#like one and a half Whumpee

[shywhumpauthor]

Today is a “tell myself I’m going to write but never actually commit to writing” kinda day

[whumpsoda]

I. I love vampire hunters turned thralls. Brainwashed into adoring little pets to creatures of which they once chased down with the goal of killing… UGH just someone who used to hate the thing they now address as master… bonus points if they get their memories erased and have no memory of their hunter past :3

[loonybun]

doll whump but the whumper is an OOAK customizer and the whumpee can feel everything that’s happening as they’re transformed into something completely new 💖

[whump-captain]

it's my oc i can give him a cane if i want to

[ID in alt]

[woulddieforloki]

decided to write some feral loki shit today and obviously as such I spent 80% of my day reading whump prompts that were sometimes tangibly related to my fic except not really

[chaotic-orphan]

That’s Enough

“Stop it,” Caretaker said once the sound of knuckles thudding mutely turned to squelching. Caretaker stared at Whumpee, the sweat flying from them as they continued to punch the punching bag. “Hey. Whumpee, that’s enough.”

Whumpee didn’t listen. They just kept jabbing in the one two movement they had been doing for the half hour. Caretaker let go of the bag but Whumpee moved with it.

“Hey! Whumpee,” Caretaker hissed, stepping in front of Whumpee, hands up palms facing Whumpee. “That’s enough, you’re hurting yourself.”

Whumpee didn’t listen. Instead, they started punching Caretaker’s hands. Caretaker snapped their hand closed but Whumpee retracted their arm swiftly to their chest to punch again, their eyes distant and hard.

“Whumpee! Whumpee,” Caretaker snapped as Whumpee’s fists started coming harder on Caretaker’s palms. Caretaker stepped forward into Whumpee’s punches and reached a hand up, locking it around Whumpee’s wrist. Whumpee yanked it back but Caretaker held firm.

Only then did Whumpee seem to snap back into themselves. “Let go of me.”

“I said that’s enough, Whumpee. You’re bleeding.”

Whumpee yanked their wrist back towards them but Caretaker didn’t let go. Instead they grabbed Whumpee’s other wrist and clamped their fingers around it too, stopping Whumpee from hurting themself anymore.

Whumpee’s eyes narrowed. “Let go of me, Caretaker! I can look after myself.”

“Clearly you can’t!”

“It’s just a bit of blood!” Whumpee yelled, spit flying from their mouth in anger. “What does it matter?!”

“Blood is meant to be inside your body, Whumpee, not outside.”

“It’s my body,” Whumpee told Caretaker, yanking one of their wrists free. “I’m allowed do what I want to it so let me go.”

“I’m not gonna just stand here and watch you hurt yourself.”

Whumpee let out a crazed, humourless bark of laughter. “Oh, what?” Whumpee asked, eyes glimmering with cruelty. “You want to make me stop, huh? You gonna tie me down like Whumper did because I’m not following your orders? You want to participate like Whumper did?” Whumpee demanded, squaring up to Caretaker, taking a step forward forcing Caretaker back. Whumpee’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Or maybe you want to be the one to make me bleed.”

The question made Caretaker sick. Comparing them to Whumper when all they’ve done is try and help Whumpee? The fact that Whumpee could even make that comparison at all… It was too much. Looking after Whumpee was too much. They let go of Whumpee’s wrist and turned away, walking towards the doors of the gym.

“What? Where are you going now?”

“I told you to stop, Whumpee,” said Caretaker without turning around, pulling off their own gloves. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine. Not my problem.”

Caretaker turned and looked over their shoulder at Whumpee as they opened the door. “But I won’t stand here and watch you finish the job Whumper started. Destroy yourself, why don’t you? You’ll do it on your own.”

[whump-queen]

I like the idea of a shock collar being like training wheels for a whumpee.

It’s a big deal when whumper can finally switch it out for a silken new one or even a sturdy leather one. 

Imagine the reveal of a whumpee’s new collar. The praise they’d receive from the other whumpers at a fancy event—for being such a good boy. Perhaps it makes their skin crawl. Or maybe it makes them proud.

Imagine whumpers at the party seeing a pet with an ugly shock collar still locked around their neck and judging instantly. They know it’s been bad. Maybe the pet had messed up that week. Maybe it’d been a bit too clumsy or a bit too stupid. Maybe disobeyed orders, or god forbid tried to escape. Rumors spread quickly amongst a half-drunk, gossiping crowd. 

Whumper blames whumpee, of course, saying it’s all their fault. How bad they are for forcing whumper’s hand, for making them lock that ugly thing back around their pet’s throat. How useless and worthless they are, that they have to embarrass whumper like this. 

