#vampire whumper

[whumpsoda]

i raise you, a vampire that always keeps their thrall in a sleepy/blissful state cause they think it’s endearing. especially since the thrall was previously a ball of anxiety that couldn’t relax whatsoever before the vampire intervened

WOHEO Masterlist

God, yes!! This is so good, thank you!!

cw: vampire whumper, human whumpee, hypnosis

———————————————————————

“How did you…?” the vampire watched as Malak clung to the couch, desperate to keep himself from toppling over. 

“I- please- I don’t-” the human’s eyes widened, his breath becoming frantic and short as he attempted to speak. His lip quivered, matching the tremble of his pale hands. 

Malak’s head throbbed, discombobulated and out of order from the whirlwind consuming him. It was as if he’d been pulled from a trance of heavenly paradise, suddenly unraveling the strings of his brain. Somehow, someway he couldn’t seem to grasp, he’d escaped the clutches of a mind-bending monster, one out to steal his autonomy to the highest degree.

Overwhelmed with the only urge to escape, one that had been weakened by the vampire’s strength, he had done his very best to obey. Fighting against his strangely heavy and uncoordinated body, he had tried so hard. A voice pounded in his head, screaming at him to liberate himself. 

Adrastus took a step forward, their hands held out to the other man in a comforting manner. “Darling, what happened?” Immediately, Malak attempted to run, instead slipping on his own feet, his legs far cumbersome to operate successfully.

Hitting the chill, wood flooring, an unfamiliar strike of pain cut through him. A whimper escaped his salty lips, wet from tears previously cascading down his red cheeks. In the blink of an eye, a pair of perfectly polished boots appeared level with his gaze.

He squealed, attempting to escape again, unsuccessfully. The sleepy weight of his body allowed for little movement, and thus he was easily captured by the monster. Inhumanly strong arms wrapped around his abdomen, lifting Malak into the arms of the vampire with a huff.

He desperately attempted to thrash in their hold, to no avail. While much too disoriented to resist successfully, Adrastus giggled at their discomfort. “It’s alright darling, I’m here now.” They soothed, inciting only more wiggling. They casually made their way around the couch, unbothered by the struggling man in their arms. 

Malak’s head spun, the concoction of anxiousness and panic twisting in his stomach. A jumble of thoughts overwhelmed him, incomprehensibly spiraling in his brain. He sputtered unintelligibly, coherent words melting on his tongue.

Adrastus plopped onto one cushion, gently sitting Malak on their lap. Before allowing the human a chance to make any move, no matter how feeble, they softly trailed a calming hand from Malak’s forehead, down to his chin, silencing their human immediately. “Hush, sweetie. No need to worry, I’ll fix you up, easy peasy.” They flashed the human a fang-filled smile.

Instantly, Malak’s brain liquified into a pile of goop. The whirlwind of awareness ceased, leaving only the commanding touch of the vampire. 

Adrastus slipped their hand from Malak’s back, gingerly draping him across their own lap. A wave of pleasure washed over him, settling and returning with each motion of Adrastus’ nimble fingers combing through his hair, lightly scratching at the surface of his scalp. With each repeat, the cloud in his mind only grew foggier, hazed with overwhelming bliss.

Drowsily, Malak adjusted his position, shifting his head to lay on Adrastus’ slender legs. “All better now, right?” In return, they merely received the slightest of a nod. 

“I’m so glad. I mean, I’m shocked as well!” Adrastus pinched at their human’s cheek sweetly. “How could such a feeble little mind like yours escape my power? I haven’t seen you remotely lucid in months!” they exclaimed.

The words simply flew right over Malak’s head, too enraptured in the urge to sleep to pay much attention. Absentmindedly, he grunted, and nuzzled closer into the lush fabric of the vampire’s sweater, basking in the warmth. “So sluggish, aren’t you? Just a sleepy little boy. A good little thrall.” They let out a light chuckle, continuing to pet their thrall to unconsciousness.

“My sleepy little boy, my good little thrall.” Malak’s heart practically soared at the praise. To his delight, Adrastus pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “You’re just adorable, all dazed and disoriented. I wouldn’t prefer my thrall any other way.”

“I mean, you enjoy it too don’t you? I can’t imagine how it must have felt escaping from such a long period of mindless bliss. Snapping into awareness must have been so terrifying.” Pouting, Adrastus delicately swiped away the last slick tear from Malak’s red cheeks. “That’s why you can’t let that happen again, alright? I couldn’t imagine what you did to allow your consciousness so close to the surface, but surely you’ve learned your lesson now?”

Malak nodded eagerly, shaken over the idea of displeasing the vampire. “Such confusing emotions of fear and distress just aren’t fit for a thrall as cute as you!” A wide, dull-eyed smile couldn’t help but spread across the human’s face. 

“Must’ve just been all that anxiousness stirring inside that tummy of yours. I'll be sure to arrange that a similar situation does not arise again.” The assurance was comforting, yet Malak couldn’t help but sense a slight anguish stirring inside him.

[unforgivenn]

Whumpee's breath came in shallow gasps, their pulse quickening with each beat as Whumper's fangs sank deeper into their shoulder, eliciting a small cry of pain.

"Do you feel that?" Whumper's voice slithered like a serpent in the darkness, sending icy tendrils of fear snaking along Whumpee's spine. "That's the fear coursing through your veins..."

Whumper leaned in closer, his cold breath ghosting over Whumpee's ear, sending shivers down their spine. "It's absolutely delicious..." His voice dripped with sinister delight as he flashed his blood-stained teeth, relishing in the terror reflected in Whumpee's wide eyes.

Whumpee's fingers twitched trying to push Whumper away. With each sip of blood, Whumper chuckled softly, savoring the way Whumpee's struggles grew weaker, their attempts to push him away faltering.

Eventually, their struggles slowed to a halt, their head slumping against Whumper's shoulder. Whumper's lips curled into a twisted smirk seeing this. He gently brushed a lock of hair from their face, his voice a low whisper.

"Sleep well my dear.. You may have fallen but your nightmares are just beginning.."

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

Whumpuary 2024 Day 6

6. (Jan 11-12) Exhaustion / Blindfolded / Old Injuries  

cw reluctant whumper, exhaustion, blood loss, vampire whumper, human whumpee, scars, intimate whumper 

Whumpee stood in front of the mirror, head tilted to the side as their fingers traced the bite marks going down their neck. They were in various stages of healing—some had faded to white scars, others were bruised and scabbing, and the most recent one was still an aggravated red. If Whumpee scratched at it, it would start bleeding again easily. 

“You okay?” 

They glanced up quickly. “I didn’t hear you come in.” 

Whumper shrugged, eyes locking with theirs in the mirror. “Perks of being a creature of the night, I suppose. Very sneaky.” 

“Right,” Whumpee said with a chuckle. 

A moment of silence passed, with both of their gazes drifting to Whumpee’s neck. Most of the marks were concentrated there, but others were hidden by Whumpee’s clothes. Their wrists, the inside of their elbow, their thighs. 

“You look tired,” Whumper pointed out. 

“I’m fine.” The constant blood loss left them exhausted and perpetually dizzy, but it really was fine. Whumper worried too much. 

