#Whump writing

[the-bar-sinister]

First whumper uses physical violence to train whumpee. Pain is the great teacher.

When whumpee has been trained to respond to pain, then the actual violence isn't needed. Then all whumper needs is the threat of violence, and whumpee responds.

When whumpee has been trained to respond to the threat of violence, then whumper doesn't need to threaten anymore.

After that, whumper trains whumpee to the implication of violence.

The subtle cues. No one but whumpee would even know that whumper was making a threat.

Even a gentle smile can be an implicit threat.

And whumpee responds.

Whumpee has been taught.

Later-- much later-- caretaker has to work to understand why some of their innocent actions and gestures make recovering whumpee flinch, and jump.

[a-living-canvas]

Into Your Bloodstream

"I-it's hurt…"

Whumpee said, eyes blazing with tears. Whumper crouched down in front of him, with a pen and paper in his hands.

"Mhm…mhm…anything else you want to add, dove?"

Whumpee sniffled, his lips trembling.

"I-it's burning and…I-I feel like being pricked by thousands of needles…"

Whumper pondered for a moment. He continued writing, a slight smile on his face. "And which part hurt the most, Love? Which part is it?"

"W-when you pressed the branding stick…o-on my back…and..and twisted it against my skin…"

Whumper smirked, "Mhm…I did twist it a little. I thought you might like it if I did that."

Whumper walked around Whumpee, looking down at the symbol of his ownership. His eyes were glinting with excitement as he traced the fresh burning scar. Whumpee winced in pain at the contact, panting slightly.

"It's beautiful isn't it, Love? You look much more prettier like this…when you are mine."

Whumper leaned down and pressed his cheek on the mark, sighing softly while Whumpee screamed in agony. Whumper kept the innocent smile on his face, drawing circular motions on Whumpee's skin with his finger.

"Stop! Stop! Stop! Please st—"

Another scream, even more louder this time. The chain around Whumpee's wrists rattled against each other as Whumper licked  Whumpee's branded skin. Trailing his tongue and saliva across the initial. 

The sounds of Whumpee's whimpers and the shiver that ran down his spine made Whumper gloated at the sight. He leaned behind Whumpee's ear, resting his chin on his shoulder as he's whispering, 

"You are mine now, Whumpee. All mine."

[kjwriting]

Caretaker finds whumpee locked in their cell.

Whumpee calls out to them weakly from the dirty floor.

Caretaker pries open the door and drops to their knees, eyes darting all over whumper’s body in concern.

Whumpee says they need to get out of there quickly.

Suddenly caretaker’s face changes.

An amused, sadistic grin creeps onto their face.

They were working with Whumper all along.

And they’re only just getting started…

[abhainnwhump]

Pet Whumpee screaming, kicking, and crying as Caretaker and their friends drag them away from Whumper's dead body. Whumpee wants to stay with them and leaving feels like betrayal.

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 49: Alexander's Task

Prev > Masterlist

tw: mind control, hypnotic induction, branding, possessiveness, drunkenness

September 1925

The walk home from the ballet had been somber, to say the least. Oliver had started off the night so excited, and he knew Alexander had, too, anticipating a lovely night out. But now Oliver was terrified, and his master was simmering in fury in a way that Oliver hadn't seen from him before.

"Not at you, Oliver," he said when pressed. "I'm not angry with you. You followed my instructions; you couldn't have done any better. No, it's my sire I'm furious at."

Oliver nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat. "Is he actually going to drink from me, sir?"

Unsurprisingly, this made Alexander's fury deepen. He took a long time before answering. "My hands are tied. Certain arrangements have to be made."

"What does that mean, sir?"

"...Leave me. I'm in no state to -- we'll discuss it next evening."

And Oliver had no choice but to comply with his master's wishes, as the waves that usually drew him closer to Alexander were now pushing him away. 

Alexander stormed off to his quarters the moment they arrived at home, and Oliver didn't dare follow. Instead, he did his best to comfort himself with a mug of warm milk and a supper of buttered bread. Afterwards, he retired to his own chambers early, curled up in his soft warm bed but unable to rest, flipping listlessly through books, unable to focus on any words and looking only at the illustration plates.

It was as if he could still feel the ancient vampire's unnatural grip on his body. He didn't want that vampire to visit, and despite all of his conditioning, he certainly didn't want him drinking his blood.

His blood was his master's alone -- and that thought certainly was the conditioning, stronger in his mind than any of his own convictions.

It was well past morning when he finally sank into a restless sleep, tossing and turning and waking up halfway from nightmares. By the time he fully awoke, it was already evening again, his room dark and foreboding, reminding him of his fears. Alexander's sire was arriving tomorrow evening. 

He had to talk to his master. He had to know what to do, how to behave, to avoid being harmed. But when Oliver emerged from his room, flickering gas lamp in hand, his master was nowhere to be found. Oliver checked every corner of the library, the music room, the parlor, a dozen disorienting spare rooms filled with more books and storage crates and bits of random furniture. Either Alexander had left the manor or he was still confined to his room. 

