#catboy whumpee

[echo-goes-mmm]

Kitty Elliot AU #4

Masterpost

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Warnings: briefly implied future non-con

New Master reached out for him, and Pet couldn’t help but flinch away. Horrified, he waited for New Master to grab his hair and throw him down, or to slap him, but the blows didn’t come.

Instead, New Master picked up the dishes. He gave Pet permission to explore, and was gone.

Pet- no, his name was Elliot now- breathed out slowly. His heart was rabbit-fast and he felt a bit dizzy from fear. 

He took a deep breath in, and the scents in the room tugged at his attention. Elliot gave in to the curiosity, treasuring a distraction.

He stretched his arms out, arching his back before rocking forward to stretch out his legs. It felt so nice to finally unwind his muscles. He was still sore from the traveling box.

He turned in place, wondering where he should start. The front door made the most sense, and he stood up on stiff legs.

Elliot sniffed the wood. Scents from outside wafted through the crack under the door, sweet flowers and strangers who had passed through. 

He could only barely pick up the smell of Old Master under the layers, and he shrank away from the door.

Was he really forgotten? Left behind by accident? 

Shame curled up inside him and laid heavy like stone. He wasn’t good enough, and Old Master was punishing him. He sank to the floor, curling his knees to his chest.

A whimper pushed its way up his throat, and Elliot swallowed it back down. He didn’t want to be put in the muzzle for being noisy after so long out of it.

He rubbed his cheek on the wood in mourning. Old Master wasn’t coming back for him. Even if it was a test, there was no way he could find him again.

Elliot forced himself away from the door and tried to focus on the smells inside. 

Wood and wood polish, spices and herbs, meat and fresh bread. His mouth watered, but he had already eaten for the day. There was no point in being greedy. Scraps would come tomorrow.

He wandered to the windows, and his eyes caught birds in the trees outside. Elliot liked birds. They were fascinating to watch, their wings fluttering and their beaks clicking. His eyes darted back and forth, and his tail began to swish as the birds sang.

Oh, to play with a bird. Their feathers looked so soft, and surely the meat would be juicy and fresh. They didn’t even know he was there, and it would be so easy-

No. He wasn’t allowed outside. 

Elliot walked away, brushing a hand over a chair and table. Such nice, smooth wood. 

The fireplaces smelled sweet and dusty. He guessed that New Master burned maple wood when it was cold. He liked maple smoke. It smelled so good.

There was a houseplant on the windowsill of the staircase window, and it smelled earthy. Sage.

The windowsills everywhere were so deep that he could sit on them, and Elliot could even lay down on the downstairs one.

Very nice.

The guest rooms all smelled roughly the same; strangers and linen and wood polish.

Elliot paused at the door to New Master’s rooms. He hadn’t properly sniffed them out earlier, but he would know soon enough when New Master dragged him in for entertainment.

He turned to go back downstairs to New Master when he heard the brass bell of the front door opening.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up. 

Elliot was torn. Was it Old Master, coming back? He should go and greet him.

Was it a stranger, come to see New Master? He should run and hide.

Stress and fear made his tail puffy, and he darted down the stairs, hopping up on the stairwell window to spy. He had to know.

It wasn’t Old Master, and disappointment coursed through him. Just a stranger- no, wait. 

This stranger smelled familiar. Elliot’s nose twitched as he watched from the windowsill.

“Ambrose, I’m here!” The stranger called.

“Hey, James,” said New Master from out of view. “You’re late again.”

“Sorry boss,” said James, unapologetic. “Where do you want me?”

Elliot’s tail swished as he realized why James didn’t smell so strange. He worked at the inn; his scent was everywhere.

Unease settled inside him. 

He barely understood New Master, and now James would be around too. 

Elliot slipped upstairs as the men talked. He quietly curled up under the bed and waited for James to go away. 

He curled his tail around himself. He groomed the fur, trying to make himself smell like himself again.

Footsteps thundered through the hall, and a broom scraped the wood with soft scratches.

Elliot flicked his ears in irritation. So loud. He just wanted some quiet.

But New Master lived in an inn, and he’d just have to get used to it.

The door to the room opened, and Elliot sat up. Should he come out? He didn’t want to.

The end of a broom suddenly came at him. He startled, scrambling out the end of the bed. 