They frowned, closing the distance between them and Whumpee. Whumper kissed their neck gently, lips fitting over one of the older bites. “I wish they didn’t scar so much.” 

“I don’t mind,” Whumpee muttered. “I like the reminders of you. Knowing that I can give you what you need, instead of letting you worry about where your next meal is coming from. Or hurting someone who doesn’t want this.” 

Whumper nodded slightly, eyes meeting theirs in the mirror. “We can’t keep doing this forever, though. Someday I'm gonna take too much, and then I don’t know what I'd do with myself.” 

Whumpee took in their own reflection—the pallid skin, distant eyes and dark circles, thin frame—and wondered if that day was very far in the future.  

[painsandconfusion]

“I’m going to bite down riiiight…..here. Sink my fangs into you and suck down the blood as your little heart goes wild~”

“Fuck- Yes please.”

“……what-?”

“Yes - I want to be inside you forever - make me part of you, please-“

“…..okay yeah now you made it weird. Bye. ……..- no-???? Don’t follow me????”

[oliversrarebooks]

walk home late at night

Masterlist

TW: mind control, hypnotic induction, blood drinking, nothing explicit but it's pretty horny

You're walking home from work late at night. You had to work overtime yet again, because your shitty boss forced a shitty deadline on you, and it's either work late or risk another bad performance review. Unfortunately, your need to make rent has to be prioritized over your need to sleep -- or else you won't have any more place to sleep.

The night is foggy and wet, almost like out of a suspense film, but you're too tired to indulge in much imagination. It's making your clothes and shoes damp and cold, which you do not appreciate in the slightest. At least you're not far, now. Only a few blocks.

As you pass under a flickering street lamp, you see the dark outline of a person in the space between buildings, and it startles you a bit. Probably nothing to worry about, probably just a loiterer or a homeless person. You're just jumpy because you're tired. You keep walking.

"Excuse me, dear."

The voice behind you is ethereal, neither male nor female, and almost seems to echo. It must be that person you passed a minute ago. A robber? Shit. You walk faster.

"Stop."

You stop. 

Your mind reels as it tries to catch up with what you've just done. Why did you stop? This is clearly bad news.

"Please face me while I'm addressing you, dear."

You're turning around. Just to see who this person is and what they want, since clearly they aren't leaving you alone. Yes, that is the reason. "Who are you?"

"Silent, dear. Still and silent for me."

"I --" Your words die in your throat. Your muscles relax, like sliding into a warm bath. What's happening to you? It feels like a dream.

"Oh, dear," says the mysterious figure with a soft chuckle. "It seems you've already fallen under my power." They raise one hand and flutter their fingers downward, like rain, and your eyes follow. "Under my power. Deep, deep under my power."

It's like... your mind... shifts downwards. It feels so nice. But this isn't right. You have to get away from here -- you have to flee --

"So still, dear, so silent. Your limbs so heavy. Falling down, down, down." They flutter their fingers back and forth, and you feel yourself swaying along with it. "That's a lovely pet."

You're -- you're not a pet. You need to leave. But it's like your mind has disconnected from your body, and your body feels far too relaxed, like you've been hit with a tranquilizer. Tranquilized, yes, that's exactly how it feels.

"Come closer now, dear." With both hands, they beckon you closer. You take one step, then two, sleepwalking forward. "Closer and deeper under my power. Closer and deeper. Deeper and closer."

You can feel it. With every clumsy, sleepwalking step, your mind is draining away, your thoughts of escaping growing further and fuzzier. Distantly, you know that something bad will happen when you're in this strange person's clutches, but you can't stop yourself.

"Deeper under my power," says the echoing voice. You're so close now, in arm's reach, and the figure cups their hand under your chin and draws you in the rest of the way. Their touch feels electric, making you shiver with pleasure. 

"That's a most excellent pet. Good, good pet," they praise, and the warmth of the praise spreads through your body. The thoughts of wrong, wrong, wrong are dimming as they pet your head as though you are a puppy.

Their fingers lift your chin, and you find yourself gazing into their deep, dark eyes. You can almost see stars in them, swirling and dancing, so beautiful. "That's right, dear pet. I need you to look into my eyes, now. Look deep, deep into my eyes," they say. "You're going to start to fall into a hypnotic trance for me. Deep, deep into trance."

Hypnotic... trance... there's a brief struggle in your mind.

"Yes, dear, you're being hypnotized. You're already starting to get sleepy, so very sleepy. Getting so sleepy as you look deep into my eyes, so sleepy as I sink you into hypnosis. So, so sleepy."

The sleepy, drowsy feelings are overwhelming. You can't think any more. You feel your body slumping, and they catch you in their arms and hold you upright so you can keep staring into those eyes. So hypnotized... so sleepy...

"Keep gazing into my eyes, dear. You're getting so, so sleepy. It's time for foolish little pets like you to go to sleep and surrender to me. Go to sleep, dear, a deep, hypnotic sleep. You're so, so drowsy. So hypnotized. Practically asleep already." Their eyes seem to get even closer and brighter. "Far too sleepy to resist, dear, too drowsy to fight it. All you can do is look into my eyes, let yourself be hypnotized, and go to sleep, deep, sweet sleep."

They're right. You're far too sleepy to stop this from happening. You're already so hypnotized, and they're so, so powerful.

"Your eyes want to shut, don't they, my pet? Yes, of course they do. They crave sleep so badly. Your mind desires sleep. Your mind wants to be hypnotized, wants to lower all its defenses and just relax. Yes, relax your mind for me, dear, let me soothe it to sleep. Your eyelids are drooping, pet. They're closing. You're losing control. You're surrendering. You're surrendering to sleep and to hypnosis, more sleepy and hypnotized by the minute. Isn't that right?"

Your head bobs forward, nodding in response to your master's question.

"Good pet, good, good pet. Let me put you to sleep now, dear. You're going to go to sleep and surrender your hypnotized mind to me. It's only right for a foolish little pet like you, so utterly helpless. Go to sleep, dear. No more fighting your heavy eyelids. No more resisting your drowsy mind. You can't stay awake any longer."

Your vision blurs, your eyelids almost closed. The urge to give in and sleep is so powerful. You can't even remember why you were trying to stay awake.

"Sleep, my pet. Sleep and surrender. Sleep and submit. Sleep and be hypnotized." Their voice goes lower. "I'll take such good care of you while you sleep."

A soft, quiet noise escapes your lips as you fall forward into the mysterious figure's arms, head resting on their shoulder, fast asleep. Their hand rubs your back in a slow circle.

"Good, good, my pet, my thrall. Sleep so deep in hypnotic trance. You won't remember any of this, my dear. You won't remember a thing. You're going to sleep and forget... sleep and submit... sleep and let down every defense while I feed."

Your sleeping, defenseless mind absorbs the commands to forget. In your trance state, you can feel cold fingers tilt your head and run down your neck. 

"You will submit," says the echoing voice at your ear. "You will remain completely asleep and completely hypnotized while I drink my fill from you. There will be no pain, only sleep and submission. Do you understand, my dear thrall?"

"Yes... master..." you whisper.

