenge. Probably never again though.

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Unwholesome OC Week

June 2 - Body Horror / Coercion

Contains: disorientation, dizziness, coughing/throwing up, sensory overload, transformation (implied), teeth, autocannibalism, manipulation, grooming, degradation/belittling, age difference

Ian woke up with a gasp. He wasn’t quite sure where he was or how he got there or even what he was doing before. All he knew was that he felt sore and exhausted. He was lying on a cold and harsh stone floor. The room around him seeming to sway like a ship on restless waters, though that wasn’t quite possible.

He was just dizzy.

Ian sat up and looked around, only he didn’t recognise the room. He didn’t know of any rooms like this in the manor. It was bare, no furniture, no windows, and only a small, narrow door. Ian thought of getting to his feet and trying said door, but just sitting up had taken up all his energy. And now he felt like an invisible force was slowly constricting itself around his chest.

He looked down. He was wearing a soft, black, silk tunic. It was too big on him and he recognised it as Lord Gethin’s. He tried to remember what happened for him to end up there, when the squeeze around his chest tightened and he found himself coughing.

Something caught in his throat. He leaned forward onto his hands, hacking and coughing until he spat out a mouthful of black, tarry phlegm. He’d never seen anything like it before, but he didn’t get much of a chance to ponder on it, or he was coughing and hacking again.

He produced a decent puddle. It smelled as disgusting as it looked, like something unnaturally rotten. Ian gagged and dragged himself away from it, as far away as he could get, pressing himself into a corner while trying to recall how he ended up here.

He remembered standing before the fire with Lord Gethin. He remembered him grabbing his face and kissing him, and then he——

Ian reached for the side of his neck…but he felt nothing. No scabs, no discomfort when pressing on his bruised skin… He lowered his hand and looked at his wrist, but he saw no scabs or bruising there either. Instead his skin was fair, but pale, more grey than beige, and cold. Had he passed out for that long? Had he fallen ill? He had to find answers.

Using the wall for support, he dragged himself to his feet, looking around for the door, only to find the room spinning around him as the dizziness got worse. The cold stone didn’t provide a lot of grip and he found himself crashing back onto the floor.

The room kept spinning. His stomach churned painfully. The sound of his tunic rustling and his skin scraping over the floor rang painfully in his ears. And the rotten smell from the black tarry liquid he’d coughed up earlier was inescapable now.

Ian retched, but he had nothing in his stomach to throw up, so that just hurt as well. All he could really do was let out the most pathetic sob as he curled up and covered his ears with his hands and squeezed his eyes shut.

It felt like it went on forever. Ian writhed in pain, his own cries and panting driving him crazy. Why was everything so loud? Why did the room still spin? And that godawful smell! Nothing he tried alleviated anything, skewing his perception of time.

He had no idea how much of it had passed when for the first time he opened his eyes and the walls were still. He carefully sat up, still sore, but no longer in pain. He could still very clearly hear every little move he made, but it didn’t ring as painfully in his ears anymore.

Finally, he had some energy to think.

What was happening to him? This couldn’t be some kind of illness, or at least nothing he had ever seen before. Lord Gethin might know exactly what was going on, but he wasn’t here and if he were, Ian was sure asking him would just upset him.

He tried to remember when they last spoke, surely he would’ve at least hinted at something. But as he tried to think, he could suddenly feel his mouth filling up with something thick, slimy and rotten. Without a second thought, he leaned forward and spat it out; a glob of black liquid with white chunks in it. Ian frowned, slowly reaching for one of the chunks and pulling it from the liquid, holding it up to see better.

It was a tooth.

Just as he identified it, he could feel more liquid well up in his mouth. And now that he was paying attention, he could feel some of his teeth dislodging from his gums. He retched, spitting out more black liquid and teeth, coughing a bit from the wretched smell and taste.

He whimpered as he stared at the small pile of teeth before him. However, before he could even begin to panic about a life without teeth, he could already feel a pain he hadn’t felt in years. His jaw ached, starting in the front of his mouth before slowly spreading towards the back and then radiating throughout the rest of his head.