But they will wear their shame. And they will bear the painful consequences of that tempting little remote in whumper’s pocket. All. Night. Long. 

[the-rad-pineapple]

day 25 of @augusnippets

intimate whumper

Whumpee is chained to the wall, the cold metal has rubbed his wrists and ankles raw. When Whumper quietly comes into the room, he flinches. 

“Shhh,” Whumper hushes gently as he approaches. 

Before he realizes what he’s doing, Whumpee is shaking his head, curling in on himself, ducking his head down. 

“Oh, my beautiful thing, please don’t hide from me.” And somehow Whumper actually sounds hurt. As if it actually bothers him to have Whumpee shy away from him like this. 

Whumper is close. He kneels, and Whumpee can feel his body heat—his warmth—and craves it. 

He’s disgusted with himself for wanting it. 

“I’m here now,” Whumper reassures as if his presence is a wanted thing. As if he’s the balm to the wound instead of the knife. 

Days of torture and little sleep have caused Whumpee’s inhibitions to crumble like the Tower of Babel, and a fearful whimper passes through his lips without his consent. 

“Oh, my pet. You make such beautiful noises for me. Such a gift, and I haven’t even started.” 

A firm yet gentle grip on his chin has Whumpee tilting his head up to meet Whumper’s eyes. 

Whumper is staring at him with awe like he’s a shepherd in Bethlehem seeing the angels tell him of Christ’s birth. 

No one has ever looked at Whumpee like this. 

Whumpee’s eyes flutter closed, and he hears Whumper’s sharp intake of breath. 

Warm hands are on his shoulders. They pull him flush against Whumper, and he feels so warm and soft that Whumpee falls into him willingly. Whumper’s hands skate down Whumpee’s ribcage. Whumper holds him close. Tightly but not rough. 

One of Whumper’s hands slips under Whumpee’s shirt. There’s a half-second where Whumpee feels the cold press of the blade before the pain. 

Whumpee isn’t quite sure what sound he makes when the blade penetrates his skin, the pain floods his senses and blots out everything except Whumper’s warmth. 

Whumpee grips onto Whumper’s shirt. All he can do is hold on and ride out the pain. This is how Whumper likes it. 

Whumper has tortured him sharp and slicing and ruthlessly fast, but Whumpee soon realized if he allows the broken noises to escape and reaches to Whumper for comfort, Whumper will slow down. He’ll hold Whumpee. He’ll hold him like he’s something rare and precious. Valuable. 

“Shhh, shhh,” Whumper says. He begins rocking them slightly, the blade stabbing deeper and deeper into Whumpee with the movements. 

Quiet, devastated noises erupt from Whumpee’s throat each time the blade sinks in farther. 

Whumper presses gentle kisses to Whumpee’s head. The touch is light like a ghost. Ethereal. 

“Your beauty is magnificent,” Whumper praises. “There is nothing in all of creation like you.” 

Whumper drops the blade with a clink before his hands are under Whumpee’s shirt again. He traces the newest wound with so much reverence it would make a saint jealous. 

“I think I’ll keep you forever,” Whumper promises. 

[whump-or-whatever]

This is a reminder to leave your whumpee absolutely ruined.

Leave them shaking like a leaf, hardly able to draw a breath.

Leave them covered in so many bruises they can barely move without wincing.

Leave them absolutely blanketed in scars that will never fade.

Leave them rocking back and forth, tears streaming down their face in the midst of a panic attack.

Leave them unable to be near another person without eyeing them warily and flinching every time they move.

Leave them so out of it they can’t see, can’t hear, can’t speak, can’t move, can’t think.

Leave them stumbling and tripping over their own feet, scrambling to get back up each time as they try to escape.

Leave them struggling against the encroaching darkness as they bleed out.

Leave them half-drowned, soaked to the bone, clothes clinging to them as they sputter and gasp on the floor.

Leave them shivering, teeth chattering, trying to rub warmth back into their body.

Leave them delirious with fever, head lolling, eyes unfocused, covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

Leave them begging for mercy, promising to do anything just to make it stop.

Leave them exhausted, barely able to keep their eyes open let alone put one foot in front of the other.

Leave them so broken they can’t bring themself to care about anyone or anything.

Leave them a blubbering mess, stumbling over their words trying to say the right thing to please whumper.

Leave them so mortified by everything that’s happened to them that they don’t even want to be found anymore because they don’t want people to know.