Even Oliver's need wasn't enough to overcome his fear of knocking on the door. One of the few rules of the manor was that Alexander's room was off-limits without permission, and the last thing he wanted was for his master to be angry at him when he so desperately needed his protection. All he could really do was wait, and worry, and take a long hot bath in the hopes that it would ease his worries, and inevitably end up worrying in the hot bath.

If only he didn't have to worry about any of this! If only he could simply be Alexander's thrall, spending his days in the library and providing his master with blood. He was meant to be loyal to Alexander, the perfect thrall, wasn't he? When he closed his eyes and imagined, he could almost hear the song calling to him.

His master needed his help, and Oliver wanted so badly to be helpful.

He toweled off from the shower, making sure to apply lotion to his face and neck, just as they'd done in the auction house. Back in his bedroom, he rifled through the wardrobe to look for something suitable, finally settling on a tasteful red frock. After all, if he couldn't solve his master's problems, he could at least try to cheer him up.

Suitably dressed, he had emerged from his bedroom and was gathering up the courage to go knock on Alexander's bedroom door when he heard a commotion in the foyer and rushed to see.

"Ugh, just drag me to the library and leave me to die," said Alexander, precariously wrapped around Miss Lily, who was dragging him into the manor with a long-suffering look on her face.

"I'll take you to the library, but I'm not going to leave you until you've done what you need to do," she said.

"Screw that. Screw all of it. Screw my goddamn sire and his goddamn rules. Sick and tired of him touching my thralls." It was obvious now that his master was drunk, as he grasped onto Miss Lily for dear life. "He was touching Oliver, my Oliver. He's gonna drink from my Oliver. Put his goddamn fangs in my thrall!"

Oliver's heart clenched at the way his master was talking about him. It was strange, to be wanted, to be possessed, but not at all unwelcome. It gave a strange sort of pleasure to Oliver that his master didn't want anyone else to drink from him.

"Welcome home, sir," said Oliver, emerging into the foyer, doing his best to look like a proper thrall. "Is there... um. Is there anything I can help with...?"

"Oh, now, isn't that just precious," Miss Lily cooed, while Alexander looked as though he were about to pass out.

"Look at him, Lily," he said with a tone of pleading. "He's so loyal, so goddamned perfect. I don't want to hurt him. How can I..."

Oliver's eyes widened. "How can you what, sir?"

"Don't you worry about it, dear," Miss Lily cooed at him, and Oliver could feel his mind soften. "Don't you worry about a thing. Why don't you go make yourself comfortable in the library? Your master will be joining you shortly after I give him a little pep talk."

"Yes, sir," he said. The calm he had managed to carve out for himself had evaporated. What was his master going to do? Was he simply referring to allowing his sire to feed on Oliver? He fussed with his dress -- a garment he still wasn't at all used to -- as he settled onto a couch and waited.

Perhaps ten minutes passed before Miss Lily arrived, carrying an old white tin. She was followed by Alexander, who looked forlorn as he sat down next to Oliver on the couch. Oliver could smell the alcohol on him, and his master wobbled slightly as he regarded Oliver.

"Can't you do it?" he said to Miss Lily in a tone that was nearly a whine.

"You know you have to be the one to do it."

"He won't know."

"He will and you know it."

"I helped you with Miriam."

"And I'll help you with Oliver, but you still need to be the one to do it."

"Do what, sirs?" said Oliver with growing fear. "What are you going to do?"

"You trust your master, don't you?" Miss Lily had settled in on the other side of him, and brushed back his hair to speak in his ear. "You want to be a good and obedient thrall for him, don't you, dear?"

"I trust my master," said Oliver automatically, Miss Lily's voice and her choice of words sinking him into a helpless daze. "I want to be obedient..."

His master leaned over and began to hum in his other ear, a song which washed over his mind and soothed away his fears. "You're my loyal and obedient thrall, aren't you? And you trust me." 

"Yes, Master. Completely loyal and obedient."

"You love being obedient," Miss Lily coaxed. "Obedience is pleasure. You wish to serve."

With Miss Lily's voice and Alexander's song hypnotizing him so thoroughly, he almost felt like he was back in the soft leather chair in the auction house, his sleeping mind open and pliable and oh so very obedient. "I wish to serve," he said. "I -- I just want to help you, Master. I want to be your loyal and obedient thrall."

Alexander's hum was pleased, making Oliver feel so relaxed and so good. "And so you are, Oliver. You're just perfect. I couldn't be more delighted with you."

"Thank you, Master," said Oliver, floating in the bliss of praise.

"You're just so... you're too perfect. That's why I can't bear the thought of my sire drinking from you." His master was leaning his head on Oliver's shoulder.

"I understand, sir. My blood should only be for you."

"Only for me, yes, that's right," said Alexander fiercely. "Only for me."