"Very good," they purr. "Now relax and be especially still. Good pet."

Your breath catches in your throat as you feel sharp fangs at your neck. Despite what your master just said, there is a brief moment of pain, followed by a strange warm sensation as they begin to drink from the punctures on your neck. You can feel yourself bleeding, feel their tongue and their fangs as they lap at your precious blood, feel yourself surrendering utterly.

The warmth from the wound is spreading through your body, and when it hits your brain, there's a wash of intense bliss that makes you shiver and release a low moan, a small part of your mind embarrassed as you fall apart to the sensation. Your master chuckles. "Enjoying yourself, my thrall?"

"Yes, master," you respond immediately.

"Very good, pet, you're so hypnotized and submissive for me, aren't you?" They lick at the wound on your neck. "Perhaps I'll keep you, after all. Do you want to be kept? Do you want to go home with me?"

You know the right answer. "Yes, master."

"If you insist, my hypnotized and helpless little thrall." They nurse the wounds for another moment, before whispering once more in your ear. "Go deeper asleep now. Do not resist the hypnosis. You belong to me."

There's nothing left in you to resist. Your body goes limp and lifeless as your master picks you up in a princess carry, the cool evening breeze on your face as they whisk you off to god knows where.

Masterlist

[the-broken-pen]

“Do you know,” the vampire hummed in their ear, “how young you look right now?”

The protagonist choked on their gag, eyes glaring up at the vampire.

“Like a lamb to the slaughter,” they continued, trailing a finger through the protagonist’s sweat soaked hair. “Did they tell you what you were getting into?”

No, the protagonist thought, they hadn’t. The agency had needed someone to distract— someone new to the battlefield that the vampire wouldn’t recognize, with their memory as sharp as knives and their penchant for removing displeasing individuals from amongst the living.

And so of course, that meant the protagonist, fresh out of training, newly recruited, the littlest sibling of a sacrificial hero long since revered.

Big shoes to fill.

A solemn and silent grave to impress.

If the protagonist could have, they would have cursed the vampire out, but they supposed that would only make things worse.

Still, being in the room with the murderer of their big brother, the person who had left the hero of the city bleeding out in a place so hidden that by the time the protagonist found them—

Well.

They had a grave to impress.

The vampire caught their chin, tilting their head up.

“Little lamb, you look quite like my favorite enemy. Truly, the resemblance is uncanny,” their hand tightened on the protagonists jaw. “Say, our blessed hero didn’t happen to have a mini me, did they?”

The protagonist’s teeth clenched and they snarled through the gag.

The vampire grinned, delighted.

“Oh, how wonderful. It’s a pleasure to meet you, lamb.”

The protagonist simply blinked. The vampire clicked their tongue, as if disappointed. A moment later, the tip of their finger slid across the protagonist’s gag and it disintegrated.

The protagonist spit dust onto the floor, mouth dry with leftover cloth, before baring their teeth at the vampire.

“You piece of undying shit—“

The vampire slide an amused smile their way.

“The mouth on you. Yes, you really do look like them, don’t you? The resemblance is startling.”

“I’ll show you just how startling I can be if you untie these bonds.”

Behind their back, the protagonists fingers were numb. If they tried to punch, they doubted it would be successful. No need for the vampire to know that.

“Such rage for such a young individual. Tell me, little lamb, why do you want me dead?”

The protagonist closed their mouth that had been prepared to spit more venomous words, and swallowed thickly.

“I don’t want you dead—“

“Oh darling,” the vampire waved a hand. “Of course you do. It’s quite villainous of you, but I’m not one to judge morality.”

The protagonist bit the inside of their cheek, examining the edges of the concrete room, if only to avoid meeting the vampires all seeing gaze.

“Is this about your brother?” The vampire guessed casually, like hearing the vampire reference them didn’t stop the protagonist’s heart.

Their stomach clenched.

The vampire’s eyebrows eased in understanding.

“Ah. Well, then. I suppose I understand the sentiment. Nothing I can do about it, however. Bygones, they say.”

The protagonist lurched forward in their chair.

“He isn’t a bygone, he was my brother, and you murdered him—“

The vampire tutted, hand sliding over the protagonists mouth with impossible speed.

“Now, then, don’t say such atrocious things.”

The protagonist bit the inside of the vampires palm, and they raised an eyebrow. Their too cool palm didn’t move, smooth skin resting above the protagonists jaw.

“I did not murder your brother,” the vampire said after a tense moment. The protagonist glared at them.

Of course they had. The protagonist wasn’t stupid, they had seen the injuries on their brother. They had held him, in his final moments, terrified and shaking as their hands tried to cover too many wounds at once.

And then their brother had been dead and their hands had been covered in blood and all the protagonist could think was “It was the vampire.”

The vampire nodded as if they could read the protagonist’s face.

“Some things you are not meant to know,” the vampire murmured. “But I will tell you this—I did not kill your brother.”

They protested against the vampire’s palm, and the hand gripped tighter. For a moment, the protagonist remembered the terrifying strength hidden under that lovely face.

“I understand you are grieving. But I am not responsible for what happened. I am only responsible for what came next.”

They turned confused eyes on the vampire, and the vampire released them, studying the protagonist for a second before striding to the door.

The paused with a hand on the door knob.

“By the way, little lamb. Your brother isn’t alive,” the vampire’s voice rang into the room. “But he is living.”

The door slammed shut.

And the protagonist was left with the horrible realization that maybe when their brother had died, the vampire had done far worse than kill him—maybe the vampire had brought him back.

The protagonist started screaming for the vampire to come back.

Hours later, when they were rescued, the agency asked them what they had learned.

Stonily, faithfully, they looked their supervisor dead in the eye.

And said nothing.

[redd956]

Mini Whump Prompt 118

Vampiric Caretaker has had enough of their fellow vampire's treatments of whumpee, and went out of their way to rescue them. Now to get them properly recovered and sent back to safely human territories.

They thought it would be simple. Sure! Whumpee was quite the odd human, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary... until they walked in on whumpee one day and the human proceeded to pull on the collar of their shirt until the neck and collarbone were fully exposed.

"What are you doing?", Caretaker couldn't contain their confusion.

"Offering you to feed.", They explained so nonchalantly, growing nervous at Caretaker's silence, "You've been so good to me, and I never see you feed. I thought- I thought that you might want- as a thanks of course."

"What the fu-"

[whitehairandblood]

Whumpee stands in the kitchen, barefoot. Their long hair splays over their shoulders and down their back, falling into their face. They don't bother to tie it up.

It's longer than they're used to. They never let it grow out this much before Whumper captured them. It's unruly, hard to take care of and maintain, and way too much trouble than it's worth. Whumper has expressed their dislike for it several times already, but they haven't made an attempt at cutting it yet. It seems they're allowing at least this small piece of Whumpee to remain untouched.

It's not like Whumpee would even let them cut it. There's not a lot they're willing to fight over anymore, but as ridiculous as it makes them feel, Whumpee knows their hair remains one of those things. The last piece of themself that remains theirs alone.