Ian sobbed miserably as he laid down again, burying his head in his arms as he curled up on his side once again.

When the pain stopped, he could feel the unfamiliar shape of a new row of teeth. They fit together perfectly, but it was a foreign feeling. He didn’t know what to do with is tongue anymore and…why were some so long? He hesitantly opened his mouth, feeling how some protruded easily past his lips, before brushing his finger past them.

The linger teeth felt much sharper and easily cut into his finger when he tried to find out how sharp they were exactly. He winced and sat up, looking down at his finger and seeing a small, black drop beading on his fingertip, just before the cut disappeared altogether, leaving only the black liquid behind.

Ian blinked, wiping the black away with his thumb, but there really was no cut.

Had he imagined it?

Without really thinking, he held up his arm and sunk his teeth in, leaving a decent bite mark, only to watch it disappear as soon as he lowered his arm. Maybe he hadn’t bitten hard enough. He tried again, this time really tearing at the flesh, but it seemed he didn’t know his own strength, as suddenly he found himself spitting out that bite of flesh.

It tasted as rotten as the rest of the black liquid and as he looked back at his arm he saw the wound oozing more of it. The black liquid…was that his blood? — Never mind that, the oozing soon stopped as the wound slowly but visibly began to knit itself together, until the only trace left was the black blood still staining his arm and face.

Ian couldn’t take it anymore. He needed answers, or at the least fresh air. He scrambled for the door, yanking desperately on the latch, but it did not open. He banged his fists against the wood until the sound became too overwhelming and he sank back down into a sobbing heap on the floor, wondering desperately how or why this was happening to him…

It all began the morning before. Ian had had a long night…with Lord Gethin. The nobleman in question allowing him a couple of precious hours of sleep before breakfast, eyeing the boy’s pale, nude form on his red, velvet throw blanket. He always loved to watch him sleep. He looked so calm, so serene. Almost dead, yet he could still feel the warmth coming off him.

Lord Gethin held his hand just an inch from Ian’s skin, touching only the near invisible hairs on his arm as he traced up towards his shoulder until the boy began to stir, to which he placed his cold hand down, stroking his skin a bit with his thumb.

“Ian…”

His eyes snapped open. He awoke almost instantly at the sound of his voice. He brushed a lock of dark hair out of his own eyes as he peered up at Lord Gethin.

“Yes, my lord?”

“How much time has passed since I revealed my secret to you?” Lord Gethin asked, “How long have you been choosing my daily meals and kept me company afterwards?”

Ian sat up, trying to spur himself awake enough to answer properly, but his mind felt clouded, so he couldn’t quite think of an answer.

“I…I am unsure, my lord.” he said, rubbing his eyes a bit, “A year? Or has it been two?”

“Hmm…” Lord Gethin just hummed, his red eyes slowly observing him up and down, “Either way you’ve aged since. And you’ll age more…”

“M-my lord?”

“Good grief Ian, you really are making me doubt your intelligence.” Lord Gethin sighed, rolling his eyes.

“I’m begging your pardon, my lord.” Ian said, inclining his head, “Please, enlighten me.”

Lord Gethin grabbed his jaw, making him look up.

“You are human.” he said, “You will age and you will die. I, however, will not.”

He let go of him with a sigh and got out of bed.

“You will lose all your charm when you age.”

He walked up to the fire to warm himself a bit. Ian quickly followed, using the velvet blanket to cover himself as he picked up Lord Gethin’s robe and helped him slip it on.

“You’re so good to me, Ian.” Lord Gethin continued, “I don’t want you to age…I want you to stay this beautiful and loyal forever.”

“You’re too kind, my lord.” Ian said naively, “But ageing and death are part of life…it is natural, my lord.”

“And what if you weren’t natural?” Lord Gethin asked.

“M-my lord?”

“Stop! Acting so stupid!” Lord Gethin shouted.

Ian jumped. He didn’t usually raise his voice like that, but when he did it was usually followed by—— Ian winced as he suddenly grabbed his jaw, squeezing painfully tightly.

“What has it been? Seventeen years of teaching and yet you seem to have learned nothing.” he hissed, “I taught you how to read, write, and speak three languages and yet it seems you have no clue what I am saying. Do you need me to spell everything out for you?”