James yelped from behind him, but Elliot didn’t look back as he ran downstairs and into the kitchen.

New Master looked up in surprise, and Elliot impolitely ran by to hide. But the stove was hot, and Elliot skittered to a stop at the first wave of heat.

Elliot whirled around to find somewhere else, but Master was in between him and the doorway, frowning.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. 

Elliot shook his head, pressing backwards into a counter. All his fur was standing on end, his spine tingling.

“What the hell was that?” called James. He was coming closer, and Elliot dropped to his knees, chest heaving.

“It’s only James,” cooed Master. He was holding a knife, and Elliot couldn’t take his eyes off of it.

“He works here,” Master continued, and the knife flashed as he brought it down on some meat. “He won’t hurt you.”

James entered the kitchen, and Elliot’s eyes snapped to him.

“What the fuck is that?” James pointed at him. 

Elliot tucked his tail between his legs, shrinking the best he could.

“His name is Elliot,” said Master, still chopping meat. “He’ll be staying a while.”

Elliot trembled. What did that mean? He wouldn’t last without a Master. He was a pet for goodness sake.

James stared at him. “You’re kidding.”

Master paused. “I assure you I’m not.”

“He’s- he’s a cat thingy!”

“The term is catperson, James. And he’s just as smart as you or I, so be nice to him.”

“...right. I’m gonna go finish upstairs.”

“Great, thank you.”

James left, and Elliot breathed in relief. 

But New Master’s words rang in his head.

A while a while a while- He’ll be staying a while-

Elliot smoothed out his tail, trying to physically get rid of his stress.

How long was ‘a while’? 

And how could he turn that into a ‘forever’?

taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog @whump-em

@thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @starfields08000 @littlespacecastle @mylovelyme @whump-cravings

@zeewbee @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @fanastyfinder @roblingoblin285 @whumpzone

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@loserwithsyle @bitchaknso @taterswhump @fleur-a-whump @otterfrost

@hellodecisionparalysis @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94

[cuteangsty]

Whump prompt #5

Cat/Neko whumpees

[tw: nsfw(not a lot, anxiety and OCD(kinda), a bit of self harm]

I guess you could try and make some changes for dogs, but this mostly for cats.

Whumpee having very thin teeth and fangs, almost vampire like, so they are often gagged or muzzled. Which messes up their teeth and jaw and now the fangs are hurting the tongue and inner cheeks.

Whumper clipping whumpee's claws and whumpee feeling their toes and the point of their fingers weird and uncomfortable.

For the more feral whumpees, they keep trying to scratch things (or even themselves) and get frustrated and angry at the fact they are physicaly not able to.

Whumpee getting declawed, just straight up surgery to remove claws. It's painful and the feeling after is distracting and it never really stops hurting.

Whumpee cries and screams for days, trying to force them out, touching the tip of the fingers and only feeling the stitches.

Declawed whumpee foucusing on other Neko's fingers and claws... They feel like they forgot what claws really looked like...

They lost their usual balance without the claws, so they feel like they are walking weirdly and trying to adapt to the lack of balance.

Grabbing things suddenly feels icky for no reason.

Whumper making whumpee use the litter box instead of an actual bathroom.

Whumper holding them by their tail or even tying them to places by the tail.

H e a t

Their body is warm and hard to control, the tail is wagging and twisting like crazy. The lower parts are constantly hard to the point that it hurts and they are too "drunk" to do something about it except rub against things.

Caretaker doesn't want to take advantage of the situation and tries to keep a distance, but whumpee seems soo desperate and in pain...

Whumpee gets very feral lol

Oh there is also an important fact:

Cats vomiting hairballs is somewhat normal, when done during the change of seasons or in a gap between about 2-3 months if I'm not mistaken (don't take my word for it exactly, but it's not supposed to be constant).

If a cat does that constantly it might mean the cat is over cleaning itself, which is most likely a symptom of anxiety.

So imagine that:

For a more feral whumpee: their are constantly coughing up hairballs and caretaker doesn't know what to do.

Whimper never cared, for them it is just what cats do, whatever.

Caretaker tries to bathe whumpee more frequently, wondering why do they feel dirty all the time.

And finally, caretaker suddenly noticing whumpee only licks themselves when he isn't around or paying direct attention for a long time.

Caretaker keeping track of when whumpee starts with the licking and telling them "you're doing it again.", "It's ok, I'm here with you", etc...