"But you must obey Alexander's sire as well," said Miss Lily in his other ear. A tone of warning, but Oliver wasn't sure it was for him.

"...Yes," said Alexander after a long hesitation. "You must obey him, and allow him to drink your blood, even if... Just for now, Oliver, just for now. You can do that for me, can't you? You can obey him, because you are loyal to me."

"Yes, sir, I can obey."

"Obedience is pleasure," whispered Miss Lily. "You only desire to serve."

"I only desire to serve, sir."

"Lex, you need to --"

"I know," said Alexander, and his song changed subtly. Instead of inducing obedience, Oliver felt his mind being shifted, further entranced, his thoughts becoming foggy and far away. It was like falling asleep with his eyes wide open. "You're safe, Oliver. You're safe with me."

"Safe... Master..." he slurred, his head growing heavy and coming to rest on his master's shoulder. 

Alexander was rubbing his back gently. "I need to do something now. It's important, and unavoidable. You are going to lose awareness as it happens, and when you wake, you will feel no pain."

"What..." He wanted to ask, but his mind was slipping under the waves of his master's song, the song that was now urging him into sleep.

"Shut your eyes, Oliver," said Miss Lily. "Become unaware of everything around you except for our voices. You won't feel a thing."

"Nothing but our voices and a deep, dreamless sleep," said Alexander. "Rest, now, Oliver. You're so obedient, so loyal, so good. You can rest. You can be still, so very still, as you sink into a place where you will feel no pain."

Oliver's vision blurred as his eyes began to close, leaning back against the couch as his master ran his hand through his hair. He was surrounded by song - obey, relax, go to sleep, feel no pain - and everything else was fading away until he was floating, floating in the deepest abyss of the ocean, where there was nothing but darkness and the rush of cool water and his Master's beautiful siren song.

He could obey. He could give himself over to his Master, body, mind, and soul. It was the easiest thing in the world.

Oliver wasn't sure how long he floated there in contented bliss. Time had lost all meaning, all of his senses dulled and drowsy. Finally, as if a hand was reaching down from the surface of the water, his Master spoke once more. "You can wake now, Oliver. You'll feel no pain and no distress as you wake."

His eyes opened, and he was back in the library, still feeling strangely disconnected from his body. His Master looked grim, but surely it wasn't because of him. He was a good thrall, and he had obeyed. 

His shoulders felt cool, and it took him a moment to realize that his dress was gone, neatly folded up and sitting on a nearby table. His chest was bared, and there was a bandage just below his collarbone. His head fogged again, and he felt numb, almost as if he weren't allowed to perceive all of this.

"Don't worry about that, Oliver," said Alexander, grasping his chin and drawing his gaze up. "You were just perfect."

"Thank you, sir." 

Alexander collapsed onto the couch beside him, as though he'd been through some great ordeal. "There, Lily, it's done. Now can you leave me to die a second time?"

Oliver couldn't help but reach out to him. "Sir, if there's anything I can do... any way I can serve you..."

"You've done everything you were supposed to do," said Miss Lily. "And no one's leaving you to die, Lex. You need to sleep it off. Oliver, you can put him to bed, can't you, dear?"

"Put him to bed, sir?"

"Yes, as you do each night, no doubt."

Oliver looked at Miss Lily, alarmed. "I'm -- I'm not allowed in the bedroom without permission, sir --"

Miss Lily raised an eyebrow. "Really, Lex?"

"I don't need a thrall warming my bed. Hot water bottles and steam heat suffice," said Alexander with a groan. "And I didn't want to get attached."

"...And how is that working out for you?"

Alexander groaned again. "My head is killing me, Lil, spare me the lecture."

"You're hopeless, you know that?" said Miss Lily. "Come on, Oliver. I'll hoist him up and you accompany me. Your master needs your help."

"Of course, sir, right away."

Miss Lily picked up Alexander as though it were nothing, carrying him up the stairs and into the bedroom with Oliver following at her heels. She expertly navigated the cluttered floor in the dark, freezing cold room even as Oliver tripped over discarded laundry. She pulled his shoes off and tossed them aside, pushing Alexander onto the bed and draping the messy covers over him, as he curled up like a sleeping child.

"Go on now, Oliver."

"Me, sir? What should I do?"

"Vampires are cold all the time, in case you haven't noticed. He needs to sleep, and your warmth will help him rest."

Oliver's throat tightened with the thought of crawling into his master's bed, and he couldn't tell if it was fear or anticipation. He looked to Alexander for confirmation of what Miss Lily had said. "Sir... you want me to..."

"God damn it, Lily," he swore. "Just for tonight, yes." A low hum emanated from the mound at the center of the bed, one which drew Oliver near. He felt himself stepping forward, climbing onto the bed, and in a flash, he was sucked under the covers and surrounded by the strong arms of a cold vampire. "You're so warm. It's been ages since I've had a thrall in my bed." He yawned into Oliver's ear as his arms tightened.

"I knew that'd help," said Lily smugly. "Well, I'll be taking my leave. Good luck with our sire." She walked out, shutting the door.

