#older pet whumpee

[parasiticstars]

To Teach an Old Dog: #1

re re re re re re uploaded bc tumblr keeps fucking it up

TW: BBU/pet whump, casual mentions of dehumanization, institutionalized slavery, and suicide idealization, and me being very pretentious

Kavan’s back hurts. Of the numerous things wrong with his situation, this is what he decided to focus on in an attempt to stave off the impeding sensory overload— and this is the only familiar, non-Pet-fuckery problem he has.

The bit was fastened too tight and digs in the corners of his mouth. He can feel drool starting to crust his beard. He’s disused to the shoddy buzzcut his masters captors gave him in an attempt to make him presentable before auction; he'll certainly never take the feeling of hair on his ears for granted again. The ear tag is pulling on already mutilated earlobes, adding to a budding headache just behind his eyes. The concrete floors look and feel like they haven’t been cleaned ever. The auctioneer’s voice is solidly the fourth most irritating sound he’s ever heard in his life.

Alas, nothing Kavan attempts to focus on staves off the visceral, skin-crawling feeling of too much. No matter how many times the man gets shuttled in and out of auctions and captors like a head of livestock, he’ll never truly get used to the non-personhood, the sheer objectification of it all. Nor will he get used to an audience leering and inspecting him and the other Pets people around him like the products they’re advertised and sold as.

Nobody seems to be interested in him, thank god. Kavan’s getting too old for most people’s tastes— even as a labor Pet, being above thirty is automatically considered a liability, as if he’d crumple into dust the second he set foot onto a construction site or a plantation or wherever the hell else. Has he felt close to it? Definitely. But that didn’t mean he would; even though some places, water and breaks weren’t a given.

(Why would they be? Employers and contractors who use Pets rather than workers don’t need to abide by silly things such as OSHA and basic human decency.)

But regardless.

With the slowly increasing amount of times he’s talked about like his expiry date has run out, Kavan wonders when he’s going to just be taken out behind the shed.

He wonders if he’ll do it himself one of these days.

A prod to the small of his back forces him to straighten, making him nearly drop his sign in the process. His attention snaps back to the crowd, all crammed together in this dingy-ass building in those dingy-ass folding chairs betting on dingy-ass people.

Long had Kavan lost the naïvety that Pet owners were this special type of evil, so impossibly cruel and uncaring that they simply couldn’t be human. Regardless, the fact that everyone here is so unassuming still screws with him. He could hypothetically see any one of them, say, at a Starbucks bitching at the barista about their overpriced order, or shopping at Trader Joe’s, or working in their cubicle, or at a PTA meeting. That in particular jars him.

Nobody around them would know that said person was willingly participating in legalized slavery, lacking even the flimsy pretense of “rescuing” their aunt’s-grandma’s-brother’s-husband’s-neighbor’s-girlfriend’s-niece’s Pet or whatever else they’d want to virtue signal on their Facebook wall or status or whatever else.

(Are Facebook statuses still a thing? God, Kavan’s been out of the loop too long. He doesn’t even know how long.)

One woman in particular has set sights on him. Judging by the fine cut yet plain color of her coat, the disgusted-holier-than-thou glances she’d occasionally give whoever she was seated near whenever they did anything particular crude, the brand name Ceilos, she’s probably fuck-off rich trying not to look fuck-off rich. What would someone like her want at a low scale labor pet auction like this? Why is she eyeing him in particular? Why are her irises barely darker than #FFFFF?

Catastrophizing is, it seems, a very time consuming activity. It muffles the rest of the auction, the auctioneer’s droning that would soon settle the man’s fate, the assistant taking away the sign Kavan was holding and tugging at the rope attached to his collar.

He stumbles as he’s led off the platform and into the pen for inspection. Through the buzzing of his ears, the sound of heels clicking follows.

[whump-thoughts]

PLEASE girl, I am begging yall to write more pet whump with Older Whumpee and Younger Caretaker. The possibilities for fluff and the fucked up shit are endless why does it feel I am the only insane man to see the potential

[just-an-enby-lemon]

I had whumpt prompt idea.

Before being accused of betraying The System and being taken to The Facility and becoming Whumper's pet, Whumpee was a single father.

When Whumper gets tired of him and gifts him to the younger prodigy and secretly rebel Caretaker he has dificulty breaking the condition and understanding that Caretaker truly sees him as a human. Except Caretaker is a teenager, the same age Whumpee's son was when Whumpee was taken. So when Whumpee sees Caretaker underage drinking for a second he forgets the programming and enters Dad Mode and is all "what are you thinking".

Finally after a lot of fussing Whumpee looks at Caretaker in the eye and says "you are grounded give me your phone" and Caretaker looks at him with shock and teen anger and Whumpee finally remembers that this is his "master" and starts to kneel and present himself for punishment when Caretaker (who never had a positive parental figure before) handles him his phone and asks in a whinny teen voice "how long till I can get it back?"

[gottawhump]

New Arrival

CW/TW: pet whump, BBU/WRU, older whumpee

So this is more of a snippet than a scene, but that’s never stopped me before. Here’s a starting point for what will probably be a new series. Since it’s a BBU series, it will probably overlap with Forgive and Forget at some point, but no guarantees on how or when.

Welcome to Old Friends Senior Pet Sanctuary! A place for older Pets and those unlikely or unable to adapt to more traditional safehouses and rehabilitation.

It’s a great sprawling mansion surrounded by equally sprawling grounds, an old multistoried structure that needs a large live-in staff just to keep it up. It exudes wealth and authority, just like the man who steps out of it, dressed casually in a T-shirt and jeans that are just as tailored as an expensive suit.