And if you want to go more for a neko, or generally less feral just have:

whumpee constantly bathing or just washing their hands, or even getting themselves slightly dirty just to entertain themselves cleaning it.

Or for a more direct request for attention, whumpee asking caretaker to clean everything in them constantly.

And that's it :3

[mothmxwhump]

Bastet

Tw: deaf whumpee, reference to mobility aides being destroyed, beating, nonhuman whumpee, lab/medical whump, systemic inequalities, homeless whumpee, trans male whumpee, gore, noncon stripping and bathing (nonsexual), magic whump, noncon body mod, noncon surgery, surgery without anesthesia

A/N: when Bastet/Alexi’s speech is italicized, it’s to indicate him speaking verbally, rather than in sign language

Alexis huffs as the wind is knocked out of him. The guard standing above him delivers a few more swift kicks to his stomach. Their boss, a redhead wearing mage’s robes and a sharp grin, suddenly holds up his hand to call them off.

“Ready to talk, kitty?” He purrs, and Lexi only snarls, ears flat on his head. His hearing aids were smashed up in the proceeding struggle. “Hm. I see, then.”

“I’m deaf, ya bloody idiot! I can’t hear you after your cronies broke my aids, asshole--”

The man actually laughs. “Ah, that’s the issue?” he asked, signing along with his words.

Lexi growls. “S’Not fucking funny.”

“Guards, release his arms.” the man commands. “Now, tell me, love, was this all your own work, or is there a little group of pathetic thieves like you running around?”

Lexi frowns. Something is wrong now, his hands seem to move of their own accord. “Solo job. Might wanna upgrade your security.”

“I see. What were you after?”

“Anything. I--I was just looking to get stuff to sell, I didn’t even know this was a lab or anything, I swear--- And what did you do to me?”

“Truth spell. Now, why not go for an easier target?”

“Houses with high security have better stuff. People don’t get tons of guards if there’s not something they want to protect.”

“Hm. And… How much have you seen?”

Lexi flinches. Not a good sign. “Not much, I swear. I only saw some of the magic stuff, and the cells. I don’t know anything else, I couldn’t rat you out for this if I wanted to!”

“I’ll give you a choice, darling. Either I press charges for the burglary of a nobleman… or you can stay here and… assist me with my experiments.”

Lexi stares at him. “You’re offering me a job?”

“No. I’m offering you an opportunity to avoid jail.”

Lexi nods. He’d heard horror stories about prison. And prison was the best scenario. He could be sold as a slave or pet, or even killed. “I… I’ll do whatever you want. I won’t tell anyone.”

The man nods. “Good. My name is Virgil, but you’ll call me Master. You’ll get started tomorrow morning.”

Lexi was taken to a tiny cell in the labyrinth of Virgil’s lab, had one hand cuffed to the side of his flimsy cot and given a tiny bit of chicken and plain rice to eat. If he’s honest, the living situation is better than his home, a small structure of discarded wood, boxes, and plastic tarp in tiny elven territory. Food’s scarce there, he rarely gets meat and when he does, it was something he’d killed himself. His bed is an old rug and he rarely avoided getting soaked in a rainstorm. Really, the cell was luxury in comparison.

Morning came far too soon, he decides as he’s dragged by his hair out of the small room and into a bathroom. The guard who was holding him strips him of his clothes and shoves him under icey-cold water from the shower. Lexi grunts in pain and shock, his head banging against the temperature knob.

The woman pays him no mind, wetting his hair and roughly scrubbing shampoo in. After his hair and ears are cleaned to her satisfaction, she turns up the water pressure to help in scrubbing his skin clean.

When she finally determines he’s clean enough, she shoves a white tee-shirt and gray shorts into his hands. Once he’s dressed, his hands are cuffed again and he’s led to what looks like an operating room.

…

“Hm. What was your name again?” Virgil’s question catches him off guard.

“Lexi.” He manages. “…How exactly am I helping you…?”

“Lay down on the table. Stay still and this’ll be quick and easy.”

“Wh-“

“Get on the table.”

There’s a dangerous look in Virgil’s eyes. Lexi decides to do as he’s told. Straps are quickly placed across Lexi’s arms, legs, and chest, making it near impossible to move.

Virgil wheels over a stool and tray, various artifacts scattered amongst his surgical tools.