Oliver, meanwhile, stared out into the gloom, his heart thumping. The bed was soft and smelled of floral soap and winter winds, and his master was gripping him so tightly it was almost uncomfortable. "Will this help you sleep, sir?"

"Hmph?"

"Um, will this help you sleep, sir?"

His deep voice was groggy, sounding half-asleep already. "'m never warm. Hard to stay awake when it's so warm." He sighed. "You're a good thrall. I hope you know that."

"Thank you, sir," he said, feeling warm himself from the praise.

"Almost the best thrall."

"...Almost, sir?"

"You should go to sleep, too."

"I can try, sir."

His master's voice hummed a sweet lullaby into his ear, and Oliver was immediately hypnotized once more. The fact that his master sounded so drowsy as he sang only made Oliver succumb to its spell faster. He was so tired, so sleepy, and his master was pleased with him too, inviting him to rest...

He was helping his master, finally. It was so nice to be here.

"You're mine, Oliver," said the voice in his ear. "My thrall, my perfect thrall."

"Yours, sir," Oliver agreed as he drifted off.

Prev > Masterlist

Next time, Alexander takes matters into his own hands.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin

@whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist

@xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini

@sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada

@typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia

@a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@enigmawriteswhump @foresttheblep @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot

@cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme

@strawbearydreams @ghost-whump

[generic-whumperz]

If they didn’t want to get napped, maybe they shouldn’t look so whumpable 🤷

[whumpsoda]

for a captivity idea, maybe write about the day Nevan broke like how Malak did? maybe when Darius realizes that Nevan is much more keen to be motivated by praise rather than punishment—as Nevan can ground himself and battle through the pain or discomfort, but the moment concept of praise as a reward is reinforced he crumbles

WOHEO Masterlist

cw: brainwashing/conditioning, memory loss

———————————————————————

Heaving ragged, quivering breaths of distress and raw desperation, Nevan’s head beat and pounded hard on the walls of his mind, thus drowning him in thick pain. His lip trembled with timid haste as his teeth ran across the frayed tips of skin, hands shielding his susceptible ears.

“C’mon… be a good boy for master, won’t you?” Darius sneered, the faux sweetness of his voice eliciting horrified trembles down his captive’s spine.

Nevan wanted to be a good boy, really wanted to be a good boy, and such feelings no short of terrified him. He was slipping, so very wretchedly easily, and he was well aware of it. 

One chill, slender hand snuck it’s way over his in the attempt to pry Nevan’s palm from his ear. “So tense, are you? Nothing to be afraid of, really. It’s only Master.” 

Nevan’s brain could not help but scatter, just for a moment upon his master’s magical words. How could he possibly resist? His eyes were quick to glaze over, lids draping and vision twisting blurry. Nevan turned to his master, limbs drooping. Just as he had wanted.

“Good boy, so good.” Darius cooed, sounds Nevan knew so well we’re fakely kind and dripping with humiliation, but in the moment he simply leaned into the scratch of slick nails below his chin. His mind swirled in a flurry of pleasure, keening toward his master, as if the vampire was tenderly reeling him in with his song-like voice.

“You want to be good, right? Even better?” Oh, how he wanted to be good. “You must listen and forget, Nevan.”

Forget.

Forget? 

“F- for… get?” Nevan whispered, meek and small on his knees. His master merely nodded.

“Yes, pet. Let Master work his magic as he drys your little brain of all the pesky memories that are no longer useful.” No. No. “Then, Master might just name you as the most pathetic pet of them all. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Nevan recoiled, coming back to himself an inch, baring his teeth in defense. He did not want to forget, especially at the mercy of Darius. Could not. Who would? Not Genevieve, not Amara, not his parents, not his friends-

“Hey.” Darius returned, puckered lips beating simmering breath right over his skin. “Calm down. Listen to your master.”

Nevan mewled the slightest of a moan in response, shoulders buckling as an immense shiver of bliss overtook him in an instant. His expression swiftly dropped slack, in contrast to the poorly upheld smile of Darius’ that gradually twisted into that of a grimace.

Listen, listen, listen.

“Hush your head for me now. You can do that, can’t you? Your thoughts are running dry, gumming up and fogging until all you can muster up is your master.” Nevan’s brain complied in full, dissipating until all he could manage to focus on was his master’s wondrously heaven full voice. He sighed in befuddled contentment. “Just relax, letting my calm wash over you and drown you in its hold.”

Maybe, even while pathetically whimpering with pleasure, Nevan could still…

Still resist…

Alas, he was already nodding along and smiling, fight fizzled out at the flick of his master’s tongue. Defiance seemed so unreachable, such a distant idea he could not reach through the cotton plugging up his brain.

His master grinned, the faintest taint of a smirk infecting the tenderness of his spell, dripping just the slightest of sour. Even so, Nevan was quick to melt in his seat with eagerness to obey his every word.