[a-living-canvas]

Darling Fool

"Oh, God…" Whumpee silently muttered. Their left ankle was bruised and slightly bleeding. Their bare feet touched the rough surface of the road. They didn't have any jackets, so Whumpee hugged themselves to provide some heat for the cold weather.

But it's all worth it! They would meet Caretaker soon. Caretaker must be proud of them for finally escaping from Whumper. They couldn't wait for the warm blanket, a loving hug from Caretaker, and to sleep in their bed again.

"Huff…huff…" Whumpee leaned on the wall nearby, eyes blurry and heavy. They haven't eaten since they escaped from Whumper. The feeling of hunger slowly got to them. They could smell the delicious aroma of food from the restaurant. The sight made them drooled a little.

Whumpee continued walking. They ignored the weird and judgemental look people glance at them. Their shirt was stained with blood, their hair was messy, knees bleeding. They looked more like a homeless person rather than someone who needed help. 

Their eyes perked up when they saw a public restroom. They made their way to the place and looked at their reflection in the mirror. God, they looked awful. Caretaker must be scared to see them like this. Whumpee washed their face, cleaning the dirt and stain on their shirt and skin.

They tried to smile too. It felt awkward at first, given how long it had been since they got kidnapped by Whumper. They hoped they could make the prettiest smile for Caretaker. 

Whumpee walked out of the public restroom and continued their way to their house. A few people offered them a ride, but they refused in fear of being taken again. Half an hour passed, Whumpee finally arrived at their house. Excitement building inside them as they took a deep breath and knocked the door three times.

…

Nobody answered. Whumpee knocked again, this time they pressed the doorbell. They waited and waited but nobody came out. Anxiety rushed through them. They knocked a little louder and faster, enough to make the people inside the house feel annoyed with the infuriating sound.

They kept knocking until finally the door opened and Caretaker appeared from behind. Whumpee's eyes perked up at Caretaker, they nearly hugged them out of happiness but stopped themselves from doing so. Caretaker looked at Whumpee with a frown on their face. 

"Do I…know you?"

Caretaker asked. Whumpee's face went pale when they realised Caretaker didn't recognise them. Did they look…that different?

"It's…it's me…Whumpee…" Whumpee said, they tried to move closer to Caretaker but Caretaker backed away, their index finger covering their nose. Whumpee immediately stopped walking at the action, feeling embarrassment washed over them. 

"Sorry, I don't think you are the person I'm looking for." Caretaker said as they slowly went inside again when Whumpee grabbed their wrist, resulting in Caretaker slapped their face.

"Don't touch me, you creep!" 

"Caretaker, it's me! Please! Don't do this to me!" Whumpee pleaded, ignoring the sting feeling on their cheek. They kept clinging to Caretaker but they just pushed them away. Whumpee hugged Caretaker by their waist, holding them tight as tears watering in their eyes. 

"Please, please remember me! I'm Whumpee!" 

Caretaker sighed in frustration. They looked at Whumpee with a cold gaze. "Nice acting. But just so you know, there's already a few people who pretended to be my Whumpee just to get the money I offer from the missing poster."

"But I'm the real one! I'm not lying!" Whumpee showed their smile to Caretaker, tears rolled down on their cheeks. "Look at me, Caretaker! Don't you remember my smile?" Whumpee asked hopefully. Their smile faded when Caretaker pulled out their wallet and held out a few dollars to them.

"Take this, if you are that desperate for money." 

Whumpee pulled away from Caretaker. They swallowed hard as they took in the reality they were facing. Caretaker sighed as Whumpee stayed still like a rock, they put the money on the ground before going inside and closed the door. Whumpee bit their bottom lip, holding the tears in as they watched the money scattered around their bare feet.

They walked away from Caretaker's house, leaving the money untouched. 

~

"Oh, dear…" Whumper said, as they looked down at Whumpee. Whumpee was laying down on the street, hugging themselves tightly to fight the cold. They looked hazy and dazed, probably from starvation. Whumper sighed softly. They crouched down in front of Whumpee and stroked their hair.

"I told you, nobody cares about you anymore except me. Why do you need to be so stubborn, hm?" 

Whumper lifted Whumpee in bridal style, carried them gently as they walked to their car. 

"I will give you a warm blanket and a hot shower once we get home. Okay?"

Whumpee nodded, resting their head against Whumper's chest. Whumper rubbed their cheeks, frowning in concern. 

"They hit you?"

Whumpee didn't answer, they just started crying again. "Hey…hey…shh…don't cry, I'm here with you now." Whumper held them tightly, trying to comfort them as much as they could.