“I’d recommend against squirming, Lexi.” Virgil’s expression is cold. “Now… Lexi just won’t do for a name. Hm… no, it’s far to human. How about Bastet?”

Lexi stares at him, unable to respond with more than an unintelligible noise of discontent.

“Yes, that will do nicely. Bastet.”

Lexi can’t help the tears that spring to his eyes.

“Now, I’m not going to waste anestesia on you, so don’t move. If you make me screw this up, I’ll just have to start over again. If you survive, that is.” He takes out a needle, though, filling it with a strange fluid and injecting it into Lexi’s neck.

Lexi whimpers, eyes wide as Virgil picks up a tool to measure him with. He gently pulls up the shirt Lexi’s wearing, muttering to himself. Lexi squirms at that, not wanting Virgil to see his bare chest.

“I said to hold still.” Virgil glares at him. He takes a quick measurement of the area above Lexi’s heart, and then spins around on his stool, taking a note of it in a little lab journal.

When he moves back, he’s holding a scalpel. The tip presses down on Lexi’s chest and he whines, trying not to move and cut himself even more.

Virgil huffs at that and grabs a roll of duct tape, smoothing a piece over his victim’s lips.

“Mmph!” Lexi protests, to no avail. Virgil’s attention is already back to making the incision on Lexi’s chest, pressing the scalpel deep and cutting a line.

Lexi screams at that, the pain mingling with the wrongness of the cold laboratory air on his insides. He thrashes impulsively, and Virgil presses a hand on his shoulders to stop him.

Finally, the cut seems deep enough to satisfy Virgil, and he wheels away, returning again with the caliper and a softly glowing gold gemstone. Lexi sobs, the pain and chill of the instrument pressing against his heart overwhelming him. He should be passed out by now, he’s fairly certain of that, but whatever Virgil pumped into his veins seems to be keeping him painfully aware.

Virgil jots that measurement down too, then grabs what looks like a power tool. A new wave of panic seizes Lexi, but Virgil only chuckles and uses it to trim down the gemstone.

Then, he picks the scalpel back up. Slowly, agonizingly, he uses the device to cut through the arteries and veins and muscle keeping Lexi’s heart in his body. There’s a horrible moment where Lexi’s staring at his own organ, his heart, clutched in Virgil’s hands. He screams louder than ever before, feeling the blood gush and the empty cavity where the essential organ is meant to be. Virgil presses the cold stone into the spot, and says something Lexi’s too panicked to decipher.

Finally, mercifully, he passes out, going limp in his restraints.

[whumpy-galaxy]

So I’ve been planning out Kai’s backstory and I wanna share it with y’all but that’s gonna involve me writing a story and I’m sick and dont have the energy for that rn-

So uhh

Do y’all wanna hear about it now or later on in the story???

[pardonmekreature]

I like how whumpees are just cats sometimes. Whumpee finally trusts caretaker enough to let them touch them, and caretaker feels like the most special person in the world? Bitc that's a cat. Caretaker is secretly just pspspsing the entire story.

[patheticlittleguy]

imagine a catboy whumpee abandoned on the side of the road sad in a cardboard box

[whumpshaped]

anon asked:

I took my cat to the vet for his annual check-up this morning, and the same as in the past, he's been super clingy and following me around everywhere and wanting to cuddle since we got home. I don't know if it's because it was a scary experience or if it's because he's not feeling the greatest physically because he got two shots and some blood taken or what.

But yeah, now it's really got me wanting some pet whump in a similar vein. If you have the time for it and the interest, can we get a little human/humanoid pet post vet appointment whump where they're wanting/needing comfort? I know you favor bad caretakers, so maybe a little of that, but can we mostly get the soft squishy stuff?

Thanks. ^_^

---

i have a drabble abt a catboy getting a shot here so i'm gonna use those ocs if that's ok :)

itty bitty paw paws masterlist

tw hybrid whumper, whumper turned whumpee, sickfic, stockholm syndrome

"I hate these shots," Blitzen whined weakly, pawing at Charlie's arm to keep them by his side. "I always get so sick..."

"It's gonna be alright," they soothed, using their free hand to brush Blitz's damp hair out of his face. "It's alright every year, isn't it?"

Blitzen huffed, but it turned halfway into a miserable sob. "I'm not gonna go next year. I'm done. I'd rather get rabies."