“Your feeble mind is being so easily thwarted, terrible memories stolen away and taken where they will not return. The horrible memories that hurt and only exist to bring you pain. Master is taking them away, isn’t that just nice?”

Nevan nodded along with an empty head, no idea of what he could be agreeing to, almost as if dancing to the hum of Darius’ voice. “Mmm… um, thank, thank… you…” 

Fingers snuck their way over the human’s chin, clutching his flesh and strengthening his nod. “You don’t know anything, Nevan, not anymore, do you?” Darius sneered, smugly.

That wasn’t right. Was it? Nevan knew lots of things. “N- no, I… do…” 

“You don’t know your friends, your family, no one.” Darius stated, so matter of fact Nevan could not help but digest his nonsense. Yet, he still knew it was nonsense. 

“But… um, but…” His master’s speech failed to make any logical sense. Nevan had so many people who loved him, and he knew them very well. His mind was scattered into puzzled pieces, confusion coating every half baked thought that ever so slowly crossed his path.

“Because you don’t have any of that, Nevan. No friends, no family, no one but Master. You don’t need anyone else.” The last bit was whispered like butter licking Nevan’s ear, lips so close his master was nearly kissing his skin.

“O- oh. Oh… Master…” His chest tensed with stinging anxiousness. His brain in it’s entirety was settling into Darius’ magnificent grasp, growing horrifyingly, but at the same time blissfully, fuzzy. 

No friends…

No… family…

No… um, no…

Nevan swallowed. He… didn’t have any of that. Did he? It was dreadfully hard to search for any memories of such things, which sparked a light of faint fear to stir and contort with bitterness in his belly.

Even so, Darius’ voice was like a ringing in his ear, reverberating and echoing like that of a holy god. “You can’t remember anyone but Master. Everyone else, all of the painful, irrelevant people dissipate from your head, leaving emptiness in their wake.” 

Empty. Empty, empty, so very empty his mind was, connections growing thin and snapping off into the abyss of the vampire’s talk. There was someone there, right? There had to be. “Don’t… know… can, can’t… ‘member…”

Expression twisting with wickedness, his master firmed his clasp over Nevan’s chin. “Who can’t you remember, Nevan? Who don’t you know?”

So desperately he wracked his brain, as much as he could in such a pitiful state, blockades standing tall and firm. “Don’t, don’t, um… dunno…” Nevan’s brows furrowed, eyes pricking with timid tears. “Can’t… don’t… um…”

“Hush. Good boy. No one is left in that tiny head of yours, is there? Nobody left expect for Master.”

“Master…?” Nevan was so confused about everything said in that moment, but he still knew his master well. That was all he needed, was it not?

The vampire hummed in approval. “That is because, my pet, there has only ever been your master. Your pathetic, little life has only been filled with you and your master, from beginning to end, with not another being to interrupt. Isn’t that right?”

“Y- yes… Always… Master…” The fact circled its way around his head, plastering to the walls and fitting into its spot between his gears. It made perfect sense to Nevan, not a single other person coming to mind beside his master.

“Always and only, Nevan.”

“Only… Master…” He’d always been with his master, hadn’t he? Just the two of them… right? Except, somehow, that was wrong. His stomach churned and bubbled, red hot feelings subdued by his previous conditioning snaking free. “But, um, no… no, no, no-!”

“Let go, Nevan, to the grip and truth of my word. Let go of your mind, let go of your pain, and give it away to Master.” Darius pressed him to the wall by the head, smooshing him as far as possible into the concrete.

“N- no! No, no!” Master was wrong, master was very, very wrong and he could not for the life of him place why. Something had to be wrong, even under the weight of such heavenly sensations, because Nevan could simply feel it deep inside of his shivering bones.

“Yes.”

“No! No, no, no! No!”

Nevan no longer knew why he was holding on, why he was so terrified to obey his master. He was utterly unable to unstick his hands from his ears, or to uncurl his shaking frame. Something was missing, maybe many things, but he could not possibly say what. There was only an overwhelming sense of something he could not place, only recognizing the feeling that, even against his master, Nevan must disobey.

“Let. Go.” His master snarled, vibrant with authority and commandment. Rich with force and strength, impossible to fight with.

After holding so dearly on for the last bit of life, the last bit of fight, the last remaining tie to string together Nevan to himself broke.

A swift snap, it went.

He let go of a ragged wail, scratching from his throat and caving in to his master’s will. He released his own inhibitions, his complete accord, releasing the hurt of his own wants. His figure slumped to the wall, drowsy drool dripping from his parted lips, overcome with mind melted exhaustion.

After a time of silence and a pounding brain, slow, careful fingers dipped over Nevan’s dropped, gasping head, calling his remaining conscious back to his master. The touch was pleasantly soft, picking him up from near unconsciousness with pleasure.

Hooking another finger under his human’s chin, Darius met his unfocused gaze with satisfaction. “Pet, tell me, might you have any friends? Any family?” His voice was hushed and tender, gracing Nevan with muddled honey.