They busy themself with preparing breakfast- or, rather, dinner. Whumper's nocturnal lifestyle forces Whumpee to stay awake during the night and sleep in the day just as Whumper does, every aspect of their new life catered to their captor. Whumpee can't remember the last time they'd seen the sun, other than those few precious times Whumper let them watch the sunrise before bed- or the sunset, if Whumpee managed to get up early enough.

This is one of those rare occasions. Whumper was still sound asleep when Whumpee left the room, heading straight for the kitchen. Whumper allowed them free reign of their stupid big house, apparently entirely confident that Whumpee couldn't even find their way out, let alone escape.

Making food remains another one of those things Whumpee has yet to lose control over. The thought of Whumper, almighty and powerful, being incapable of making even a grilled cheese sandwich to keep Whumpee alive never ceases to amuse them. It makes him feel a little bit more human, even if Whumpee knows otherwise.

The sunlight that previously illuminated the kitchen grows weaker by the minute. Whumpee shudders when the air grows colder, suddenly regretting not putting on socks before they left the bedroom.

Another shiver runs up their spine at the thought of that wretched room. Bedtime always comes with a sort of silent dread, one that eats Whumpee up from the inside as the days go on. Whumper always draws the blackout curtains before the Sun could even begin to rise, and Whumpee has begun to dread each and every morning. How ironic, to hate the very thing they yearn for.

Their thoughts come to a screeching halt, their hands stilling when they feel a presence behind them. Their breathing stutters for a moment before they force it to go back to normal. They keep their head lowered, allowing the long curtain of hair to shield their face from Whumper's view.

Whumper's cold hand settles on their shoulder, slowly moving up the side of their neck. Their fingers trace over the raised web of scar tissue, pausing to push gently on the twin puncture marks at the very center. Whumpee supresses a wince.

"How many times do I have to tell you," Whumper murmurs, leaning close to Whumpee's ear, "to keep your hair out of my way?"

Whumpee's hands grip the counter's edge, shoulders raising.

"I hate it when you do that."

Whumper chuckles. Their hand moves further up, fingers running through the hair at the nape of Whumpee's neck.

"Do what?"

"Sneak up behind me. You know I hate it."

"And I hate it when you ignore my questions."

They're forced to press their hips into the edge of the counter as Whumper crowds close. Whumpee flinches when a hand appears in the corner of their eye, but then it moves fully into view, and Whumpee sucks in a breath.

Whumper's offer of the hairtie feels entirely too casual. Too innocent.

"Tie it up."

Whumpee hesitates.

"I-I'm.. Whumper, I'm making breakfast. Just give me a minute. I haven't eaten anything today."

Whumper's hand on the back of their neck tightens, and this time, Whumpee can't hold back the wince it elicits.

"Neither have I. Tie it up."

Whumpee dips their head. Their grip on the counter's edge turns white-knuckled.

"Please.." they whisper, half hoping Whumper wouldn't hear. "Just give me a damn minute."

Whumper's breath ghosts against their neck as they laugh.

"My, my. Got up on the wrong side of the bed, did you?"

Whumper's hand buries itself into the hair at the nape of Whumpee's neck, tugging hard to wrench their head back. Whumpee hisses, grabbing around blindly until their hand finds Whumper's wrist. They can see Whumper's grin from the corner of their eye.

"You don't get to make requests, Hunter." Whumper hisses into their ear, "Not anymore. Not when you pointed that gun at me, and especially not now. Seems like you need a reminder of where, exactly, you belong."

Whumpee grits their teeth, squeezing their eyes shut against the tears that threaten to fall. Their scalp feels like it's on fire, every nerve screaming at them to relieve the pressure before Whumper could rip their hair clean out. Their hands scrabble at Whumper's own.

"Fuck! Whumper, don't! Not yet, please not yet, I'm sorry, please just wait- ARGH!"

Sharp teeth slice into Whumpee's neck without warning. Their hands claw at Whumper's desperately, tears sliding down their face as the pain blossoms in their neck into something unbearable. Their breathing grows frantic. Whumper's lips are cold against their skin, and Whumpee tries their best to ignore the sickening feeling of their blood leaving their body.

Whumpee's hands start to tremble. One of them falls down to grip the counter again when a wave of dizziness washes over them. Their voice comes out breathier than they would have liked.

"Whumper, please. Th-that's enough.."

Whumper pulls away for only a moment, murmuring into Whumpee's skin to "Stay quiet" before biting down again, rougher this time. Whumpee strangles a whine in their throat.

They lose track of time after that. They come to when Whumper's teeth suddenly dislodge from their neck, Whumpee nearly falling over when Whumper's grasp on their hair disappears. They raise a shaking hand to their neck to try and stop the bloodflow, fighting the creeping nausea that makes their world spin.

Something small and light lands on the counter next to their hand. Whumpee's eyes drift slowly over to the hairtie, a scowl appearing on their face.

Whumper's hand lands on top of their head, fingers running through the strands. Whumpee shivers at the sensation.

"Pull something like this again and I might just cut it all off for you."

Whumpee shuts their eyes, slumping onto the countertop. They don't fight Whumper's touch as their eyes begin to slip closed.

"... I hate you."

[whumpsoda]

I raise that anon who raised you.

Vampire keeps their thrall hypnotized so they do all the chores without making a fuss and so they don't accidentally hurt themselves bruising or spilling any of their precious blood.

Whumpee breaks out of it randomly by something silly like a sneeze and comes back to hella confusing circumstances.

WOHEO Masterlist

Love this sm. Kinda mad cause I wrote all of it and then realized I was originally gonna go in a very different direction😭

cw: hypnosis, dehumanization, vampire whumper, human whumpee

———————————————————————

Nevan smiled contentedly to himself as a pile of dust flew into the pan. The broom, brittle and old scratched against the hardwood flooring of the mansion. Satisfied, he carefully poured the dust pan’s contents into a nearby trash can.

He had almost done all of the cleaning for the abode, the only room left being one of the many dedicated for storage. Nevan always felt exceedingly proud of himself for fulfilling his sanitation duties so well, even if there wasn’t much to clean when he repeated the same tasks every single day.

Darius liked his home spotless, and Nevan was more than happy to oblige to the wills of his master. Cleaning was the one thing he was notably good at, subsequently making it his sole job in Darius’ home. Besides being a food source, of course.

Transferring to the next room to be cleaned, Nevan was giddy with the thought of receiving his promised reward. 

Cleaning was his purpose, his sole job in life, so there was really no need for a reward. Yet, Darius was so kind hearted and generous, that he always promised his thrall a reward for his work. Whether it be presenting him with another place to cleanse or an extra feeding for that week, Nevan was over the moon simply with knowing he had pleased the vampire.

Nevan studied the mess he was presented with. The storage rooms were always a bit arduous to take care of, mainly due to the overwhelming clutter that had formed over centuries. 

He began with a smaller brush, sweeping the tops of boxes and junk. Before he knew it, whatever dirt inhabited the room had unsurprisingly mixed with the air, floating into and itching at his nostrils. 

He leaned his head back, readying himself for a sneeze.

Seering pain sliced through his brain as his body forcibly doubled over, almost as if splitting his head in half. Nevan clutched his head desperately, stumbling and slipping over his feet. He pulled frantically at his hair, the agony spreading to his scalp as well.