Charlie's mood dropped instantly. "I don't think you would. Unless you enjoy your brain fucking melting."

Their charge gave them a pitiful look, and their expression softened. They didn't mean to sound harsh, really. But after seeing what rabies could do to an animal, they'd lost their will to joke about it.

"Sorry. It's just that I wouldn't in a million years want to see you go through that shit. It's horrifying." Blitzen was way less scary like this, incapacitated and feverish, and Charlie mustered up the courage to reach out and scratch behind his ear. He purred softly. "I'd rather you tear me to ribbons with those stupid claws every year."

"That's dumb," he mumbled, but he pushed his head into their palm anyway. Charlie rolled their eyes.

"I'll go change the cloth, alright? I'll just be a moment–"

"No!" Blitzen's hold tightened on their arm, sharp claws once again digging into their flesh and drawing blood. "Stay!"

"Blitzen!"

"Stay!"

"I'm staying, I'm staying!" they conceded. "Let go! This is not sick cat behaviour! At least pretend to be a little weaker!"

Blitzen withdrew his claws, but he kept his hold on their arm. He was looking at them like he was afraid Charlie would leave him outside in the rain in a cardboard box.

"I'm not leaving," they reiterated, calmer this time. Blitzen hesitantly let go. "There you go. It's okay."

"You're really gonna do this to me again next year?" he sniffled.

It was stupid. Any sane person would've just let Blitzen catch some cat sickness and used it as an opportunity to escape.

Charlie sighed. "Yeah. I'm sorry, Blitz."

He whined and turned onto his side, burying his face in the pillow. "I hate you."

They gingerly took the wet cloth that fell onto the mattress as he'd turned and put it on the radiator. "That's alright, just try to get some sleep. It won't seem so dire once you've rested."

~

taglist: @whumpsday @kim-poce @hidden-dreamland @the-scrapegoat @catnykit

[a-crumb-of-whump]

Coco Whump #2: Roasted On An Open Fire

Credit to @/lionfloss for the stamp

Masterlist

Requested by: anonymous

Content: Burns, heat whump, creepy whumper, fairy whumpee, immortal whumpee, catboy whumpee, multiple whumpees, gags, restrained, [mentioned] impalement, forced to hurt, creepy whumper, pet whump.

-

“You know, you’re really insistent on making this more difficult for yourself, aren’t you, pet?” 

Ollie had nothing to say. He couldn’t, as long as he had the gag in his mouth. Spit was already dripping down his chin and his jaw was aching, and yet he managed to ignore it all as he watched Alex bind Coco to a long stick they’d found no more than a few minutes ago. 

“If you’d just followed my orders, you wouldn’t be so restrained,” Alex continued, pressing her thumb against Coco’s bare chest to hold it there. “And you, you annoying little shit. I’d just impale you and do a traditional roast but then you wouldn’t get to experience the fun. How inconvenient of you, huh? Got anything to say for yourself?”

Coco whimpered, Its face flushing red as it listened to Alex’s ridicules.  “It’s so sorry, master,” it sniffled. “It wishes it could be better for you.”  

They seemed so relieved when Alex gave it a smile and gently stroked their thumb across Its head. Ollie thought it was sickening. Coco was so easily pleased and manipulated, and nothing made him angrier than seeing someone abuse those qualities. 

“I wish you could be, too,” they replied. They seemed to be feigning disappointment, and while Ollie could see right through her facade, knowing that it actually didn’t matter to them near as much as they were putting on, Coco couldn’t. It immediately teared up. “Oh, don’t cry, sweet thing. It can’t be helped, now can it? I won’t go so far as to say you’re good enough, but between the two of you, I can make it work. I promise.” 

They gently tapped it on the nose with their pinky finger before making a small noise of triumph as soon as they realised they were finally done tying them to the stick. 

“Not gonna slip, are you?” 

The fairy shook Its head, briefly wriggling It’s body to try and test how secure her knot really was. “No, master!” it finally concluded with a shaky smile, so pathetically desperate to please. “Coco will be good!” 

Alex grinned. “There’s my good pet. Alright, do you think you’re ready for the next part, then? I’m not gonna lie - this is gonna hurt a lot, but I trust that you’ll be as good as you were the last time I cooked you, right?” 