"C-caretaker doesn't remember me anymore…t-they gave me money, b-but I don't want that…!" 

"Shh…I know, I know." Whumper looked at Whumpee sympathetically. "Let's take care of your empty stomach first, okay?"

Whumpee nodded, "Okay…"

~

Part 2

[jordanstrophe]

Abandoned Whumpee

[Previous]--[Masterlist]--[Next] CW: Taken, whumper medic/forced medical whump, stitches, blood loss, defiance, restrained

The last thing whumpee saw was blood leaving their body

... And nearly all of it.

They flicked their eyes open; they were laying on a table with a light beaming on their chest. Whumper was standing next to them rummaging around equipment and didn't notice them awake.

Whumpee silently stared with a horrified gaze. They could see the gloves whumper wore, drenched and dripping with blood. They tried to climb off the table as quietly as they could, but something snagged their wrists as metal clacked together.

Whumper heard the sound, spinning around as whumpee was frozen almost half-off the table. "Easy, easy now. You just got a lot of stitches." Whumper softly spoke.

Whumpee plummeted into sheer panic. They tried to sit up, but a weight around their chest strapped them down.

"Oh no no no, take a breath, we're almost done." Whumper tried to soothe. They grabbed whumpee by the hip and pulled them back to the center of the table. They tightened the strap around whumpee's chest and gave the binds on their wrists a tug.

"Wh-y ... Why are you do-doing th- ss... Le-let me go-" Whumpee heaved. Whumper touched their forehead as whumpee flinched and squeezed their eyes shut. They hoped when they opened them next, whumper would be gone.

They ended up not being able to open them at all.

.........

.........

Whumpee could barely blink awake. They felt numb.

They were laid on a stretcher in an infirmary; their enemies infirmary, nonetheless. There was a blanket tucked around them as whumpee frantically ripped it off and pulled their shirt up. There were perfect stitches and a well dressed wound on their side. Their right arm had a silver handcuff that bound their wrist to the bed.

Whumpee let out a long, drawn-out sigh. What had they gotten themselves into...

"How do you feel?" A voice asked.

Whumpee looked up; whumper's head was poking out from the side of the divider watching them. Whumpee almost gasped, but managed to clench their jaw instead.

"That's a cute expression. Really though, how do you feel?" Whumper came out and crossed their arms.

"You saved me." Whumpee hissed like an accusation.

"Yes, you're welcome. How do you feel." Whumper repeated more sternly.

"Why would you save me? You ... You of all people. We're enemies. You were supposed to kill me on sight." Whumpee narrowed their eyes.

Whumper sighed and dragged a hand down their face. "You still don't understand..." They sat on the bedside as whumpee tried to jump off, but the handcuff held onto their wrist. "Is that all you think you're worth? Nothing but a sacrificial cattle? A lamb for slaughter?"

"-Yes! Yes I do!" Whumpee shouted over them. "My sacrifice was worth it to me. Because I stayed back, my team is safe now. Safe from you." Whumpee snapped and leaned in. "You lost."

Whumper stared with a raised brow; they were mostly surprised whumpee had the energy to throw a fit.

"You know, you're not the only one they've left behind." Whumper shrugged. Whumpee cocked their head to the side without taking their eyes away.

"Every time we corner your team, one person always gets left behind. It's sad, really. Your team's been getting picked off one by one if you think about it. Was it your turn to die?"

Whumpee swallowed past the pit in their throat. "Look... If you saved me just to get information out of me, then I'm terribly sorry, you've wasted a lot of your time. You know I'm willing to die for them, so either get it over with, or let me go." Whumpee spoke behind clenched teeth.

"Let you go?" Whumper belted out laughing, "My darling little lamb, that would be the same as killing you!" They wiped a tear and put a hand on whumpee's knee.

"What's that supposed to mean." Whumpee swatted their hand off.

"Then let's say I let you go. You go running back to your team, they see you alive, intact and... Well, they'll assume you gave them up." Whumper pulled the blanket back around whumpee and tucked them back in.

"-And then, they'll kill you."

Whumpee's face went blank, both fists clutched the blanket, their eyes didn't cry, but glossed like they wanted to. They wished whumper was playing mind games, but there was truth in it. Their team would assume they were compromised and whumpee was the cause.

"Regardless if I left you or took you, you're dead to them. You wouldn't be welcomed back; would be one of us." Whumper poured a glass of water and nudged it into whumpee's hand. They barely reacted, they were far gone in their own thoughts.

"Now I'll ask you one more time."

"How do you feel?"