Sometimes that’s reassuring to new arrivals who want the reassurance of ownership and routine. But today Carlisle Black is trying consciously to tamp it down. He knows his newest resident isn’t looking for a new owner. He’s grieving the loss of the old one.

The older Guard Dog is wearing a well-tailored suit, black with silver accents that match the grey streaking his hair. He looks well fed, well cared for. He’s here because his owner made arrangements for his lifetime care in the event of his passing.

So many don’t.

[rizzoto-whump]

Update a new chap!

Ronald and Artur, who were bothered by that damn merman, finally taught him a lesson he would never forget.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44028180?view_full_work=true

[bitchesmoonwalkin]

okay attempt two at posting this

ways of making a whumpee scared of non-con without outright nc or threats

carewhumper vibes. the obvious tws apply

manhandling. throw them onto the bed and straddle their hips, keeping their hands pinned on either side of their head. alternatively, bend them over a table or a bed, keeping them there with a hand tangled in their hair or on the back of their neck.

alternatively, keeping them pressed against your chest or guiding them with fingers tangled in their hair or digging into their hip, just slightly under their waistband

classic shows of submission. tie them up and have them kneel - especially if it's between your whumpers spread legs. give their hair a pet every once in a while if they're good.

pet names: baby, pet, pretty boy, pup, princess. etc.

strip them. personally i prefer keeping my whumpees in their underwear and maybe a carewhumpers tshirt, but even so the act of stripping them is a great place for some physical and psychological whump - ESPECIALLY when the whumpee has only just been kidnapped/captured and does not yet know what to expect

have them undress in front of you for the first time before making them bend over the bed. watch their hands shake and their eyes fill with tears, feel them tense underneath you, frozen with fear. and then you simply just handcuff them or even just walk out of the room, leaving them to question when the n/c will start - only it won't. their fear is all you wanted, after all

gruff/significantly larger or older caretaker bathing a younger whumpee who doesn't feel safe around them yet - whumpee flinching away but too weak to fight as they are gently stripped and placed in the bath, being cleaned /everywhere/ in a way that makes them flush with shame even if there's no intention behind the touches

whumpee being gently but firmly forced into a humiliating position, maybe forced to stand still for an /inspection/ filled with clinical yet invasive touches

using objects w sexual connotations (ball gags, blindfolds, certain whips and types of restraints) in non-sexual situations

this works especially well for a newer whumpee - strip them, blindfold and ball gag them before thing them to a mattress, legs spread. then let them wake up on their own, slowly, watch the fear kick in as they come to their own conclusions about what's going to happen to them

some more explicit stuff below the cut

those dildo gags or maybe an anal plug or vibe - just, you know. keep it in

shoving fingers into whumpees mouth until tears come to their eyes

be handsy with them

taking photos of them in intimate or humiliating posistions

whumper jerking off onto whumpees face where they're tied up and kneeling

buying whumpee lingerie - if they wear it, they might get some food or even first aid

[ladywhumplady]

Revival Whump

Whumpee who killed themself for the freedom/relief of death is brought back to life against their will, kicking and screaming as they are brought back to Whumper

Whumpee is a lab rat used to figure out what happens after you die

Whumper figures out a way to come back to life every time Whumpee/Caretaker kills them so Whumpee can never be free

Whumpee is raised from the dead and made into something else. They are mindless, unable to do anything but listen to Whumper's orders... or so everyone thinks. While their body is ruined, their soul/spirit is a ghost wandering around, begging Whumper to kill them so they can return to the afterlife

Whumpee dies somehow and the afterlife is worse than life. They are relieved to be back with Whumper and Whumper is overjoyed to see their subject/Whumpee behaving itself

Whumpee is so distraught about Whumper's death that they bring them back like a good little Whumpee

Whumpee's species goes back and forth between death and life, like a phoenix. The experience is excruciating but Whumper drugs Whumpee so it happens more often because they find it fun to see how Whumpee suffers

Whumpee comes back exactly the way they were but Whumper is still convinced that something is wrong with them and is determined to experiment on them to figure out what

Whumpee who is desperate to live is killed publicly by Whumper, reacting extremely emotionally. They are publicly humiliated when Whumper brings them back to life

Whumpee is brought back to life and it's like they're two/multiple people, as though when they died they were split into multiple pieces

Whumper treats Whumpee like a stress toy, destroying them and bringing them back like a pop-it so they can play over and over again

Whumper doesn't have to go easy on Whumpee; they can destroy Whumpee completely and have them back in time for dinner

Revival takes a long time to complete and so by the time they're awake, Whumpee is old/still young but everyone they loved is dead - except Whumper

Female Whumpee is killed on their period and brought back to life when it's over so Whumper doesn't have to deal with all that 'gross blood'

Whumpee is older/younger when they are brought back to life

Pet Whumpee who doesn't realise their Whumper is immortal/will come back to life is distraught over Whumper's death and kills themself. When Whumper comes back, they are extremely annoyed at their henchfolk for allowing them to do it.

[serene-cinders]

A Caretaker adopting a pet Whumpee from a shelter out of pity. Whumpee’s been abused. Maybe they can’t, or won’t speak, so their pain is a mystery, but it shows in their empty eyes, maimed form, scars running criss-cross all over.

Maybe Whumpee’s on the older side. Maybe they’re not conventionally attractive. They’ve been abandoned by the world, they’ve been at the shelter for years, and they’re slowly succumbing. Dying.

Caretaker never agreed with this ‘human pet’ business. They find it despicable, and wouldn’t support it. But… that wretched husk, so rigorously broken down, brings tears to their eyes. And they can’t bare the thought of somebody dying alone in this unfeeling, underfunded shit hole.