The terror was clear in Coco’s eyes as it nodded and turned Its head to glance down at the fire it was about to be positioned on top of. Its entire body was shaking, though Ollie could see just how hard it was trying to remain calm for the sake of Alex.

In front of ollie was a metal stick with two pieces that jutted outwards at the top, creating a ‘Y’ shape. It was handmade and done fairly quickly, so not one of Alex’s best works, but it was good for what the human had planned, which was to position the stick on it so it could be slowly rotated over the next little while. 

Alex had explained how everything was going to work not long before this, so Ollie was well aware of why he was the one sitting in front of it. He stared hatefully down at the stupid piece of metal and then toward the fire, before meeting Coco’s eyes as Alex finally put Coco in position. 

Directly over the flames. 

“You better grab onto the stick before I let it go,” Alex taunted with a grin, reaching out to scratch Ollie behind the ears the moment he shakily grabbed onto the stick. Coco had already begun to cry, and Ollie could see the flames slowly creeping higher. He struggled to push the gag into a more comfortable spot within his mouth as the rotating of the stick started. 

Alex quickly returned to lounging in their camp chair, feet propped up on the cooler they had sitting in front of them with all their beers and other various drinks inside. They were thoroughly enjoying watching the scene, and Ollie could do nothing but glare at her. 

Even then, that didn’t last long after she yanked the chain around his neck as a warning. 

“Look at you, sweet pet,” she cooed to the fairy after a few minutes. Coco’s crying had only gotten louder, and there were now blisters and raw skin appearing in spots that were closest to the flames. “You’re doing so good for me. So good. Why don’t you thank Ollie for keeping you nice and warm, hm?” 

Coco let their head fall forward as a small sob tore through them. “Tha-ank you, Ollie!” 

A few tears welled in Ollie’s eyes, and he squeezed them shut to avoid looking Coco in the eyes again. He couldn’t do it.

Again, Alex reached out to pet him; running her fingers through his dirty, matted hair. “Good pet. Don’t stop until I say so or I will gladly restart the timer.”

Ollie’s shaking hands reluctantly obeyed, despite the guilt eating at him. He just wanted this to end.

-

Taglist: @whumpsday @fuckthatsaproblem @mazeish

Let me know if you want to be added or taken off!

[whumpsday]

catboy kane au where we commit catboy shenanigans together

YESSSSSS AMAZING

when i started this blog, i'd actually planned on having two main series: kane & jim (which panned out), and another one called zack & buddy that was gonna be about a catboy whumpee in a pet whump universe. i ended up realizing that i didn't think i had what it takes to write that second one, but it still lives in my head rent-free...

[whumpurr]

Can you tell us about ALL your whumpy ocs? Whether or not you've written for them here? I need to know OwO

ok!! im gonna stick to the whumpees for brevitys sake

Sawdust

the classic pet whumpee! adorable, broken, very conditioned. my first oc that i made specifically for whump, but not the first i made on this list!

Carus

pet whumpee but make it rebellious and broken in a different way! made mostly for intimate whumper shit bc i didnt wanna go that hard with that on sawdust bc he behaves very young despite being an adult

Nero

yall havent met him yet! he's a whumpee kept in an a zoo exhibit, made to wear tiger ears! hes buddies with his exhibit caretaker. i've got a wip of him in the works!

Apollo

circus strongman! very naive and not incredibly smart. big softie! relies on rogue for communication most of the time. he genuinely believes that his whumper has his best interest in mind

Rogue

circus aerial acrobat! small, rebellious, smart, they know that their and apollo's whumper is practically evil, but stick around because apollo doesn't want to leave

Wreckx

yall havent met him yet! cyberpunk techwear catboy. his whole job is spying on ppl through their cameras. very very lonely, very very sad. generally a shitty guy i love to hate!! more situation whump rather than a whumper.

Fang

i may have talked briefly about him? post apocalyptic gamer man, another shitty dude who i love to hate, except hes not malicious like wreckx is, just clueless with terrible, terrible luck.

that's all who i can remember off the top of my head!! my inbox is always open for all of them if anyone would ever like to hear more about them!

[echo-goes-mmm]

Kitty Elliot AU #2

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: past abuse

The catboy ate with gusto, and Ambrose prayed he wouldn’t get sick from eating so much so soon.