The human dropped onto sore knees, expelling a distraught whine. He panted heavily, attempting to settle himself. 

Luckily, after an endless repetition of deep, calming breaths, the pain subsided into a faint throb. Nevan groaned, rubbing at his tear prickled eyes. Out of reach thoughts danced inside his mind, too rapid to be coherent.

Holding his head in one hand, he forced open his soggy eyes. Gazing down at his own lap, confusion began to settle in.

How did-? Why was he…? Cleaning supplies?

Clutching the short broom in his hand, he noticed what was under it. “What?” He groaned, grabbing at the fabric covering his lower body. Whatever it was, it was large, frilly, and itchy, a terrible combination.

Nevan felt around, pressing his palms to the floor and pushing himself onto wobbly legs. He clung to a tall stack of cardboard boxes, his knees buckling. He took in the room, filled to the brim with piled up rubbish. 

Particularly, Nevan’s gaze landed on a long, thin mirror several feet away. He shuddered, digesting the image of the figure reflected. 

It was him. The reflection held Nevan’s eyes, Nevan’s moles, Nevan’s nose, yet they looked so different. Like a failed clone. His hair was lengthy with a healthy shine, his face and body meticulously clean shaven, and he wore a grand, luxurious dress. 

Worrying of all, were the achining wounds in his neck. Red, oozing and sore, Nevan gaped at the sight.

It couldn’t be him. Nevan didn’t do those things. He kept his hair short and easily manageable, he never gave a second thought to body and facial hair, and he sure as hell had never been very comfortable in a dress. He began grabbing at the excessive tool covering his thighs, trying to ease the irritation on his skin.

Once again, the burning sensation returned full force, tearing apart his brain in a wave of remembrance. 

Fear settled over him, a whimper catching in his throat. He was in a vampire’s home. Caught in a web of mind-bending magic, and by some miracle had broken through. His breathing quickened, short and frantic. 

What would he do? What could he do? If he got caught, there wasn’t a chance he’d ever get the opportunity to escape again. Maybe the monster would be so angry, they’d kill him.

“Nevan? Are you almost finished with your chores?” His heart stopped. Nevan lifted a trembling hand to his mouth, pushing his back against the objects behind him. “Where are you?” They called. 

Nevan slid down the boxed, landing on his bottom. Darius was close. Too close. If he tried to leave now, he would surely be caught, but the same was ensured if he didn’t.

Footsteps picked up, the clicking sound of Darius’ heels growing closer. “There you are.” Carefully, Nevan turned his head to face the beast, meeting a wicked grin. “Are you ready for your reward? I’m especially hungry today.” They said, adjusting the collar of their jacket.

Nevan let out a whimper and a snivel, alarms blaring inside his head. The vampire paused, studying him, his smile contorting into a confused frown. “What’s wrong? What did you do? You shouldn’t look like that.” 

Darius reached their hand out, taking several steps toward the human. Instinctively, Nevan hysterically crawled in the opposite direction, knocking over a pile of random contents. 

Darius met the other man’s stare, his eyes just as wide-eyed as Nevan. Slowly, as if faced with a wild animal, he descended to the floor, resting one knee to the ground. As the human continued to make a mess, Darius reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a glistening little item between two fingers.

Nevan recognized it instantly, squealing with terror as he violently shook his head. “Please! Don’t, please, I can’t-!” Ignoring the human’s pleads, Darius lightly began ringing the tiny bell in his hand. 

The ringing, no matter how light, how delicate, held a commanding, unexplainable presence. Betrayed by his own body, Nevan was unable to cover his ears as means of blocking the noise. The sound was soft, almost musical, causing Nevan’s terrified heart to flutter against his will.

“Come here, little servant.” The vampire sang. He began to lean into the constant ringing, as well as the glossy voice of his owner. “That’s right, return back to master.” Darius beckoned him over, settling onto both knees comfortably. 

The matter of his mind was melting, replaced with the weight of the bell’s authority. Lazily, the terrified shake if his body liquefying, Nevan shifted onto his hands and knees. Mesmerized by the sound licking his ears, he clumsily crawled closer, to Darius’ satisfaction.

“Good boy, almost there. Nothing is more important than the bell, isn’t that right?” The movement of the object never ceased. 

He smiled. That was right. It was Nevan’s bell, captivating and alluring. The only thing possibly more significant was Darius.

He soon reached the vampire, resting onto his knees with glazed over eyes. Darius gently placed the bell to the floor, ending the loop of hypnotic noise. He tenderly cupped Nevan’s cheek, caressing it with his thumb.

The vampire took a moment to adjust Nevan’s body, picking up limbs and turning his face as if he was searching for something. After a moment, he let out a sigh of relief. “I would’ve been very upset if you managed to lose some of your delectable blood in all that panic. Fortunate for you, it seems you didn’t.”

Nevan would’ve been utterly distraught had he made such a mistake. What a terrible thrall he was even risking it. “Now, are you ready for your reward?” He nuzzled into his master’s comforting touch.

In no other universe could he have been more ready.

[whumpninja]

Ask Me About…Vampire Whump!

That’s right, the first ask game in this project is for you, Fang Gang! (I’ve accepted using that name for vampire whump creators.) Since vampire whump takes so many different forms, I’ve split the twenty questions in this ask game into different categories. So no matter what type you write, there’ll be questions that match your characters! Stick to one section, or mix them up- whatever fits your OCs best!

I’m accepting suggestions for next week’s ask game genre, and soon the “order form” for custom ask games will be up! Hope it isn’t a pain in the neck waiting a bit longer, but while you do, sink your fangs into these delicious questions!

Warning: these are whumpy questions, so they involve some dark content! Blood, death, et cetera.

Taglist: @sleepyiswhumping

QUESTIONS FOR A VAMPIRE WHUMPER

🦟- what’s your favorite blood type?

🍷- how does your thrall/bloodbag/juicebox’s blood taste?

⏳- what is it like being so powerful and/or immortal?

🩸- what do you think of humans?

🦇- do you have any remorse?

QUESTIONS FOR A VAMPIRE WHUMPEE

🫗- do you still get to drink blood?

🧛🏻‍♂️- what was your life like before this?

🕸️- are you a monster?

☀️- what’s the worst thing that’s been done to you?

🌙- what would you do first if you could escape?

QUESTIONS FOR A VAMPIRE HUNTER

🧄- what weakness do you exploit the most against vampires?

💀- how many vampires have you killed?

😈- what’s your motivation for being a hunter?

⚰️- what’s the best way to deal with a vampire, in your opinion?

🕷️- have you had any close calls?

QUESTIONS FOR A THRALL/BLOODBAG/JUICEBOX

🥀- are you happy?

🦷- do you like being fed from?

👠- is your owner/master cruel to you?

🗝️- if you were to try to escape, how would you do it?

🪦- do you think you’ll die here?

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

cw vampire whumper, conditioned whumpee, past nonconsensual blood drinking

"Why do you keep letting them do this to you?" Caretaker asked, eyes narrowing at the fresh bite mark on Whumpee's neck. Subtle bruising surrounded the puncture wounds.