So, Caretaker makes the choice to give them the kindest few weeks of their life.

[rabbit-flaying]

A Taste of Paradise chapter one

Content Warnings: pet whump, drugging, kidnapping, carewhumper, emotional manipulation, manipulative whumper and whumpee, dubiously consensual intimacy (nonsexual), mild xenophobia

Note: Thanks a million to @kira-the-whump-enthusiast for being my editor a few months ago. And I am once again apologizing for my disappearance.

Ezra roused himself from a deep sleep. He didn't feel all that well rested, but foggy in the mind and disconnected from any sense of physical touch.

The first thing he noticed was the lavender. A sweet but bitter edged smell, too natural to be a common fragrance yet too strong to come from a growing plant.

It reminded Ezra of a field trip he had taken as a teenager. They had gone to see a lavender farm, which had been a snooze fest until fire caught a tree on the farm and they had to evacuate.

He realized, then, he was laying with his head on someone's lap.

Someone was playing with his hair.

Ezra's eyes shot open, revealing that he was anywhere but his apartment. Rather, he was laying on a sofa in a cozy sort of living room, in the snug embrace of a knit blanket.

A fire flickered in the hearth, despite all evidence of the home's electricity like overhead lights and electrical switches on the walls. The lights weren't in use, for more than enough sunlight streamed in through the windows.

He had never been so comfortable.

"Ah, awake at last. How lovely."

The voice evidently belonged to the man playing with Ezra's hair. His tone was calming, despite bearing a Russian accent which Americans were conditioned to distrust immediately. Ezra felt this gut reaction to be unfair, but he wasn't in any mental state to start unpacking it.

Ezra sat up and rubbed his eyes, bringing the world further into focus. But all he could comprehend was the firm hand on his shoulder, holding him still and showing affection in the same instance.

His company looked familiar, despite Ezra's certainty that they had never met. He looked to be about forty, maybe older, smile lines etched on his skin and gray streaks in his mousy brown hair. His glasses were circular, in a style that hadn't been popular for a long time.

Ezra had never missed time or lost memories before, and was suddenly sympathetic to people with regular dissociation. Maybe this was what his online friend Isadora was always joking about.

"Where am I?" he asked. "Sorry, sorry, that's rude, isn't it? I've never woken up in some guy's house before. Not that kind of a person- Wait, sorry again. Who are you?"

"It's quite alright," the man said. "My name is Christopher Vadimevich. And I already know who you are, my dear Ezra."

"Christopher Vad- what?" The need for clarification embarrassed him. He always gave people hell for not being able to pronounce Arabic names, but now he was stumped on a Russian one.

"My apologies. Most Americans don't use patronymics, do they? My name is Christopher Kotev. But just Christopher will do."

Ezra tried for politeness. "Nice to meet you, sir. I don't know what's happening here. But my job at Safeway probably isn't going to give me more sick leave just for having amnesia. So I'd better go now, if that's alright with you."

"Oh, stay awhile." Christopher's smile reached his light brown eyes, looking perfectly genuine despite his strange words. "I'll make you some tea, and I have borscht almost done cooking."

Ezra inhaled deeply through his nose, the smell of lavender proving nearly as overwhelming as his confusion. He definitely had amnesia.

Was this Christopher taking care of him?

On that note… What year was it? Covid came with awful time loss, of course, but surely it still had to be 2021.

He would just have to play along. Every problem had a solution. His whole life had been spent finding them, no matter how tough things got. And besides, no horror movie was ever set in a cozy home with Tchaikovsky playing from a vinyl record.

This couldn't be too unpleasant, now could it?

"Well?" Christopher asked. "Won't you stay for lunch?"

"Yes, I sure will." Ezra forced a smile, mentally rewinding their conversation. "Um, what's borscht? I'm totally pronouncing that wrong, but anyway. What is it?"

This was just like him. Missing the forest for the trees, and in turn even missing the trees themselves in favor of their leaves. He had always been one to fill in the center of jigsaw puzzles before doing the edges. If he was eating with a stranger, he may as well ask what's on the menu.

"It's a sort of stew," Christopher readily explained. "Very popular in Russia after potatoes were brought over from Americas. Everyone makes it differently, but all with beets and cabbage and such things."

"That sounds nice. I can't remember the last time I had stew."

"Come along to the kitchen then. It's almost done."

Christopher stood up, and Ezra automatically did the same. He didn't complain when Christopher put a hand on his shoulder and guided him to the kitchen. 'Sit still and look pretty' was second nature, especially in confusing predicaments. And besides. What choice did he have?

The dining room looked straight out of an edition of Home and Garden. It got put to proper use, with ceramic plates in the sink and children's crayon drawings held to the fridge with magnets.

But still, it was squeaky clean, not a speck of dirt in sight. Ezra hadn't mastered the art of making soup without spilling on the stovetop, but Christopher evidently had.

A light blue cloth draped over the table, and on it was a centerpiece of a golden angel standing on a lace doily and holding two unlit candles in her hands. Flowerpots sat on every windowsill and other available flat surface. Mostly lavender, of course, alongside forget-me-nots and jasmine.

Ezra felt painfully out of place. But he sat at the table anyway, with his back against the wall so he could watch Christopher busy himself in the kitchen.

"It's so nice to have company for lunch," he was saying. "I get lonesome by myself."

"Well… I'm happy to be here," Ezra lied, taking a stab at lightening the mood. "I mean, I can't complain as long as you're feeding me, right?"

Christopher chuckled. He was filling his tea kettle with tap water. "You sound like my family. About only time I see them is for Sunday lunches."

Ezra didn't hesitate before baiting his line to fish for any information he could reel in. "Your family? I don't know anything about them."