It took him a beat of quiet to process the inquiry. “Uh, um….” What an odd question. Did he? That sounded off. Nevan scoured his mushed up mind, unable in the end to make such a strange connection. Faintly, he shook his head. “N- no… no…” Why did the admittance claw at the gentle strings of his heart?

His master simply huffed a content chuckle in response, palm dancing down his thrall’s cheek and sending him spiraling. “Wonderful.”

———————————————————————

Taglist- @softvampirewhump @iys-cloud @battyfantasy @xx-adam-xx @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @mis-graves @3-2-whump

If anyone wants to be removed or added to the taglist, please let me know! :)

[snakebites-and-ink]

Whumper-Turned-Caretaker CYOA 7

CW for the series | Masterlist

You chose to explain that you’ve had a change of heart.

You’ve got to give them some explanation. Whumpee might not have reason to believe you right away, but they need to know regardless so they don’t have to be as afraid. Hopefully how gentle you’ve been today will lend at least a little credence to what you have to say.

“Whumpee, we need to talk.—It’s nothing bad, you’re not in trouble or anything. I just—there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Okay,” they peep softly. They meet your gaze, nervous as always but giving you their full attention.

How do you even say this? “I…don’t feel good about hurting you like I have been anymore. I don’t want to keep treating you badly. I’d like to treat you better now. Help you recover, hopefully. I’m not going to harm you anymore, you understand?”

“Yes sir,” they say, but you can tell it’s an automatic response rather than actual agreement. Still, they seem to mull it over after, searching your words for truth or hidden meanings, as if they are actually considering what you said regardless of how they first responded.

OK. Whether they fully believe it or not, at least they know. You've got another hour or so until you'll need to turn in for the night. And since you gave them time to rest earlier, Whumpee's not looking too tired yet. Maybe they could use a low stress activity now that their most serious needs are taken care of.

On the other hand, you could just let them go now that you’ve had the chance to explain yourself. But you are hesitant to risk them going to the police, and you’re not certain whether or not that would be best for Whumpee at this stage anyway.

Taglist: (split into fives because the tungle is being dumb)

@kabie-whump, @whumpanthems, @whumpsoda, @3-2-whump, @generic-whumperz,

@taterswhump, @alivenova, @whumped-by-glitter, @expressionless-fr, @whumpycries,

@whumpsday, @moons-cozy-corner, @echo-goes-aaa, @whumplr-reader, @starfields08000,

@whump-blog, @ivymyers, @currentlyinthesprial

[kabie-whump]

WoW Birthday Whump Day 5

Prompts: Scream / Captivity / “NO!” Additional content: Whumpee and Caretaker are both captives, Caretaker listens to Whumpee being tortured through a wall.

Caretaker leans against the thin wall, pressing their forehead to it. They’re alone now. Whumper had come in a few minutes ago and dragged Whumpee away. 

They can hear voices on the other side of the wall - muffled conversation. The occasional slapping sound followed by a yelp or whimper. It’s killing Caretaker to listen to, knowing there’s nothing they can do to help their friend. 

Then, a scream pierces through the wall.

Caretaker shoots to their feet, wide eyed. “Whumpee! No!” They pound their fist on the wall but it does nothing to quiet the screaming. “Stop it! Don’t hurt them!”

A deathly silence falls over the room, leaving Caretaker panting and holding back tears.

Then the screaming stars up again. It doesn't stop for hours. When Whumpee is tossed back into the cell they're bloody and broken, flinching at every movement as Caretaker draws them into their arms.

[vivulapom]

parasite whump !

this one may get a little intense so bear with me

but ough parasites are so good and also i think underutilized. very big fan of worms but other types of bugs are good too.

just the.. whumper threatening whumpee with it, to varying degrees of effect, from "holy shit they're not fucking around i better obey" to "ummm cool whatever but it could never happen to me" <- clueless

and then they bring it out and possibly scares the shit out of whumpee even more, bonus points if whumpee already hates bugs, and whumper is just revelling in their distress

and then.. the horror of it entering.. can be thru the mouth or skin or ears whatever.. personally a big fan of into the torso.. or even dropped into an open wound.. whumpee straining against their bonds, panicking and screaming

and then having to live with the wound (hurts real bad) and the knowledge that somewhere inside them is another creature who is inside and beneath the skin and burrowing around in there and won't even do whumpee the mercy of killing them, just vibing and eating away at them.. bonus points for weird stuff like the parasite lays eggs in there or it's magic and saps away at their strength they can feel it moving around. that's the good shit!!

have fun :3

[martyr-inthedark]

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Tiny drops of water continuously fell from the pipe Whumpee's chains were attached to. The metal tube was old, rusted, and bent following many weeks of Whumpee struggling to free themselves from the icy iron shackles and the dank basement. The water drops were a new feature in Whumpee's misery, only appearing after a tiny hole broke through the now-brutally-angled metal pipe.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