Whumpee frowned, quickly tugging the collar of their shirt to cover the mark. "I'm—it's not really a big deal."

Caretaker sighed. "I hate seeing you like this. You keep getting paler and thinner and...quieter. I keep wondering how long it will be before there's nothing left of you."

"It's not like that," Whumpee insisted. "Whumper isn't hurting me. And besides, did you ever consider that maybe I like what they do to me?"

They didn't tell Caretaker how they used to wail and thrash against Whumper's hold, before they understood their place. Before Whumper taught them how incredible it was to provide for someone else with your very life force.

Whumpee didn't tell Caretaker that underneath their clothes, their body was littered with bruises and bite marks. Some were old and fading, others were fresh and still sore, but each of them was a claim Whumper had made on them.

And they didn't tell Caretaker that some nights Whumper would take too much when they fed, leaving Whumpee drained and lightheaded as their blood soaked the bedsheets. They would wake up in Whumper's arms the next day, disoriented and achy, with gentle praises whispered in their ear. "I like seeing you this way," Whumper would murmur. "All dumb and empty-headed. How a good little human is meant to be."

Whumpee didn't tell Caretaker any of this; they wouldn't understand. They didn't explain that the more Whumper fed from them—owned them—the easier it got.

"How could you possibly enjoy being treated that way?" Caretaker asked softly.

Whumpee shrugged and looked away. "I don't know. Whumper makes me feel...needed. I guess that's the part I enjoy the most."

[crowzwhump]

Tw: Vampire Whump | Vampire Whumper | Kidnapping | Noncon Vampire Feeding | Stalking (let me know if I need to add any!)

The city was bathed in the soft glow of the full autumns moon hung high in the sky, the soft glow of streetlights, casting long, eerie shadows across the empty sidewalks.

In this urban labyrinth, Whumpee, a young and unsuspecting individual, hurried through the narrow alleyways, unaware that they were being stalked by a predator of the darkest kind.

Whumper, a modern vampire with a taste for the thrill of the chase, had spotted Whumpee earlier in a bustling cafe, their heart racing as they sensed the sweet aroma of innocence that clung to their chosen prey.

As Whumpee turned the corner, they were startled to find themselves face to face with Whumper, who had been lurking in the shadows, just out of sight, now stepped into the dim light, a charming smile playing on their lips.

"Lost, are we?" Whumper purred, their voice as seductive as a siren's song.

They moved closer, their eyes locking onto Whumpee's, holding them in a captivating gaze.

Whumpee, disoriented and slightly flustered by the sudden encounter, stammered, "I… I wasn't expecting to run into anyone here."

The Whumper's smile widened.

"Well Fate has a funny way of bringing people together, Doesn't it?" they mused.

"In fact, I could use your help with something. You see, I'm looking for a particular place, and I seem to have lost my way. Would you be so kind as to assist me?"

Whumpee hesitated, their guard slowly lowering in the presence of the charismatic stranger.

"I suppose I could help you find your way," they replied cautiously.

Whumper's smile only grew, "Wonderful!" They said, "I do appreciate your kindness, truley."

As Whumpee turned their attention to giving directions, the Whumper's predatory instincts sharpened as the conversation continued, their words a hypnotic melody that dulled Whumpee's senses.

But as Whumpee's back was turned, Whumper finally saw their opportunity.

In a swift and shocking move, the vampire lunged forward, wrapping their cold, strong arms around Whumpee.

"W-what are you--!?" Whumpee gasped in surprise, the realization of their peril sinking in too late.

"You're too trusting, my dear," Whumper whispered, their breath sending shivers down Whumpee's spine. "But don't worry; I promise to make this encounter unforgettable."

Terror seized Whumpee's heart as they felt the fangs graze softly their neck, Their eyes widened while their breath quickening as panic set in.

"No, please, don't!" Whumpee begged, their voice quivering with fear. "I'll do anything, just let me go!"

"Anything, you say? How intriguing," Whumper purred, their grip tightening around Whumpee's trembling form pulling them closer against them. "But I'm afraid it's too late for negotiations, my dear."

Whumpee's breaths came in ragged gasps as they struggled to comprehend the nightmare they had been pulled into.

"What… what are you?" they stammered, tears welling up in their eyes.

The Whumper leaned in, their lips brushing against Whumpee's earlobe, sending a shiver of dread down their spine.

"I'm a creature of the night," Whumper hissed, their tone both seductive and menacing. "A vampire, if you will, and you, my dear, are about to become part of my world."

Tears streamed down Whumpee's face as they whispered, "P-please, there mm-must be another w-way. I don't ww-want to die."

The Whumper's eyes gleamed with an unholy hunger as they gazed into Whumpee's tear-filled eyes.

"Oh, you misunderstand me," They murmured. "I won't let you die. No, I intend to keep you alive, to make you my Blood Bag."

With a gentle but firm grip, Whumper lifted Whumpee's chin, exposing the pale, vulnerable curve of their throat while the moonlight danced upon the delicate skin, emphasizing the pulsing vein beneath.

As Whumpee's trembling body was held firmly in the Whumper's grasp, the vampire's fangs pierced their delicate skin.

A sharp, exquisite pain shot through Whumpee, followed by an intense sensation of pleasure that was impossible to resist.

Whumper's venomous saliva mixed with Whumpee's blood, igniting a euphoria that left them weak at the knees.

Whumper fed with a calculated rhythm, their lips pressed against the wound, their tongue dancing over the puncture marks, savoring every drop, and as the first drops of blood touched the their tongue, a shiver of pleasure coursed through their body.

Whumper's hand, cool and gentle, caressed Whumpee's cheek, guiding their face to the side to allow for better access to their throbbing vein.

The Vampire's tongue flicked over the wound, lapping up the crimson nectar that flowed from Whumpee's neck.

The taste was intoxicating, like the finest vintage wine, all while whumpee's heartbeat echoed in their ears, the rhythm of their life force lulling the Whumper into a hypnotic trance.

Time seemed to lose all meaning as Whumper fed, savoring every drop of precious life essence.

Whumpee's breaths grew shallow, and their vision blurred, the world around them fading into obscurity.

Finally, once Whumpee's body had grown frail and their breaths dangerously shallow, Whumper withdrew, their lips stained crimson.

They watched with a cruel satisfaction as Whumpee slumped forward, unconscious and utterly helpless.

With a predatory grace, Whumper gathered Whumpee's limp form into their arms their pulse had grown feeble, and their body had become a mere vessel, emptied of life.

Whumper's eyes glittered with triumph as they turned away from the moonlit alley, disappearing into the night with their newfound Blood Bag.

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 40: The Maestro's Mark

Prev > Masterlist > Next

June 1905

TW: mind control, body control, captivity, human auction, abuse, burning, branding, mouth whump, forced self-harm, dissociation, this one's kind of a doozy isn't it

"Sir -- " Fitz's voice had returned to him, and he was dismayed to find it shaky and weak, much like his knees. Beside him, Miss Lily was gripping his chain so hard he thought she might crumble it to dust. "Sir -- who was -- "

"The Maestro, an old and powerful vampire lord. My sire, and Alexander's sire as well. The one responsible for turning us into vampires," Miss Lily said, picking him up into a princess carry. "I wasn't expecting him to be here. He normally does not purchase his thralls."