"Oh, you know." Christopher set the kettle on a burner, and lit a petrol flame beneath it. "I immigrated with my parents when i was ten years old. From Soviet Union, of course. I have five- I mean four siblings. Lots of nieces and nephews, as you can tell by the front of my fridge. And a husband who forgets I exist if I'm not in his direct line of sight. But no kids myself. Very normal sort of family."

"I don't really talk to my family, you know. But yours sounds nice." Ezra cleared his throat. "You have a husband? Sorry, I don't mean it like that. It's just surprising." He could feel his cheeks warming unbearably. "Wait no- I- I'm gonna shut up now."

Christopher turned around, giving Ezra his full attention and a warm smile. He seemed to understand what it meant to a young man with no offline friendships, to meet another queer person.

"Nothing you could possibly say could compare to my mother," he said. "Believe me, I've heard it all. So, to answer your question, that's right. I was married seventeen years ago."

"That's nice." Ezra decided to change the subject. This wasn't going anywhere. "Can I admit something?"

"You may tell me anything you like."

"I don't know who you are. I think I hit my head or something. Maybe you should take me to the hospital." His voice was growing shrill. "I already joked about amnesia, but I was trying to wait for my memories to come back and they're not."

"Oh, my dear Ezra," Christopher said softly. "We've never met."

Christopher set a steaming bowl of stew in front of Ezra. The broth was bright red, and chunks of potato swam in it along with shredded vegetables and beef. Christopher set his own plate across the table from Ezra, and returned to the kitchen for what he had missed.

Ezra processed the revelation, trying to make it fix all the problems that had started when he woke up. But it didn't work. Instead, he was left with more questions to sort out.

The longer he tried to solve this puzzle, the more pieces he lost sight of.

Now there were glasses of water on the table. He watched Christopher scrape sour cream into his borscht, turning the broth a milky shade of pink.

"Then why am I in your house?" Ezra had apologized for being rude so many times already, and didn't feel like repeating himself again. "Who are you?"

"My name is Christopher Vadimevich Kotev. Yours is Ezra al Farrah. I've known you for a long while. So I am finally making our introduction. You are in my home, of course. And you have nothing to fear."

"You know that saying I shouldn't fear makes me more afraid, right?" Ezra fidgeted with the hem of the tablecloth while he spoke, trying not to relapse into his old habit of nail biting. "You do know that? Don't you?"

"What I mean is that I'm not going to hurt you. Enjoy the stew, and I'll make tea when the kettle starts singing."

"Then I can go home?"

"Why would you possibly want that?"

Ezra wanted to call Christopher stupid. Of course he wanted to go home. Who wouldn't?

But the question begged to be answered. Ezra hated his apartment. And his roommates. And his job. Not to mention every other cord that made up the tapestry of his life.

"Because I don't trust you." The only conceivable answer. "And you probably kidnapped me. What more do I need?"

Christopher took a sip of water before responding. "Well, I am a doctor. So if the drugging has any long term effects, please tell me. I know how to treat such things. You're in good hands."

"I don't remember being drugged. But I guess they fucked with my memory. That's the point. I'll let you know about any nausea or dizziness."

"Good good. Other things to look out for are headaches, muscle soreness, and a sensitivity to light."

Ezra finally realized just how similar he and his captor were when a problem needed to be solved. He had been roofied, so now they had to deal with lingering symptoms. It was only logical. If only he could figure out how to use their shared attention to details above the big picture to his advantage.

"I know that you're allergic to onions, so I left them out of the stew." Christopher shook salt into his own. "You should try eating. I know you must be hungry. And drink some water. It'll help flush the drugs from your system."

Ezra did as he was told, tilting back the glass to drink from. Drinking water seemed much easier than eating, at least for the time being. He found himself parched as though he had never tasted water before. He finished the glass, which barely satisfied him. Christopher proved nice enough to refill it at the sink.

"You know everything about me, apparently," Ezra said bluntly, refusing both to make eye contact. "From my preferred name to my allergies. So now I get to ask you some questions."

"I'll answer your questions as long as you eat. Would you like sour cream or salt?"

"No thanks. And you sound like my grandmother, by the way."

Despite his complaints, Ezra found his first bite of borscht very pleasant. He had never tried beets, and figured they must be the source of its unusual flavor.

He wolfed half the bowl down before giving himself any opportunity to talk. Maybe he was hungry after all.

"How long have you been stalking me, anyway?" He wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "And how have you been doing it?"

"A few months now. Since last February. And my methods were rather traditional. Following you around, eavesdropping, and all like that."

"You're very calm about this, aren't you? Ugh, nevermind. Next question. Why me?"

"People watching is a hobby of mine, and we frequent the same library. I've never been so invested in someone as I became with you. You were always going out of your way to be helpful and kind. Yet no one around you ever showed appreciation. It seemed so unfair, watching you struggle to make ends meet but still tipping cashiers and waiters whenever you could.

"I wanted so many times to help you, but I never knew how." Christopher reached across the table and held Ezra's hand. "This is my solution. I am going to give you a taste of paradise. Our own little Eden."

Ezra marveled at the butterflies in his stomach. He must have been crazy, the way he smiled at the man who had kidnapped him.

But in a perverse way, this was everything he had ever wanted to hear. He had always hated himself for the way he chased after attention. Now those feelings had increased sevenfold. No good deed went unpunished. He knew that fully well.

But maybe this punishment wouldn't be too unbearable.

"You're insane," he managed, forcing the smile off his face. "I mean, have you gotten checked out? This isn't… normal."

"I have 'gotten checked out'. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Narcissistic Personality Disorder, and Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Nothing that disconnects me from reality. I'm not unstable. This was all very well thought out."