[Masterlist] - [Next]

@parasitebunny @starzabove @frog-hat-fa-ggot @morning-star-whump @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog @mommymarichatfurever​  @isita-torrrres @tobiaslut

[whumpetywhumpwhump]

Whumpee refusing to go to the hospital though its increasingly clear they might no longer have a choice. Maybe it's a climbing fever, worsening breathing, a lapse in consciousness, etc. - whumpee's condition is getting dire and caretaker has tried everything. They're both getting scared...

whumpee lies motionless in the bed, breathing shallow and slow. their cheeks are flushed with fever, but the rest of their skin is sallow and pale like caretaker's never seen before.

"whumpee?" caretaker calls gently, stroking their cheek with the pad of a thumb. "sweetheart, can you wake up for me a moment?"

it takes a little longer than expected, but eventually whumpee's eyes slide open half mast. they're dulled with fever. consciousness barely even there.

"there you are." caretaker greets, trying to hide the wobble in their voice. "i'm... i'm worried about you, sweetheart. i think it's time to get you to the hospital."

in the hours and days prior, whumpee met this suggestion with groans and eyerolls and claims that everything is fine. now, though, whumpee only swallows, throat bobbing with nausea, and replies,

"n-no ho-hospitals."

caretaker's heart sinks, the back of their hand drifting from pressing against whumpee's cheeks to pressing against their forehead. "you're... you're really sick, whumpee, i... i don't know what to do."

"s-sorry."

the murmur is so weak it's barely audible, and then whumpee is closing their eyes again, too exhausted apparently to continue in the waking world. caretaker retrieves the thermometer from the bedside table, gently opening whumpee's mouth and slipping it under their tongue.

beep beep beep.

when they retrieve the little device and turn it over to look at the numbers, their stomach lurches.

104.7

"whumpee? sweetheart?"

this time, whumpee doesn't stir. caretaker taps their cheek a couple of times, desperation rising, but still there's nothing. they're unreachable. the illness has progressed too far now.

caretaker shakily retrieves their phone from their pocket with one hand, the other shakily stroking whumpee's hair.

"I'm so sorry, darling. I'm sorry.

but you're too sick. we need help."

[whump-captain]

burdened by blorbo thoughts while i have 0 time to write

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

I love reading kidnapping whump. However, the thing I really enjoy is reading the process of being kidnapped. Like, I enjoy the chase just before whumpee gets dragged away.

I really dislike when the story doesn’t describe how the whumpee gets captured or even “whumpee felt a prick and felt their eyes close”. I feel like a good kidnapping story needs to make my heart sink.. I guess I just like the juicy details 🥰🥰

Just something I wanted to share. Haha

Yes! YES! Honestly all whump is in the details; you just gotta find people that appreciate the same details as you. I 100000% agree that the process of kidnapping is overlooked all too often. 

We need more whumpers that are sadistic during the kidnapping, not just afterwards. Whumpers that like the chase and the power trip that comes with catching whumpee, not just owning them. 

They could make it quick. Stick them with something fast acting, manhandle them into place while the drug kicks in. They'd be done in minutes, no fuss or issue. 

 But what would be the fun in that?

So they don’t. When they finally get ahold on Whumpee, easily pinning their flailing limbs to the side, Whumper only injects them with a half dose. Not enough for them to escape, mind you, but enough for them to think they have a chance.

And then Whumper let’s go. And then they watch.

What does Whumpee do? From the moment the needle enters their body, they’re on a timer. Every beat of their terrified heart is bringing them closer to oblivion, makes the distance between danger and safety seem so much wider. There's nobody to help them, nobody in sight but their attacker. What can they do?

Does Whumpee try to fight back? 

They send an elbow back into Whumper as soon as the arms around them give way, whirling around with angry, terrified eyes. Fear sends their heart pounding as their gaze locks onto Whumper. They see those cunning eyes and lean muscles, see the shine of something metallic in their attacker’s hand.

Wumpee sees the emptiness around them, both vast yet horrible claustrophobic. There’s nowhere to run.

They’re terrified, they’re helpless. And in that moment, anger worms its way into Whumpee’s heart. It’s fueled by panic, a sort of prey rage bred from true helplessness, but it’s enough to spring Whumpee into action. In that moment, they realize the only way out is through Whumper. 

So they rush forward, lashing out like a cornered animal. There’s nothing graceful about their attacks. Each push does more damage to themselves than their target, most kicks don’t even land at all. Every swing is a flailing, pathetic thing, fueled by nothing but blind panic. 