"Is he --" Fitz faltered with the amount of questions he wanted to ask, before settling on the most important one. "Is he cruel, sir?"

She hesitated to answer as she carried him backstage and out into the hallway. "...Yes," she finally said. "Yes, he is cruel. I'm sorry."

She sounded like she meant the apology, and Fitz's too-short life flashed before his eyes.

"What should I do, sir?"

"There's nothing you can do now. Nothing you can do but be obedient. Try to find the private places in your mind to retreat to, places where he can't reach. Eat whatever you're offered when you can. Sleep as much as possible. And never be defiant, even for the smallest matter. The price will never be worth it."

"...You seem as though you know what you're talking about, sir."

"I was his thrall, once."

It was a colorful and loud nightmare as Fitz was carried through the bustling hallway filled with vampires and their newly purchased thralls, talking and laughing and showing off their fashions. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that when he would open them, he'd be somewhere else. The lumpy couch in his drafty, shared apartment. His dressing room backstage. Even the opulent prison of his bedroom back at his family's home.

He'd found that unbearably oppressive at the time. Perhaps he'd been a fool to leave, after all.

When he opened his eyes again, he was in a small room primarily occupied by a desk and a few chairs. A vampire in a fashionable black dress, her neck and ears dripping with jewels, entered the room. "Oh my, Lily, your expression is better suited for a funeral. You've sold your little project for an extravagant amount of cash. Whatever could be the problem?"

Miss Lily's face was sour as a lemon. "You know very well how I feel about my sire, Colette."

"His money will spend as good as everyone else's. If you ask me, you were a little too attached to this thrall."

"I don't care one iota about this thrall," she said, her grip tightening on Fitz's shoulders. "I just think that no one, not even a thrall, deserves the displeasure of serving my sire."

"And yet, I assume you'll want your share of the earnings."

"And yet."

The door opened, and Fitz's new owner entered the room. Perhaps it was Fitz's fevered imagination, but even the gas lamps seemed to flicker in response to the foreboding aura. He gave Miss Lily a small nod, and Fitz felt her fingers dig in tighter, painful.

"It's truly an honor to do business with you, Maestro, sir,"  said Miss Colette, settling behind the desk. "Now, then, sir, you'll owe eleven thousand dollars, unless you require any additional services..."

"No, thank you." He was staring at Fitz now, and it felt like icicles sliding down his back. Fitz couldn't help the impulse to look away -- and realized that he couldn't. He was caught hopelessly in the web of power once more.

His master, as soon as the money was handed over. His master forever. There would be no escaping a man like this.

Never be defiant. The price will never be worth it.

Never be himself ever again.

No, he had to snap out of it. There had to be a way out of this. Some way to charm him, to appeal, to get them both on the same side. There had to be. Weaseling out of bad situations was one of his specialties.

The Maestro was reaching into his coat and pulling out a pouch of what looked to be actual golden coins, as if he were some kind of royalty. Miss Colette didn't seem to regard this as strange, taking the coins from the pouch and weighing them on a small scale. Satisfied with the amount, she handed him a contract to sign.

"Now, if the transaction is complete," he said, "please leave so I can discipline my spawn and my thrall."

"Of course, sir." Miss Colette filed out of the room immediately.

Fitz's protests and his screams died in his throat, along with his desperate impulses to flee anywhere. He was under his new master's power again, frozen in time. He'd never escape, of course, but it still hurt to not even be allowed to try first, to be trapped in a treacherous body that wouldn't obey even his smallest commands.

"Lily," he said, approaching her, and Fitz realized that Miss Lily was holding him in front of her as though Fitz could shield her from her sire. "This thrall has an excellent bloodline and potential. Why did you train him improperly and allow him to make an embarrassment of you?"

"He's a performer by nature, sire, as I'm sure you can see," said Miss Lily, and she sounded as subdued and fearful as Fitz was, a far cry from her confident nature when enthralling him. "He is fully trained and obedient. I simply thought it was amusing to allow him to continue to perform, sire. Plenty of vampires would desire a thrall for entertainment. I don't think he's an embarrassment. It took skill to render him obedient while keeping his personality intact."

If Fitz could move, he would be nodding vigorously, appreciative of Miss Lily's defense.

"Yes. Performance is his nature, that much is true just by looking at him. But you need to be in better control of the thralls in your care, not allow them to preen and pose on the auction block." He reached past Fitz to touch Lily's hair, tucking loose strands of her hair into her bun. Fitz could feel her hands tremble. "Oh, child, I worry that I am too lenient on your soft heart. I don't understand what I did to be cursed with two spawn so gifted and yet so foolish."

"Thank you for your patience with us, sire."

"Indeed. And because you do often delight me, I will allow the punishment to be light."

"Yes, sire. Thank you, sire."

"Here. Take my knife." The Maestro held out a silver knife in a white-gloved hand, and Lily let go of Fitz's arm to take it. "You will find an unoccupied bathroom. You will remove your dress so that you do not bloody it. You will cut out your tongue. You will clean yourself and your surroundings thoroughly. You will then put your dress back on and join my other wayward spawn in the parlor."

Fitz's eyes widened at the description of the punishment, the only movement he could manage. He wanted to run. He wanted to scream. He couldn't do either. Miss Lily let go of his arms, and as she exited the room, head bowed low, he had the desperate, irrational impulse to stop her. True to her advice, she showed no sign of defiance, even when her sire was asking her to do the unthinkable -- as a "light" punishment. From the hard look in her eyes, he had no doubt that she was going to do it.

The door clicked shut. And Fitz was alone with his master.

The strange power forced Fitz's head up to look into the Maestro's eyes as he drew near, like a puppet on strings. With a surprisingly gentle touch, a gloved hand reached out and ruffled his hair, then hooked a finger under his chin and inspected his face from each angle. A soft finger traced down his neck and exposed collarbone, but there was no indication from his heavy aura that the vampire wanted to feed. There was no indication of any desire at all. Just control. Pure control.

What could he do to sway a man like this? He recognized his look, the man who was used to being the most powerful in the room, the kind who couldn't spare a scrap of tolerance for anyone else. No humor, no imagination. The kind of person Fitz usually avoided, or brought up on stage only to tease and get a response from the audience. On stage, Fitz held the power.

His new owner was center stage, now, and not one to relinquish the spotlight easily.

"Fitzwilliam de Hastings," said the Maestro in that musical voice. "You will answer my questions honestly. First -- do you fear me?"

Fitz felt his tongue loosen. This, at least, was an easy question. "Yes, Master."

"You are correct to. At least you are not that sort of fool. Now, tell me -- did you wish for my spawn Alexander to purchase you?"

He recalled the pathetic, fleeting hope he'd had when he'd flirted with Mr. Alexander in the showroom. Yes, yes he had, but he suspected that was the wrong answer. What had worked on Mr. Alexander wouldn't work here -- he needed to work a new angle. "I did think that at first, Master, but then you made that impeccable entrance. You're clearly the vampire all other vampires respect -- it's an honor to have been purchased by you."