Ezra had to laugh as he pulled his hand away from Christopher's. It was a strung out and shrill sort of noise. "Right, of course you have the same personality disorder as me. I bet you knew about our twin diagnosis already. Explains so much."

"What do you think it explains?" Christopher was finished with his stew, and folded his hands politely on his lap.

"I know what you're doing, so don't act sly. You're being nice to me. Nobody else does that. They just call me annoying. You're screwing with my unstable ego to get me to like you. Why else would you be talking to me like this? You're obvious."

"Your generation with its pop-psychology…" Christopher slowly shook his head. "People may have taught you that your natural desire for kindness is something to be ashamed of. But I know differently. I want to be kind to you. I want you to be happy. And yes, I do want you to like me. But that isn't my sole motivation."

"Well- I- I know how your brain works. Why have you decided that I'm worth your time? I must have done something that you decided was special."

Ezra hoped his compliment fishing wouldn't be called out. After all, Christopher also knew how his brain worked.

"I don't know how to explain my feelings towards you. But I want to make sure you eat well, and show you the affection you're lacking. Is that so difficult to understand?"

"Yeah, it is." Ezra shoved his dishes forward and rested his elbows on the table. "Because you're going to get sick of me eventually. Everyone does. I'm manipulative and obnoxious and- well, you get it. I can't cook. I can't clean. I can barely hold a job. You aren't going to get anything out of me but a healthy dose of frustration."

"Your worth does not lie in your labor or how well you comply with societal norms. I see something beautiful in you, even if you cannot. So let go of all your anxiety and just let this happen. I love you, my dear Ezra. And this is what matters."

Tears burned the corners of Ezra's eyes as they fought to escape their imprisonment. He couldn't believe he was crying. It felt so stupid. But no one, not one person in his entire life, had said anything so kind to him.

More than that, he couldn't remember the last time he had heard the word love from someone who didn't revel in sarcasm or insincerity.

He still had his wits about him, despite the tears in his eyes, and he didn't want to delude himself too badly.

Christopher didn't really love him. This was just an obsession, something Ezra himself was quite familiar with. But as long as Christopher kept talking like this, semantics hardly seemed to matter.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Christopher said, still sounding all too kind. "I really didn't mean to upset you."

"It's okay," Ezra managed, trying not to cause inconvenience with his feelings. "I'm fine. Don't- Don't worry."

But now Christopher was by his side and not listening to any of his excuses. He hugged Ezra, leaning down and quite literally giving him a shoulder to cry on. Ezra clung tightly to him, desperate for the affection he had craved for so many years. He would stay like this forever if he could. Overwhelmed by joy and the smell of lavender perfume.

"Is this my fault?" he croaked, knowing how nonsensical it must sound.

"That makes it sound like this is a punishment… But no, I suppose not. This is my responsibility entirely."

"And I'm not allowed to leave?"

"Of course not. You need to stay here. You're a beautiful and fragile thing, and I will not allow the world to mistreat you any longer. You'll be better off as a pet, of sorts, than anything you were before."

This was all Ezra's brain needed to rid him of his doubts. After all, he couldn't be blamed for any of this. He wasn't giving up entirely. When opportunity knocked, he would escape through the door it chose.

People would have to be sympathetic when he told them all that had happened. He didn't even need to play the victim. He was the victim.

"I'll stay with you." Ezra bit back his tears. "You've been very kind. I couldn't possibly think of leaving now."

"I'm so happy to hear that. I love you." Christopher released Ezra from the hug, and smiled down on him. "All I'm asking from you is obedience, and you're so good at that already."

"I love you too," Ezra lied sweetly. "Thank you for everything."

A light screeching sound filled the kitchen. The boiling water sounded as though it were in pain, steam desperately escaping through the small slit it had available.

"I'll make tea." Christopher returned to the kitchen, looking as happy as a proverbial clam. "Now, do you like sugar or honey?"

Taglist: @inbloodandtears @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @i-eat-worlds @whatwasmyprevioususername @boonasaurusrex @suspicious-whumping-egg @parasitebunny

So I went and forgot like the entire taglist after I erased my entire internet presence. I'm going off memory. And for some people, I remember you, but damn I cannot recall your username. If you would like to be added, please tell me!

[mj-iza-writer]

idk if you take requests but like Consider this pet whump,,

A wolf-hybrid (like those dogboys) Whumpee that Whumper conditioned and trained into a lapdog but also guard-attack dog,and since they're wolf, a hunting animal, people think that they'll just attack them yeah? Wrong. Whumpee doesn't maul until commanded to.

And just meeting Caretaker, someone older yet scared of them, bc thry have a fear of wolves, and thinks that Whumpee will kill them but then Whumpee just hits with

"Oh don't worry! I'm domesticated and trained, I won't attack you :3"

Like its the most normal thing, and they have a muzzle and collar...

Caretaker also probably doesn't know about Whumper, so its even funnier

Yes I absolutely take request. Thankyou so much.

Warnings: killing, mentions of main character dying. They survive. Hybrid human wolf pet.

**GRRR**

Whumper frowned when they heard that growl.

"What is it pet?", Whumper asked while they turned.

They looked up just in time to see a gun pointed at them. The assailant? No one Whumper knew.

"Whumpee protect!", Whumper ordered.

Whumpee quickly went into protection mode. They leaped forward, then charged.

The gun sounded. Whumper heard Whumpee scream.

They watched as Whumpee continued to charge the assailant. They turned and ran inside to grab their gun.

'Why didn't I have this on me', they yelled at themself.

"Whumpee off", they ordered as they ran back out and aimed the gun.

Whumpee jumped away and fell to the dirt.