“I-I’m begging your pardon—”

“Silence!”

Lord Gethin shoved him away and Ian only just about managed to avoid falling into the hearth. He quickly sat up again, lest he be accused of getting lazy as well.

“Tonight I’ll have just you, none of the others.” Lord Gethin said, glaring down at him, “And surely you know what a great gift you are about to receive?”

“You have my gratitude, my lord.” Ian said, bowing his head.

He still wasn’t quite sure what he was grateful for, but it seemed important to Lord Gethin, so he had to be respectful.

“Much better.” Lord Gethin praised, “Now get out of here. Be at your best tonight.”

“Yes, my lord.” Ian said, before scrambling to find all his clothes and hurrying off.

Ian going through it...this is my personal favourite. The black shit he's coughing up is the blood that's been rotting in his lungs from getting stabbed.

@unwholesomeocweek

Taglist: @sug4rgal | feel free to ask to be added!

Masterlist | Main account

[whumpsmith-participates]

Unwholesome OC Week

June 1 - Violence / Hatefucking

Contains: vampires, master/slave, gore, forced to obey, age difference, mind control, blood drinking, murder, burning, noncon/rape

It happened so fast. One moment Ian had been accompanying the local heroes to help track down the individual behind a recent string of strange murders — And the next he was holding one of their hearts in his hand and someone’s throat in his mouth. The dark alley reeked of blood and the silence was only broken by pained groans.

And then his voice.

“Come.” he just said, “We have some…catching up to do.”

Ian dropped the remains of his friends. He felt sick to his stomach, but he had no other choice but to follow. He couldn’t even look back and instead kept his eyes aimed at the ground as he followed a couple of steps behind his sire.

Lord Colin Gethin stood about a head taller than Ian. He was old and it showed, but he was a lot more ancient than one might first think. And you wouldn’t know it unless he allowed you to. Ian knew all too well. He’d known Lord Gethin his entire life. He’d been the spiritual leader of the village he was born in. He was Ian’s teacher and mentor his entire childhood. And once he and nearly forty other boys were old enough, he became their lord. And they his servants.

He took them across the ocean away from everyone and everything they knew. All they had were each other and Lord Gethin. And they were happy for it. They were raised to be and they had no other choice.

Now, five centuries later, Ian knew better. He managed to get away from Lord Gethin a hundred years ago, learned more about the world, made friends, and nearly forgot about his master…until a couple of days ago, when the killings started. And now he’d found him and Ian fell right back under his command.

His hands, clothes, and face were covered in blood, but he hadn’t been told to clean up, so he didn’t. Lord Gethin didn’t speak to him, nor did he even look at him until they were well alone and far away from the bloodied alley.

Lord Gethin suddenly stopped and turned to face Ian, looking down at him, his already wrinkled face further creased in a mixture of fury and disgust as he looked his servant over.

“I need a place to rest safely and comfortably.” he said, “After that we’ll discuss your punishment.”

“Yes, Master.” Ian replied quietly, hesitating a moment before pulling out his phone and finding a hotel.

When they arrived at the hotel, no one from the staff seemed to question the blood on Ian. He got some looks, but as soon as Lord Gethin spoke, they only had eyes for him and after the interaction, they were left staring vacantly into the distance.

The strange trance didn’t just stop at the people Lord Gethin interacted with. It spread throughout the building like a suffocating miasma that wrapped around one’s brain, clouding one’s thoughts, and filtering one’s memories.

Ian could only hope their abuse would end at the trance. A merciful captivity that they wouldn’t even remember once Lord Gethin let them go… If Lord Gethin let them go. And Ian’s hope was quickly crushed after the porter showed them around the suite. Lord Gethin thanked him, shook his hand, and then pulled him closer and bit his throat.

Ian averted his eyes, his stomach churning at the sound of the man’s gasping and gargling. His heart rate suddenly speeding up, before slowing down as he went quiet, before finally leaving only a pressing silence, broken cruelly by the thud of his lifeless body on the hardwood floor.