At first, Whumpee was thrilled to have a source of water not meticulously controlled by Whumper, and to have made some progress in their escape. Hope bloomed in their chest that maybe they could brute-force their way out of their hellish predicament. This only lasted a couple of days, though.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The water fell often times directly onto their head and neck, in a near perfect rhythm. It made it difficult to sleep, and so, difficult to heal in between torture sessions. Not to mention, Whumpee became dreadfully aware that their current place of residence was mapped directly underneath Whumper's shower.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Once, sometimes twice, a day water sprayed from the tiny hole onto the crown of Whumpee's head, drenching their hair, and reaching down the back of Whumpee's shirt. At night Whumpee would violently shake and sob as the moisture cooled their joints and made it impossible for their blood-drained and malnourished body to regulate its internal temperature, while tiny drops of water continued to leak. Guttural coughing forced its way out of Whumpee's throat as mold spread across the wood frames on either side of them for them to breathe in.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Where once Whumpee thought they had a chance of escaping upon noticing the busted pipe, Whumpee now dread the day that Whumper stormed down stairs, burst into the molding room with a sheet of paper listing the much-too expensive water bill that Whumpee no doubt had been the culprit of.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

[whumper-whimsy]

content: suicide

"There will be rest, and sure stars shining

Over the roof-tops crowned with snow

A reign of rest, serene forgetting

The music of stillness,

holy and low..."

- The Music of Stillness, Elaine Hagenburg

Whumpee was on the floor, bleeding out. The gash in their side was spilling blood on the floor, staining the dingy concrete.

Whumper would find them hours later, lying in a pool of their own blood. They would be furious, but they would have no life to take it out on. Not anymore.

Whumpee had been through too much in this basement— years had passed by now. Whumpee couldn't take it.

So when Whumpee found one of Whumper's tools left on the floor, they took the chance.

Now, they looked out that tiny window high on the wall, at the stars shining above them. They knew now that they could finally rest.

[oliversrarebooks]

Brainwashing Chair CYOA 3- The Struggle

tw: pet whump, restraints, captivity, involuntary drugging

You chose: fake a struggle against the two men to sell the act

The two handlers are flanking either side of you, taking your arms and guiding you along. They're not really using force, as though they expect you to come with them without much resistance. 

But while you, the reporter, did sign up to do this, the character you're meant to be playing did not. It doesn't make sense for you to just go quietly, does it? You should struggle a bit to sell the act, and maybe get some juicy footage sent back to your group when you inevitably get subdued.

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself, and twist yourself out of the handlers' grasp just before they take you inside the double doors of the facility. "Let go of me!" you shout. "I don't want to be a pet! Let me go!"

Hopefully, that tiny microphone picked all that up. For a lot of people, this could be their first exposure to how pets are treated and trained, and --

You're caught off guard with how quickly the handlers grab you and press you against the wall. It's not forceful enough to hurt, but the cold concrete scrapes against your skin. "I told you to stay calm," says one of the handlers.

You see the needle out of the corner of your eye a split second before it pierces your skin. Shit! You just expected them to rough you up a bit, not go straight for drugs. You'd prefer to have your full faculties about you as you enter the facility, but it's too late now, with the cold fluid entering your neck.

They pull you away from the wall, your head already beginning to spin. What's in this stuff? Ugh, you should've known this would happen. After all, pets are always physically "perfect", so they had to be using means of control that... that...

The world blurs, and your thoughts slow down. You're too disoriented to put up any more of a fight, fake or otherwise, as they resume dragging you into the building. You're shaking your head in a futile effort to try and stave off the effects of the drug, but it's no use.

You blink, and you're standing in front of a desk. A hospital? It looks like a hospital desk. No... you blanked out for a moment. You're in the pet facility, you remember. It's a sterile, clinical place that really doesn't look much different from a medical building, though, and the receptionist behind the counter is a young woman in a green dress. You fight to keep focus. You have to keep yourself alert to...

...what was it you're doing here...? It's something... complicated, and whatever they put in your system is making complicated thoughts very, very difficult.

"New pet intake?" she says, tapping on her keyboard. "Name?"

You're not sure if she's asking you or one of the handlers.

[whumblr]

Ups and downs

"So how have you been, since...?"

Whumpee didn't respond at first. Merely twisted their brow and expression into a scoff. They stared out the window and slowly turned their head towards him, giving him a side-long exasperated look that just spelled out, 'really?'.

He returned their gaze briefly before his eyes snapped back to the road. Yes, really, it seemed to say. Right along with the reminder not to lie to him. They'd learned to read him quite well over the time they'd spend together. Not in a good way. And not something that's easily forgotten.

They lightly shook their head, rolled their eyes. Since... Since what? Since getting away? Since getting out of hospital, or all wounds had healed? Since getting back into a car with their worst nightmare?

Whumpee shifted, slumping back in their seat as well as they could with both hands cuffed to the car door. They looked dead ahead out the front window and sighed. What did he want them to say here? That they were a complete mess? So he'd have something to gloat about? Or was he genuinely interested in the consequences of his actions?