Whumper's gun went off... the assailant slumped to the ground.

"Whumpee?", Whumper stepped over to them, "shit", they frowned as Whumpee struggled to get up. Blood poured from a bullet wound in Whumpee's shoulder.

"Whumpee, I'm sorry, but that isn't fixable. You are no good to me like this", Whumper stated matter of factly, "and after all the money I've spent on you. What a waste."

"I-I thought I was your good puppy... Master", Whumpee whispered as they looked down, "you said that last night while y-you were petting me. Was it a lie?"

"No it wasn't a lie, but it's not about you being good. It's about you being useful. You can't receive rewards like being pet and receiving treats, and being on my lap if you can't serve me", Whumper frowned.

"But" Whumpee looked down sadly, "I just saved you."

"And?" Whumper looked at them with agitation, "that was your job. You did it, and now you're wounded.... useless.

Whumpee was served a final dinner. Two raw chicken breasts and a cut of steak from Whumper's dinner.

Whumpee slowly ate... they knew what was coming next.

Whumper forced a muzzle on Whumpee, then attached a leash to their collar.

"May... May I take my chew rag?", Whumpee looked over at the only toy they had been given.

Whumper nodded as they loaded their gun.

Whumper took the rag and stuffed it into Whumpee's mouth, then rubbed something on their nose before putting the muzzle back on.

The door opened... before Whumper could reach down for the leash Whumpee ran.

They ran as fast as their body could go.

"Get back here... I'm giving you an honorable death... you fucking....", Whumper yelled as they shot off two rounds after Whumpee.

"Crap", Whumper screamed when the gun only clicked.... signaling the gun was empty.

Off Whumpee ran into the trees. Completely hidden from view.

Whumpee ran for miles before remembering again that they had been wounded earlier.

They leaned up against the tree and took some deep breaths. Whumper did them in with forcing the rag into their mouth. They couldn't pant to cool off, and they wouldn't be able to drink water.

They tried to sniff, but nothing was coming through.

'What did they rub on my nose, I can't smell anything', Whumpee frowned, 'I won't survive for long. I can't hunt or eat, I can't drink. I can't even regulate my body temperature. Maybe I should have let them kill me. I'm not ready to die, I can't die. I will find someone, and I will be useful. I'm a good pup.'

Whumpee struggled to get up, they crawled a few feet and collapsed again.

"Ymph", Whumpee moaned weakly. They looked down at where the wound was, 'they couldn't even patch me up before killing me', Whumpee mumbled, 'I'm so tired.'

Caretaker, a avid outdoor lover, had wandered into the woods for some tree therapy. They just wanted to enjoy a small hike.

They had one rule... always carry a gun.

Whumpee woke up, and looked around. Remembering where they were.

They got up weakly and limp-crawled forward.

Their throat had become so dry. The rag was soaking up all of their saliva. It had also made swallowing a challenge.

Finally, they found a small stream. They tried to sniff it, but whatever Whumper had rubbed on them must have taken away their ability to smell.

They now couldn't tell if the water was safe to drink. They sat down in annoyance and looked at the water sadly.

'I might truly die out here', Whumpee whimpered.

Just then, Whumpee noticed a visitor come into the clearing by the stream.

Caretaker looked over the view until they noticed two eyes staring at them.

Caretaker looked at them wide-eyed as they took in their appearance.

They appeared to be one of those hybrid wolf pets. A few of their hunting friends had mentioned. They said they could be quite dangerous if cornered.

Whumpee's furry ears moved in every direction as they took in the situation. Their nose wrinkled as they sniffed the air to no avail.

"Where is your Master?", Caretaker lifted their gun, believing the poor person had been seriously injured or killed by the hybrid. They had clearly run away. Their leash and muzzle were still attached after all.

Whumpee cowarded away and whined as the gun was pointed at them. They looked sadly at the stranger.

The movement caused Whumpee to quickly reach up and hold their bullet wound. They looked over their hand for a split second and saw the fresh blood.

"Wait... you're bleeding", Caretaker lowered their gun, "what happened?"

Whumpee looked up at them sadly.

"Maybe hybrids can't talk", Caretaker sighed, "I feel like I should.... do you promise not to attack me if I help you?"

Whumpee quickly and enthusiastically nodded.

"Okay", Caretaker inched nervously to Whumpee. Their hand shook as they unlocked Whumpee's muzzle.

Whumpee quickly moved their head away from the muzzle and spit out their rag.

Caretaker studied Whumpee. They seemed to have a small dog shaped mouth, and as they started to pant to cool off, Caretaker saw their teeth.

"I-I won't hurt you", Whumpee whispered hoarsely, "I am well trained. I only attack when ordered."

"Where is your Master then?", Caretaker frowned as they pulled out a container of water, "are you thirsty?"

Whumpee quickly nodded again. They took the bottle as it was offered.

"Thankyou so much", Whumpee sighed in relief.

"My Master trained me as an attack wolf. Though it goes against the nature of us hybrids", Whumpee looked down at their wound, "earlier someone came onto my Master's property to kill them. I was ordered to protect and took a bullet before they could kill the assailant. With my injury, my Master was going to kill me. I received my last meal, they strapped that muzzle on me. Took it off to give me my toy", Whumpee paused and held up the rag, "they then rubbed something on my nose. When they opened the door, I made a run for it. They shot two rounds at me, but missed. They couldn't even patch me up before they killed me."

Caretaker listened, then nodded, "I-I'm sorry, I was accusing you of hurting your Master."

"It's okay. I-I wasn't ready to die. They made me work for love and attention. I was only a good pup when I did my job well. I didn't even get told that after being shot. I was just told that I'd served my purpose, and that I'd be dying", Whumpee for the first time that day let a tear fall, "I-I didn't want to die, I want to be someone's good pup."