“Much better.” Lord Gethin said, pulling a handkerchief from his sleeve and dabbing at the corners of his mouth, “Clean that up, Ian. Then I want you to come straight back here.”

“Yes, Master.”

Ian had already started moving before he even spoke, grabbing the lifeless man under his arms and beginning to drag him out of the room with relative ease. Once outside the room, he carefully lifted him up and tried to carry him as respectfully as possible as he tried to think of a place to leave him that could preserve his body and halt the scent of rot that his master hated so much.

He found the hotel’s restaurant, the staff cleaning up after the last diners didn’t even look at him, focusing instead on cleaning the table that they had been wiping off for the past half hour. Ian paid them no mind either, heading into the kitchen to find the walk-in cooler, where he gently laid the dead porter on the ground.

He wanted to pray for him, but Lord Gethin had said he was to return right away once he’d “cleaned him up.” So he had no choice but to immediately leave the cooler and head back to the suite.

The suite he’d booked was large and luxurious. The building was old and the furnishing reflected that. The walls were covered in shiny, wooden panels, the ceilings high to make room for crystal chandeliers. The furniture looked antique; heavy-looking sofas and armchairs gathered around a marble fireplace and behind that a large four-poster bed with heavy curtains.

Lord Gethin was stood by the bed, admiring the wood carvings of the bed approvingly, before his face twisted back into a look of anger as Ian returned. Ian quickly looked back down at the floor, waiting by the door for his next order.

“Light a fire. I’m cold.” Lord Gethin said.

“Yes, Master.”

Ian gladly focussed on the fire place, inspecting it for a moment to see if it was operational, before finding a laminated sheet of paper with instructions to light it. It was a gas fireplace and it only took the press of a button to light it. The flames flickered to life in seconds and a pleasant warmth wafted into the room almost immediately.

“How’d you do that?” Lord Gethin questioned, approaching Ian to warm himself by the fire.

“The flames are fed by gas rather than wood. An electric ignition allows me to light the flames instantly.” Ian explained, “There are many ways to warm rooms today. This is one of them, Master.”

“I suppose some humans are good for something…” Gethin commented, “Unlike you.”

Had it still been beating, Ian’s heart would’ve skipped one at the sudden change in tone in Lord Gethin’s voice. He noticed himself tensing up, but other than that he stayed quiet, stood still, eyes on the floor.

“You reek. Go get cleaned up.” Lord Gethin just ordered.

“Yes, Master.” Ian said, bowing his head as he backed away before turning to locate the bathroom and heading inside.

There, too, he was met with glossy wood and marble stonework. A large, empty tub that could easily fill three people on one side and a rain shower separated from the bath with a glass pane and a wooden border on one side. And a large counter with two sinks hiding a toilet just out of view from the door on the other side.

Ian stepped over to one of the sinks and looked at himself in the mirror, its edges glowing softly from the light built into the glass and even the time, date and weather forecast displayed in one of the corners. Ian shook his head and began to wash his hands and face. His shirt he decided to toss out the small window above the toilet. A clue for anyone out to find them and a way to keep the smell of rot out of the suite. Which he returned to, clean and shirtless.

Lord Gethin was still by the fire, warming his hands before looking up and turning around as Ian closed the bathroom door behind him.

“Come.” he said.

And Ian approached.

“Kneel.”

Ian dropped to his knees, anxiously eyeing the hem of Lord Gethin’s robes.

“Look at me.”

Ian looked up. The fire behind Lord Gethin cast an eerie shadow on his face that Ian was all too familiar with. His master was unhappy. And rightfully so.

“You abandoned me, Ian.” Lord Gethin said, “I give you eternity…and you abandon me.

“M-Master I—”

“Silence!” Lord Gethin hissed, his voice distorting in his rage, a sound that betrayed he was far from human.

Ian flinched and in the second he had his eyes closed, Lord Gethin had stepped behind him, his hand grabbing a fistful of his hair and pushing him into the fireplace. Ian found his face inches away from the flames. Far enough to keep his hair from catching fire, but close enough to feel the heat beginning to burn his skin. He hissed in pain, desperately clawing at the walls of the hearth to try and push back.