He looked filthy, dust and dirt and bruises. His hair looked gray and matted, and from a glance Ambrose could see his underwear was practically hanging off of him.

“Do you have a name?” he asked.

The catboy paused in the middle of drinking, his tongue peeking out before disappearing.

The young man stared at Ambrose, unblinking. His mouth opened and closed silently before shaking his head. He went back to the water.

“My name is Ambrose,” he said. “Is there something I can call you?”

The catboy glanced up and blinked in confusion. 

“Uh- I could make something up?” the young man lifted a shoulder in a shrug before resuming eating.

Ambrose’s mind worked, trying to come up with a list of names. Alex, Conner, Jason, Max, Elliot, Felix.

“How about Max?” No response. “Conner?” Nope. “Elliot?”

The catboy looked up, licking a stray drop from his lip. He opened his mouth and closed it again, a faint squeak from the back of his throat.

Hardly a sound, barely a meow, but it would do.

“You like Elliot?” The catboy nodded before going after the bread on the plate.

Ambrose watched Elliot finish eating. The fruit was gone, but Elliot had made a face when he ate it. Clearly not a favorite item, but he probably couldn’t afford to be picky. Ambrose made a mental note not to give him fruit.

Elliot didn’t seem to know what to do with himself now that the food was all gone. He just stared at Ambrose, still crouched on the floor. His hands and feet were under him, as if he thought he might need to pounce or run.

Ambrose rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly awkward. Elliot’s eyes followed the movement.

“How about a bath? With some nice, hot water?” he offered. Elliot’s eyes glanced over to the basin and pump in the corner and back to Ambrose.

“Upstairs, I mean,” clarified Ambrose. “I have a better bathroom on my floor.”

Elliot turned and slipped back under the bed. Fair enough.

“Alright,” he said, picking up the dishes. “I’ll let you rest. I’ll see you tomorrow, I suppose.”

He washed the dishes and cleaned up before heading upstairs. Ambrose hesitated outside Elliot’s door. It was silent.

Ambrose shook his head, still in disbelief. He trudged up the staircase that led to his room. 

What a day.

He lit some incense at the small altar, and told Janus about his day. A habit he never could bring himself to stop, even though it hurt.

Ambrose took a hot shower, scrubbing the day’s work off his body. 

He hoped Elliot would stay for a while, or at least until he was strong enough to leave. He could use the company.

Even though he lived in a small town with plenty of people who knew him, he was still lonely.

A friend, a real one, would be welcome. 

Ambrose slipped into bed and fell asleep.

___________________

He knocked on Elliot’s door after breakfast, scrambled eggs and toast in hand.

“Good morning,” he said, opening it after no response.

He caught a flash of tail disappearing under the bed. Huh. The sheets had been used; Elliot had slept in the bed, and that was progress.

“It’s just me,” he called out quietly, closing the door behind him. “I have some breakfast for you.”

Elliot’s face poked out from under the bed. Cute.

Ambrose set the plate out, a few feet from the bed. Elliot crawled out again to eat. 

He still looked wary, especially with Ambrose standing instead of sitting, but food was apparently more important than fear.

His claws weren’t out, which was a concern. His fingers looked fine, so he wasn’t declawed, but the marks on his body indicated violence.

What if using his claws was beaten out of him?

Ambrose scanned his body, taking in the wounds. There were scars on his back, raised and long. Bruises were everywhere, green and sickly yellow, purple and black. A prominent one in the shape of a boot lined his side.

Ambrose wasn’t wearing shoes yet, and maybe that was why Elliot was comfortable at his feet despite the clear history of being kicked.

Ambrose crouched down, and Elliot flinched. “Sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Have you thought more about having a bath?” 

Elliot’s ears and tail twitched. 

“I just think it might be nice to have a wash. Don’t you want to be a little cleaner? Maybe get your hair and fur brushed?”

Elliot hesitated before taking another bite.

“You can pick out some clothes to borrow afterwards,” he offered.

Elliot didn’t seem convinced. 

Ambrose chewed the inside of his cheek. “I have some cream downstairs. You can have some after we’re done.” 

Elliot’s head shot up, his eyes wide. “I promise,” Ambrose said. “You can have a whole mug.” He hoped it wouldn’t hurt his stomach, which was likely, but it was his only bargaining chip.

Elliot wiped his face with the back of his hand, nodding. 