Caretaker frowned, "I think the first thing is to get you out of here. I think I know where the lab is that creates you hybrids. My friends talk about it. I don't know where else to take you, so we will start there."

Whumpee nodded and tried to get up. They winced as weight went on their shoulder.

"Would it be better if I carried you?", Caretaker looked them over, "I think I'll be able to."

Whumpee nodded and watched as Caretaker packed the bottle, muzzle, and their chew rag into a bag. They lifted Whumpee to their shoulders and grabbed their gun.

"I have no idea what will happen if we see your Master though", Caretaker took a few steps.

"They wouldn't come out this far to find me", Whumpee sighed, "apparently I am now considered their expensive waste of time. They probably looked for a few minutes and gave up. They pretty much did me in anyways", Whumpee whispered.

"What do you mean?", Caretaker started to walk quickly after they found the trail.

"With that rag in my mouth and the muzzle, I wouldn't have been able to hunt or eat. The rag also soaked up saliva, and I couldn't pant. So starvation and heatstroke. They also rubbed something on my nose to take away my smelling abilities. Again I couldn't hunt, but I couldn't smell for clean water. So dehydration. Or you know some stranger comes across me and shoots me."

Caretaker looked at them sadly, "sorry about that."

"I don't blame you... I'm just saying. I could have easily died if you hadn't found me and showed mercy", Whumpee whispered tiredly, "I think the blood loss is getting to me again. I'm so tired."

"Help.. help", Caretaker ran into the lab.

"Woe... Woe. What's going on?", a scientist caught Caretaker by the arm. Several guards rushed to protect.

"Outside.... hybrid... injured.... needs help", Caretaker gasped for air. Whumpee ended up falling asleep again. They were unconscious by the time Caretaker made it to their car.

The scientist hurried out the door with Caretaker.

They frowned when they saw what shape the hybrid was in.

"I recognize them", the scientist rubbed Whumpee's head sadly, "I hope we are not too late", they lifted Whumpee out of the vehicle and took them inside.

While Whumpee was being worked on, Caretaker told a nurse about everything that had happened and what Whumpee had told them. They also showed the muzzle and rag.

The scientists came into the lounge where Caretaker had been asked to wait.

"I don't know how you did it... but you got them here before it was too late. We had maybe five minutes to spare before intervention would have done nothing. They need a lot of care and TLC, but I really appreciate you finding them", the scientists carried the notes from what Caretaker had said, "I've read through these. I will be pressing charges against their previous owner for their use of my creation."

"I feel so bad... I've heard so many scary things about these hybrids... I almost shot them", Caretaker frowned worriedly, "I thought they had done something to their master."

"There are a lot of people who don't understand these hybrids that I create. About the most dangerous thing about them is that they are good hunters. And a lot of people love to have them as hunting pets. Other than that, they are giant couch potatoes that love cuddling and playing with toys. It hurts that the only toy they had received was an old rag. What that person did goes completely against the contract they sign when they purchase a hybrid."

Caretaker looked at them, "what is this contract about."

"It protects me as the creator, but also the hybrid. They would have had to sit through a two hour lecture with me on how to care for one of them. The contract at the end has everything that was covered during that lecture. Some of which explains that they are not to be an attack or guard dog. They are domesticated and not made to do that type of work. You can not shoot them. Any purposefu damages done to them will be legally tried as both animal abuse and human assault. I have enough to lock them away for good."

Caretaker visits Whumpee with a surprise a few days later. A brand new toy, the first Whumpee has had since being taken by Whumper.

Caretaker is with Whumpee when Whumper comes in.

They received a call that Whumpee was found and needed to come to the lab. Whumper thought they were going to collect Whumpee, then would off them later.

They were surprised to walk in and be instantly taken by guards, then arrested by the police.

Whumpee prances out of a hiding spot as Whumper is being stood up. They smile big as Whumper starts cursing at them.

Caretaker pats Whumpee's head lovingly as Whumper is led away.

"I'll see you in court", the scientist frowns as Whumper is led out of the building.

"You're free from them, Whumpee", the scientist grins at Whumpee.

Around a month later.

"Hey, I was wondering, I've been coming and visiting Whumpee for a little while now. What will be done with Whumpee now?", Caretaker sat beside the scientist, and they both watched Whumpee play with their toys.

Whumpee stopped and looked up.

"Well unfortunately they may be a hard adoption to another owner because of the injuries and what their recent owner did to them. I don't think anyone will want a hybrid with guard like tendencies", the scientist sighed as Whumpee limp crawled to them and rested their chin on the scientist's knee, "I'm afraid they'll be here for a while."

Caretaker watched as Whumpee continued to lean on the scientist's knee.

"It's honestly a shame, these are so ready to become someone's pet. They train so hard for the one thing that they want... a loving family", the scientist patted Whumpee's head and watched as a tear ran down Whumpee's face, "they'll of course get love and attention here no doubt, but they're made to be a companion for someone, not just taken care of in a lab."

"What would I have to do to be able to take them from you, and give them a home?", Caretaker watched as Whumpee's head jumped up.

"I suppose I would need you to have the lecture and sign the contract", the scientist smiled weakly, "I won't make you pay. I will get everything I need from this lawsuit against Whumper. Are you sure though?"

"Yes, Whumpee has grown on me. I went from being terrified of these hybrids to falling in love with them", Caretaker winked at Whumpee, "I would be okay with the lecture and contract. If you're okay with this Whumpee."

Whumpee quickly nodded.

A few weeks past. Caretaker had finished the lecture and signed the contract. Their home was approved to have Whumpee live their. They had plenty of time to get Whumpee all kinds of surprises to come home to.