And Whumper isn’t even fighting back. They block each blow with expert precision, not even bothering to restrain Whumpee’s movements. Whumpee’s putting everything, everything into their struggle, and Whumper isn’t even breaking a sweat. There’s no sign of effort or strain in Whumper’s movements, none of the desperate urgency Whumpee feels. There’s only that grin on Whumper’s face, cruel and mocking, like they’re enjoying it

A scream tears its way from Whumpee's throat. It’s full of frustration and terror,  a high pitched whine that comes out like a half sob. They keep fighting, trying to knock down the unmovable wall in front of them. 

But Whumpee can’t keep it up forever. They’re slowing by the second; with each beat of their heart, the sedative is spreading throughout their bloodstream. Each swing is weaker than the last, sloppier. They’re swaying on their feet within minutes, barely standing against the growing static in their mind. They can’t stop the world from tilting around them.

It only sends another wave of terror through Whumpee. They keep pushing. 

But terror can only take them so far. Whumpee’s heart freezes in their chest as Whumper effortlessly grabs one of their weakly swinging fits. They don’t let go. Whumpee pulls, and they don’t let go. They kick and whine, too exhausted to even properly scream, and Whumper’s hold stays firm. Each effort to escape only sends another wave of unnatural exhaustion through their body. 

The sensation of the drug working into their system is suffocating. It forces their pounding heart to slow, smothering their terror under a thick haze, sapping the energy from their limbs. The fear is still there, still overwhelming, but they just can’t react to it anymore. 

Swaying on their feet, all they can do is stare into the triumphant, predatory eyes of their captor.

Finally, they drop. Whumpee’s body tilts forward without their control, slumping into Whumper’s chest. They're caught effortlessly as their legs finally give out, pulled into a half-hug as Whumper supports their weight. Everything in Whumpee tells them to pull away, to bite or scream or anything. But they can't force their body to respond. But they can't form a plan, can't think beyond the haze clouding their mind.

The last thing Whumpee feels as their vision fades is their body being lifted into someone's arms.  They don't have the strength left to fight it.

Or maybe Whumpee runs?

They push away from Whumper the moment they’re free, taking a stumbling step away from their attacker. Before terror can kick in, there’s only surprise, maybe even anger. They turn to face Whumper on instinct, some angry rebuke already on their lips. 

Whatever they’d been about to say died in their throat the moment they look back. Whumper is simply standing there, as if they were waiting for something. There is no explanation in their expression. Not the anger of some scorned lover, not the frustration of a failed mugging. Whumper just stands there. Eyes sharp, eyes focused squarely on Whumpee, ready to strike at any moment. 

There’s something inhuman about it, about the absence if all expression but an animalistic intensity. It calls to something animalistic in Whumpee as well. Something that screams that Whumpee is staring down a predator ready to eat them whole. 

Terror comes to Whumpee slowly, like a pressure laying itself against their chest. As their expression morphs into terror, a grin splits Whumper’s face.

Whumpee’s running before they even realize it. Shoes slamming against the sidewalk, heart pounding in their chest in their mad dash to just get away. They don’t know where they’ll go, don’t know where they’d be safe. But anywhere, anywhere is better than with that monster. 

Their escape is graceless. They run half blind in the darkness, stumbling over obstacles in their mad dash. Tears are streaming from their wide eyes, mouth wide as they pull in desperate lungfuls of air. 

They can’t hear anything beyond their own ragged breathing. They don’t dare slow down, don’t dare turn around. They don’t know if they’d managed to escape or not, and so they keep running. 

The first wave of dizziness hits them like a truck, nearly sending them tumbling to the ground. It feels like the ground is shifting underneath them, tilting side to side like a boat in the ocean. 

They stop, not because they want to, but because they have to if they want to stay upright. Whumpee leans against the nearest wall, taking deep, shuddering breaths in hopes of chasing away the disorientation. 

It doesn’t help. With each inhale, it feels like their vision is growing dimmer, their body growing heavier. It’s not long until Whumpee is resting their full weight against the wall, barely remaining upright. Their attempts to collect their thoughts crumble as their mind wanders. Each wave of dizziness breaks their concentration, and it’s becoming harder by the moment to recollect themselves.

They’re exhausted. It creeps into them like a chill, and now that they’ve stopped moving the feeling is near overwhelming. 

Panic still flows through their mind, demanding that they move. But their body won’t listen. Whumpee’s limbs won’t move despite their fear. Their heartbeat has slowed despite their terror, a relaxed, sedated beating in their chest instead of the panicked drumming from moments before. Whumpee can feel their eyes closing without their consent, and it terrifies them. 