“Stop that.” Lord Gethin said. And Ian’s arms abruptly froze. He had no defence against the heat, other than praying for his master to show him mercy.

And he did….or did he?

“Did you really think you could just leave me to slumber for eternity?” Lord Gethin asked, “Did you truly believe I wouldn’t find you the minute my slumber would be disturbed?”

“F-forgive me, Master!” Ian pleaded, to which he was yanked away from the fire and thrown against one of the antique sofas. He gasped in relieve, trembling a bit as his face began to heal and because he knew it wouldn’t be over so soon. So easily.

Sure enough, Lord Gethin stepped towards him, his hand locking around his arm with a bruising grip. Ian was yanked to his feet and quickly stumbled along as Lord Gethin dragged him towards the bed. The frame creaked dangerously as he threw Ian onto the mattress harshly, as if it was close to breaking, but neither vampire seemed to care. Their focus being more on one another.

Lord Gethin began to disrobe and, as if no time at all had passed, Ian knew he was expected to do the same. So he kicked off his shoes and rushed to take off his pants. But his trained obedience was far from rewarded when Lord Gethin grabbed his arm and twisted it painfully onto his back as he forced him to roll onto his stomach.

Ian briefly considered to protest, but his face was already pressed into the mattress and Lord Gethin’s nails bore painfully into his thighs until he spread his legs. There was no other warning. Lord Gethin ploughed into him unforgivingly. Slowly at first, finding his own comfort, before picking up the pace. Finding a rhythm that suited him enough to ignore Ian’s pained sobs.

It had never been like this before. His master had always been cruel, but in bed he was usually kind. A ruthless method cloaked in tenderness. Ian thought back to the many kinder moments he once knew, anything to distract him from the apparent punishment. His own tears stung his sensitive skin as he couldn’t help but to think of one particular moment…the one that landed him in this situation in the first place.

This is going to be a serialised one in which we explore Ian's past a bit. It's kind of an improvement of and addition to of something I wrote a while ago, but with less fade to black.

Ian is a character from my series Heroes. He first appears in book 2. Books 1 & 2 are available to read on my other sideblog @heroescore

@unwholesomeocweek

Taglist: @sug4rgal | feel free to ask to be added!

Masterlist | Main account

[whumpsmith-participates]

Unwholesome OC Week

As one may or may not have noticed this one gets a bit dark and potentially triggering. Besides the prompts, I'll make sure to list any other potentially triggering content before each work and will include these in the tags as well. However, I'm only human and a little dum-dum sometimes so if I left anything out, feel free to let me know.

Prompts and rules

June 1 - Hatefucking / Violence / Divorce

June 2 - Proxy Sex / Body Horror / Coercion

June 3 - Necrophilia / Corruption / Power Imbalance

June 4 - Nonconsensual Voyeurism / Mindbreak / Incest

June 5 - Dubcon / Unethical Experimentation / Possessive Behaviour

June 6 - Wound Fucking / Mind Control / Blackmail

June 7 - Bad Sex / Cannibalism / Codependency

Taglist: currently empty but hit me up if you want to be tagged on one, some or all of the days.

[whumpsmith-participates]

Soon....

Remember to block #unwholesomeocweek if you don't wanna see these works!

[whumpsmith-participates]

Unwholesome OC Week

As one may or may not have noticed this one gets a bit dark and potentially triggering. Besides the prompts, I'll make sure to list any other potentially triggering content before each work and will include these in the tags as well. However, I'm only human and a little dum-dum sometimes so if I left anything out, feel free to let me know.

Prompts and rules

June 1 - Hatefucking / Violence / Divorce

June 2 - Proxy Sex / Body Horror / Coercion

June 3 - Necrophilia / Corruption / Power Imbalance

June 4 - Nonconsensual Voyeurism / Mindbreak / Incest

June 5 - Dubcon / Unethical Experimentation / Possessive Behaviour

June 6 - Wound Fucking / Mind Control / Blackmail

June 7 - Bad Sex / Cannibalism / Codependency

Taglist: currently empty but hit me up if you want to be tagged on one, some or all of the days.