“Great. We’ll get it done after you finish eating, okay?” 

Elliot went back to his eggs, and Ambrose sighed in relief.

Food, water, a bath, some clothes, he checked off in his head. Pain medication, maybe. Slave for those bruises. And we can get rid of that awful collar.

Elliot cleared his plate in a scant few minutes, looking up at Ambrose expectantly.

“Good,” he said, and he could see the bare hint of a smile on Elliot’s face.

Ambrose let them upstairs, Elliot trailing silently behind him. He began to run the hot water, checking the temperature every few minutes to make sure it wasn’t too hot.

Soon the tub was full, and Ambrose fetched a towel and washcloth for Elliot.

But when he got back to the bathroom, the catboy was gone. Ambrose set the towels aside, pushing down his panic.

“Elliot?” he called. No answer.

Shit.

taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog @whump-em

@thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @starfields08000 @littlespacecastle @mylovelyme @whump-cravings

@zeewbee @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @fanastyfinder @roblingoblin285 @whumpzone

@snakebites-and-ink @astrokea @latenightcupsofcoffee @tobiaslut @whumpsoda

@loserwithsyle @bitchaknso @cepheusgalaxy

[whump-queen]

this is a hard one bc

Puppy akia pros:

pubby. yes. tail wagging when you hurt someone. barking. possibly muzzled whumpee akia

Catboy akia pros:

Claws,,,, teef,,,, solidarity w @itsmeblackcat bc you're both cats now,, lil meow meow

TEEEEF OMOM CHOMP

also… mlem

[mothmxwhump]

A day late but a valentines drawing of my and @wormywhumpbabeyy ‘s ocs Bastet (mine, left) and Silas (his, right)

[freaknation]

Welcome to FREAK NATION.

We are a congregation of likeminded whump enjoyers looking to SHARE THE GOSPEL!!

Our main stories, and their respective characters, are: -Nitimur in Vetitum >Dante Jacinto: A seasoned detective dedicated to ensuring justice no matter the circumstances. About as stereotypical of a detective as one can get, including the masochism. >Aleksei Levitsky: An ex-military man turned bounty hunter who partners with Dt. Jacinto. Transitioned from defiant whumpee to submissive whumpee. >Hendrik Fritz: A formerly renowned military scientist turned serial killer. Striking fear across the country through his brutal-mutilation side hobby. >Axel Wright: A professional whumpee that evolves into a revenge-seeking catboy. Who doesn't love a good ol' switch-a-roo? -Others will be added when introduced. :)

[whumpy-galaxy]

AaaaaH

Anyways I made a new OC and got immediately obsessed with him. What do y’all think?

Tags: Nonhuman whumpee, vampire whumpee, catboy whumpee, chains, muzzles, starvation, feeding off himself? (Should that be a tag?), self-comfort ig

Kai couldn’t take it anymore. He fought fiercely against the muzzle that held his mouth shut, managing to break the strap that held it on and force it off, though definitely concussing himself pretty badly. It felt so good to finally have it off. He could feed again. It had been so long but... there wasn’t anything around to feed off. Not even a mouse. He could’ve sworn it had been weeks he’d been down there, chained up in the basement of that abandoned house. There had been mice and rats running around the whole time. His head still throbbed from where he had hit the wall trying to catch one of them. Where were they all now?

Kai was starving. He curled into the corner of the room, sinking his fangs into his forearm. Anything to get at least a *drop* of blood. He was so cold. He needed to feed, or he knew he would die. As he started suckling what little blood he could get from himself, he closed his eyes and willed himself home. Safe. Back in the arms of his older sister, Jen. Jen didn’t care if he was a monster, she just cared that he was never afraid. Even when their mother was too busy to take care of them, Jen would always make sure Kai was fed and safe.

He was shaken back to reality when the blood trickling into his mouth started to run dry. He panicked, sinking his fangs deeper into his wrist, until he finally couldn’t get another drop. He removed his fangs from his arm and leaned his head against the cold, concrete wall. He was going to die here, in this basement, without seeing a single person.

Kai drifted off, imagining he was safe and warm in his sisters arms. He had no clue what was in store for him.

[patheticlittleguy]

catboy whumpee picked up off the side of the road. mewling pathetically in the backseat. shivering. sitting on a mouse themed beach towel to keep the car seat dry.