"Not too bad, to be quite honest."

Whumper, of course, saw right through it. "But not too good either?"

"There's ups and downs."

"What are the ups?"

At the moment, the bar was pretty low for ups. Sometimes they peaked, but mostly they shuddered just over the threshold. "Just... living your normal life. Freely. The day to day things, like... like before," they settled on, not wanting to give too much details.

"And the downs?"

"Are the days that you are fully reminded that there even was a before."

-

General whump taglist: @firewheeesky @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @whumpawink @painsandconfusion

@auroragehenna @chaotic-orphan @lolrpop

[whump-mania]

Dialogue Lines: Whumpee/Whumper/Caretaker Variations

(TWs: torture, cursing, collars, implied murder, drugging, nightmares)

~~~

Whumpee

Classic Whumpee Lines

1. “Touch me and it’s fucking over for you.”

2. “Please, please, I-I didn’t mean to—I didn’t mean to mess up, please don’t hurt me!”

3. “What’s the point of trying? I’m never getting out of here.”

4. “I-It hurts…it h-hurts so bad…why won’t it g-go away…?”

5. “Keep me chained up here all you want. You’re never gonna hear shit from me, buddy.”

~

Whumpee turned Caretaker

1. “Hey, I know, I know how much it hurts. Just breathe. Think of something else. That’s what helped me.”

2. “They got you too? That bastard. I’m so sorry.”

3. “Yes, I do! I do fucking understand, because I lived it! Now let me help you!”

4. “I didn’t get someone to help me through this when I was there. I want to be that person for you.”

5. “You remind me of myself…back then. Before they broke me.”

~

Whumpee turned Whumper

1. “Payback, bitch.”

2. “No. You don’t get to complain. Don’t you remember the rules against speaking out?”

3. “This collar…oh yeah, you remember it, huh? You always liked it on the tightest setting, didn’t you? Let’s start with that.”

4. “Back then, before you, I always thought every person deserved mercy. But no. You’re not even a person.”

5. “Wait, you’re crying? Come on, Whumper, are you kidding?! It took you weeks to make me cry for the first time, and you’re giving up on the first day?”

~~~

Caretaker

Classic Caretaker Lines

1. “This is gonna hurt. It’ll be over soon.”

2. “You think a little nightmare’s gonna hurt you? Nah. I’m here now. I’ll fight it off.”

3. “Just let them down for a second—Let me at least give them some water, it’s been almost two days!”

4. “I don’t know how you were even able to go through something like that…you’re stronger than I’ll ever be.”

5. “Come on, get up. Fresh bandage time—no, I don’t have to clean them today. That’s tomorrow.”

~

Caretaker turned Whumpee

1. “How…h-how did Whumpee do this?”

2. “Anything. I’ll be anything you fucking want me to be—just let them go.”

3. “Sorry, friend, I’m not gonna break as easily as they did. Bummer.”

4. “Wait, y-you didn’t…you didn’t tell me you did this to them…no, k-keep that away from me!”

5. “Whumpee, when they hurt me, just look away. Please.”

~

Caretaker turned Whumper

1. “Who else could have slipped those drugs into your food? Come on now, think a little quicker than that, Whumpee.”

2. “It feels kinda wrong, but…when you’d have nightmares, I…I kinda liked to listen.”

3. “I’m sick of taking care of everyone all the damn time. Well, guess what? Now you have no one.”

4. “Yeah, I’ve got them where you want them. They think they’re safe, but they won’t know what hit them.”

5. “Crazy how I used to patch these scars up…now, I get to make more.”

~~~

Whumper

Classic Whumper Lines

1. “Good morning. Come on, get up. I have so much planned for you today.”

2. “You’re so cute when you try to fight back. It’s like you’re not even trying.”

3. “Aw, you had a nightmare? Was it about me? I hope it was about me.”

4. “Don’t try and be a fucking actor. You and I both know you’re terrified.”

5. “Found you.”

~

Whumper turned Whumpee

1. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry for what I did, just…p-please, have mercy…”

2. “That all you’ve got? I used to hit you three times as hard.”

3. “No. I’m not apologizing. No matter how much you torture me. I regret nothing.”

4. “H-Hey, come on, we can be friends, right? You know I didn’t really mean all those things…h-hey, wait, get away from me!”

5. “No…maybe I deserve this. Maybe this is what I’m getting in return for all the things I did to you.”

~

Whumper turned Caretaker

1. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s just me! …Oh.”

2. “The nightmare…it was about me, wasn’t it?”

3. “I know you can’t ever forgive me…but let me at least do this one thing for you.”

4. “Okay, okay, yes, I did make that scar, but I’m the only one who knows how to make it better, so would you stop moving?!”

5. “Fuck, I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…”

[wisteria-whump]

it's spring so i have to remind everybody that you can and maybe should make your characters afraid of thunderstorms!!