Whumpee can’t stop themselves as their legs give out on them. They fall like dead weight, head smacking against the sidewalk. All they can do is groan, a low pathetic keening that barely manages to creep past their lips. 

The pain is just enough to bring a spark of alertness back to their eyes. Just enough to bring back the memory of their attacker. The look in their eye, the expression that gave away no motivation but malice. The gleeful smile full of a hunger Whumpee couldn’t explain. 

The glint of something sharp and metallic on Whumper’s hands. The sharp pain in Whumpee’s neck seconds before they managed to pull away. 

The revelation makes Whumpee’s throat go dry. And suddenly that pain is the only thing they can feel, a pulsing ache from where they’d been stabbed. No, injected. They’d been drugged, and it’d taken them this long to realize it. 

In that moment, as Whumpee’s eyes finally slip shut, the faintest of smiles crosses their lips. It’s mirthless, almost angry. The broken smile of someone who's just realized all their effort was utterly pointless.

Whumpee’s not awake to hear the sound of even, confident footsteps approaching them. 

It doesn’t really matter what they do. Stay and fight, run and hide, it’s futile.

And that’s the point. The point is the struggle, the desperation that can only exist when there’s a sliver of hope left. Even when that hope is an illusion, even when that hope only exists to be mercilessly crushed.

[whumpshaped]

The whumpee who loves the ASMR instructional videos, who would last 0.8 seconds in a vampire situation, finding themselves in a vampire situation. As they fall under the vampire's spell they start dreamily babbling about how nice it all is, just like their favorite videos, and the vampire decides to take advantage of this, brushing through their hair and touching their face and giving them simple little instructions to follow as the whumpee's mind melts -- until they tell the whumpee to tilt their neck...

-- @oliversrarebooks

tw vampire whumper, hypnosis, mind control

“N-no, no, please, no–” Whumpee desperately pushed against their attacker, trying to gain enough space to run past them, but it was no use. They were panicking worse than they ever had before, sobbing as they were cornered against the wall of an abandoned building. They didn’t think it’d be so dangerous to come out here. They were so stupid. “Please, I can give you my money, please don’t–”

“Shh, quiet now. Don’t make a fuss.”

Whumpee shivered at the gentle voice, half their fight leaving them as suddenly as it’d come. It was like being smacked in the back of the head with a shovel, it almost made them disoriented. “I won’t,” they choked out. “I won’t, so please, p-please don’t hurt me–”

“Still talking… So noisy…” Whumper caught their gaze, and Whumpee’s body went still. They couldn’t look away. The pleas died in their throat before they could’ve had a chance to utter them. “There you go. Nice and quiet. Let’s calm down now, hm?”

Whumpee nodded a little, mouth still slightly agape. Waves of comfort and relaxation washed over them, one after the other, disarming them further with every word. There was a pressure in the back of their head that just kept building, almost like a warm hand keeping them steady.

“That’s it. Keep looking into my eyes. You’re doing an excellent job for me.” Whumper cupped their cheeks, making sure they wouldn’t look away even as it became difficult to hold their head up. “Breathe in… and out. That’s it. So peaceful. So nice and quiet. So relaxed.”

Their eyes fluttered closed against their will, despite their desperate desire to keep looking into those gorgeous eyes. Whumper didn’t scold them for it; they merely kept petting them, their cheeks, their hair… It all felt so unbelievably nice. They barely registered as their head was tilted to the side for them, nor did they make an effort to suppress their content sigh as Whumper nuzzled against their neck.

“You’re doing so well,” Whumper murmured. “So good for me. Just keep breathing. In… and out. Just like that.”

The bite didn’t even hurt. Not when they were so relaxed.

[whumpsoda]

Seeing Me in You - Unboxing

Masterlist

cw: pet whump, box boy universe/bbu adjacent, institutionalized slavery, conditioned/brainwashed whumpee

——————

Ever so anxiously fearful, he had safely arrived to his new home. After so long of training and treatment, he had been prepared to perfection for his purpose. He was going to finally be put to use.

His trip to delivery had proved painful, even if he was used to dealing with common afflictions. Such a tight cage was unfavorable for his hulking frame, and the constant, numerous shakes and bumps of the truck formed noticeable bruises over his skin, and a sour throbbing in his head.

Thankfully, 374629 wasn’t meant to look presentable. Especially not pretty. He knew he wasn’t, having been utterly made sure of it. Not average looking, even, but he was never meant to be. He certainly was not a romantic, nothing anyone would purchase depending on his level of attraction.