The Maestro nodded, then removed one of his gloves.

A percussive crack rang through Fitz's ears, and it took his brain a moment to catch up and realize that he had been slapped hard across the face.

"Do not ever lie to me, child, and do not insult me with your cheap flattery. This is your only warning," his master said, in precisely the same tone as before, not betraying anger or disappointment or any emotion at all. "Try again. Did you wish for my spawn Alexander to purchase you?"

"Yes, Master," said Fitz immediately, praying that he wouldn't incur any further punishment. His tongue. He'd ordered Miss Lily to cut out her own tongue. And if his master wanted to do the same to him, there'd be nothing he could do about it, his very body out of his control.The thought of being permanently rendered mute, unable to joke and flirt and tease and perform --

It hadn't settled in before, had it? What it truly meant to be in thrall to a vampire. Between Miss Lily's mesmerism and his own hubris, he'd imagined himself getting out of this by charming the vampire, carving himself a better life through wit and charisma, as he'd always managed. But these vampires were so much more powerful than him and always would be. What good is wit against a creature who can control your body on a whim, or take your mind away with a word?

He couldn't save himself. No one was coming to save him. There was only him and his cruel new master, and he was unable even to express the despair bubbling up within him. A fate so much worse than death, inescapable.

The re-gloved hand stroked Fitz's cheek gently in the place that was still stinging from the slap. "Despite your ill manners, you have potential, Fitzwilliam. My darling Lily saw that in you, no doubt. A born performer with a compelling presence. Sharp minded. And so, so beautiful. A pity about your headstrong nature," he said. "But you needn't concern yourself. I only need to patiently carve away your imperfections. And I am a very patient vampire."

"Thank you, Master," said Fitz, who had never been more frightened of so-called praise in his life.

"More importantly, I believe you are the key to finally breaking my Alexander's will."

"...I don't understand, sir."

"Thralls aren't meant to understand, child. Thralls are meant to obey. And I have decided what young Alexander's lesson will be." He drew his hand away. "I will give you to Alexander."

Fitz couldn't help but furrow his brow, confused. That couldn't be right. 

"It will be a test for him. One that he will fail."

The Maestro pulled a small metal cylinder from his coat. He carefully lifted the glass from the lamp sitting on Miss Colette's desk, beckoning Fitz forward. Fitz felt himself sleepwalking towards his master, even as the Maestro dipped the metal object in the lamp's flame, even as Fitz realized with growing dread what was about to happen.

"He will forget you belong to me. He will desire to possess you, cherish you, perhaps even love you. He will believe he can rescue you from me. He will be incorrect. I will allow him to believe this, then I will take you from him, and I will break you, and suffering will be a teacher to you both."

Fitz's heart pounded.

"Kneel."

His puppeted body gracefully knelt upon the carpet, the crushed red velvet of his dress cushioning his legs, as he looked up in terror.

With a calm, unreadable expression, the Maestro pulled down the neckline of his ball gown and pressed the burning metal to Fitz's flesh, just below his collarbone.

He couldn't scream. He couldn't flinch. He couldn't fight or back away. He couldn't do anything but feel his eyes filling with tears as the white hot pain seared through his body.

Fitz barely even noticed when the brand was pulled away, because the pain hardly lessened. His master was examining his handiwork, and, seemingly satisfied, made Fitz's body stand.

There was no way Fitz could be standing through the shock and the pain, but the puppet strings controlling his every move made it so, forcing him to walk on weak and shaky legs.

"Now show your gratitude for my precious gift."

Fitz's body curtsied low. 

But Fitz's mind, flooded with pain and endorphins and magic, was traveling far away. Away from here, anywhere but here, anything but this. Anything but an inescapable descent into hell.

Prev > Masterlist > Next

Well, wasn't that fun.

@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 @shinyotachi @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

[a-crumb-of-whump]

Content: Blood, vampire whumper, creepy whumper, gags, creepy whumper.

"Look at all that delicious blood," Whumper purred, digging their knees firmly into the ground as their hands pinned Whumpee's above their head. The poor thing whimpered and cried from around their gag, blood seeping out of every cut on their body. "It smells heavenly. You're so undeniably pretty when you're covered in it, too. Makes me want to..." They leaned in closer as two fangs appeared with their grin. "Devour you."

[whumpy-wyrms]

i just love the concept of an immortal human whumpee being kept captive by a vampire whumper. the whumper can take however much blood they want and the whumpee will never die.

[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

Don't know if this is your thing but attempting some mind control? >:)

This ended up more about vampires than mind control but it's there lol.

TW: Vampire, manhandling, thrall/mind control, threat of eye whump (doesn't happen)

The vampire knocked a few times on their present’s room. A courtesy gesture really. Mostly to warn them as they opened the door and entered. 

Whumpee still jumped, as far from the door as they could be. “I didn’t invite you in, how can you be here?” They asked tiredly, faced away from their captor.

“Delight, this is my house. I need no permission to enter my own rooms.” 

Whumpee stiffened, but didn’t turn around. 

The vampire sighed. “I have some friends downstairs who are simply dying to meet you. Won’t you come willingly? It’s not as if this is new to you.” 

No response, no movement from the poor unfortunate human in the room. Faster than could be registered, the vampire was across the room, human pinned to the wall from their inhuman strength. Whumpee tried unsuccessfully to pull away, squirming and holding their eyes tightly closed.

It was always both satisfying and tempting to feel the human’s heartbeat under the vampire’s palm. The warmth of life might be gone from their body but their senses had been enhanced beyond all imagination. The simple fact they didn’t eviscerate every prey they fed from was a testament to their skill. 

The vampire tsked, lightly dragging their sharpened fingers down whumpee’s cheek. “Now now Delight, you know how I despise it when you act petulant. Open those eyes, if you won’t obey of your own accord.” 

The human knew the vampire was right. They weren’t new to this. But all the same, they fought it. Refused to give in. Refused to simply lie down and allow the bloodsucker to make them their little pet. Even through their vulnerable trembles, whumpee kept their eyes closed. 

A dark growl reverberated through their body. Whumpee’s reaction was far from beyond their control; a deep instinct, encouraged by pain and suffering that lingered long after they were returned limp to their room. They knew what was coming but even then couldn’t let go. 

“Open your eyes,” the vampire ground out again, claws digging into Whumpee’s hair and pulling on their tender scalp. 

“If you keep them closed, my friends and I will cut your eyelids out.” 

Whumpee shook. They knew they had been pushing their luck, knew their captor wouldn’t entertain their behavior forever. 

As a little piece of them died, they opened their eyes. 

It wasn’t but a moment later everything grew dream-like. The colors stronger, everything sharper, but the world also a bit further away. Less important. Less real.  

“There,” purred the vampire, stroking Whumpee’s face and basking in the way they leaned into it. “Isn’t that better? More freeing? Safer?” 

“Yes, Master,” Whumpee muttered sleepily, more than happy to follow the vampire down the hall and stairs to the inevitable grabbing of skin and gnashing of teeth that would leave them weaker still, until nothing was left.