Once set to the ground below his master’s doorstep, he made a point not to listen into the muffled conversation mushing together like cotton clouds above him. Reducing it to a buzz in the back of his mind, he kept his brain nice and blank. His belly still whirled in a mixture of terror and excitement to be inches away from his owner, and minutes from finally being introduced to them.

He could clearly hear as the employees transporting him finally left, leaving him alone with his owner. Leaving him to begin his new life.

374629 froze rigid as light began cracking and seeping into his crate, flooding his face with warmth and blinding brightness. On instinct his eyes shut and wound tight, body curling into itself further.

He hoped his master would be a good master. Didn’t everyone? Every master would be good of course, he had to be grateful to have any master at all. He was lucky. Maybe they would be just like his handlers in the facility. He couldn’t help but wish they were. As much as he was in no place to have preferences, he would have liked the familiarity.

But as his master ever so carefully opened his box, revealing more and more of his face, 374629 couldn’t help but on instinct catch a tiny look. And his master was frowning.

It was obvious he was attempting to hide it, lips curling up ever so slightly, almost unnoticeably so. The fake, half smile failed to meet his solemn, moistening eyes that glittered in the light. Not only was he obviously unhappy with his delivery, but his master was crying.

As 374629 turned back away, he could only hope it was his pet’s unsavory predicament that he found so foul.

Covered in his own grime, tears and sweat, boxers shriveled and dirty, his burly figure was contorted every which way inside of his box. His collar wasn’t even a nice leather, rather cheap and itching raw, red marks over his neck.

Maybe his master had never ordered a boxie before. Maybe he didn’t realize his pet would arrive so disheveled.

“S- sorry,” the man sniveled, wiping his eyes with clammy knuckles, “This is just… a lot. More so for you, of course.” 374629 could sense the slightest of a soft smile in his voice, pulsing warmth through his pet’s butterfly-filled belly. 

374629 didn’t know if he was meant to respond. He knew his rules well, repeating one specifically like a mantra in his mind. Do not speak unless spoken to, he told himself, over and over again like the handlers had. But he’d never had someone, let alone a person, apologize to him. Apologize! How could he possibly know what to do?

“Ye- yes, sir.” He squeaked out, meek and shaky. He winced, expecting a quick and burning shock to the throat for his misbehavior - hesitating and stuttering - but, while no longer wearing his training collar, such a punishment never came. 

Eyes peeking open once again, 374629 fixated his vision on the wood paneling of his crate. Pets are never allowed to look their master in the face, he told himself, both reminding him of the rules and silently chastising himself for having the urge to do so a second time. He hoped his owner had noticed his previous mistake of doing so, so that he could receive needed discipline for such unacceptable behavior.

“Hmmm… how about we get you up and out of your box, okay?” His master commanded, although spoken strangely. As if it wasn’t a command, rather a question, but 374629 knew very well that it was. Commands were one thing he was good at knowing. “Unless you feel more comfortable in there, then-,”

Before his master could continue, 374629 swiftly and clumsily stumbled from the confines of his box, plopping to his knees beside it. Again he fixed his gaze somewhere beside his master, this time the concrete floor of the hallway, as much as he wished he could look to the man for approval.

“Oh.” 

The pet tensed. Did he do something wrong? He failed to discern an emotion from his master’s lack thereof, causing his stomach to quease with uneasiness. 

“That’s okay. That’s good, yeah.” The pet could have sighed in relief. “Now, can I ask you a question?”

374629 tensed once again. Another question. He was so terribly confused. Why was his master asking him? Permission, even? It had to be a trick. A test, to see how well he’d been trained, an easy on at that. 

“A master does anything they so desire.” He neatly recited, a smile nearly tugging at his lips. 

He was being such a good boy. Back at training he would have received a quick and concise good by his handler, and the thought of praise, no matter how little and insignificant, could have him practically drooling.

For a moment, his master paused.

“I guess I should’ve expected that.” He whispered, more so to himself than his pet. His tone almost shone disappointment to his words, a realization that could have brought rich bile flooding his pet’s mouth. “I just wanna know, um, what’s your designation?”

He didn’t even need to think to formulate a reply. “WRU, facility 034, Guard Dog 374629.” He recited on the instant, words rolling off his tongue with perfected memorization. His designation was beat to memory, coming completely and entirely natural to him. In the whole interaction, that was one thing he was sure of.

He heard his master swallow, thick with saliva that danced down his throat. “Guard dog?”

“Yes, sir.” He responded, without falter, and utilizing his deep, low chords.

“Me too.”

——————

Masterlist

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