Whumpee was released that day. They were finally given a medical discharge from the lab. Only that they needed to keep their appointments now. Something Whumper never did.

Whumpee rode home in the back seat of Caretaker's car. They happily stuck their face out to take in the smells in the wind.

Finally after a while they pulled into a small neighborhood.

Whumpee looked out excitedly.

"This is the neighborhood that I live in", Caretaker smiled at them in the mirror, "a few neighbors are excited to meet you, but they'll give you a few days before hand to get settled."

Whumpee jumped out of the car and quickly sniffed around the yard.

They looked up at Caretaker happily, "my old Master didn't have grass. This feels so good."

"I'm glad to hear you say that", Caretaker grinned, "are you ready to go in?"

"I-I can go inside?", Whumpee studied Caretaker to see if they were telling the truth.

"Yes of course. Where you not allowed to before?", Caretaker unlocked the door and opened it.

"Only on special occasions", Whumpee shyly looked into the home from the edge of the doorway.

"I have a special surprise in the living room for you, but you can take your time", Caretaker smiled, "I know this is all so new."

Whumpee sniffed around the home for a little while. Caretaker let them adventure on their own.

Whumpee found Caretaker in the kitchen.

"How are you enjoying your new home?", Caretaker showed them a bowl, "are you hungry? I got lunch ready while you looked around."

Whumpee nodded excitedly. They followed Caretaker to some bowls on an elevated surface.

"There we go", Caretaker smiled as Whumpee started to eat.

"I'll be out in the living room right through there", Caretaker pointed, "your surprise is in there."

Whumpee looked up and nodded before going back to eating.

Whumpee peaked into the living room when they finished and immediately saw the gifts Caretaker had mentioned.

A new dog bed and several toys littered the floor. Caretaker had looked over from folding a blanket.

"Oh there you are", Caretaker smiled as they laid the blanket on the bed, "I hope you like all of this. You can, of course, be on the furniture. I'm putting another bed in my room as well. I'm waiting for it to be delivered."

Whumpee cautiously looked at all of the things. They stepped closer and sniffed everything.

"What do you think of it all?", Caretaker knelt on the floor and patted Whumpee's head, "do you like it?"

"Ye-yes Master... I've never had any of these things", Whumpee felt a tear fall from their eye, "this... it feels like a dream. One that I secretly hoped for, for so long."

"This isn't a dream, I promise. You will be so spoiled, even more than what they recommended. I'm so excited to have you here", Caretaker smiled as they scratched Whumpee's ears, "you're a good pup, and deserve so much."

Whumpee felt a tear role down their cheek when they heard those coveted words.

That night, Caretaker had pulled the dog bed onto the couch. Whumpee now lay on top of that. Their head on Caretaker's lap.

They laughed at Whumpee's snoring.

Caretaker gently massaged Whumpee's neck under their new collar.

They took a picture and sent it to the scientist.

The scientist texted back a little after.

"I'm glad you took them home... I was hoping you would ask, but I didn't want to put you on the spot like that. I thought you'd be a good fit. They look happy. Exactly how I hoped this would happen for all of my babies. Let me know if you need anything."

Caretaker happily continued to pet Whumpee's soft fur until they to fell asleep.

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz

@bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

@lavndvrr @ivymyers

@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

@lumpofsand @watermeezer

@indigoviolet311 @whumpy-mountains

@3-2-whump @risk606

@electrons2006 @paperprinxe

@whumprince @kaz-of-crows

@mis-graves @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94

@sausages-things @sunglasses-in-the-bentley

@isikedmyself878

[justplainwhump]

Deserved

Angel is punished.

Inspired by the wonderful @angst-after-dark, Thane and Dami are their characters.

Angel Masterlist

Content / warning: BBU, BBU Romantic, conditioned whumpee, implied future noncon, threats, multiple whumpees.

The pet - Angel - is ready for her master. She always is, just as she's meant to be. Yet, somehow, it never seems to be enough. She never seems to enough.

Something is stirring inside her, something she knows shouldn't. Good pets aren't meant to be angry. Good pets aren't disappointed. Good pets are grateful, enduring, beautiful.

She reaches for the eyeliner in front of her to adjust her makeup again, as she's done so often, in the hours she spends waiting. The beauty products Sir gets her are luxurious, she knows for some reason. The best money can buy. Just as she herself is a luxury to be kept. She's grateful for it, as a good pet should be, she thinks. At least, this make up won't mess with her skin, however often she applies and reapplies it.

The pet stares into the mirror, meets her own gaze, follows the lines of her wide smile, searches for answers in the perfectly framed dark eyes that seem so foreign to her. There's nothing there. Nothing but a longing, sad despair.

"It's not fair," a voice says behind her.

She almost breaks off the tip of the eyeliner.

Sir's other pet, Damiel, is standing behind her in the doorway, catching her gaze in the mirror. There's a hard line around their mouth. They don't smile. They rarely do. Herself, she always does.

"You shouldn't be here." Damiel's voice is low, but firm.

The pet neatly puts the cap back on the eyeliner and puts it back down, silent.

Across the mirror, Damiel's gaze runs over her bare back, and she knows what they see. Scars, beginning to form. Bruises. The new brand over her tailbone, the one that Damiel themself burned into her skin.

They swallow. "You deserve better."

The pet tilts her head. "Like what?" she asks slowly. "Like, to be loved by my owner? Loved, as he loves you?"

"Not that." They shrug. "Better."

"Sir decides, what his pets deserve."

"You're not meant to be Sir's pet."

She stands up and turns around, bites back a wince when the skin strains around the burn on her back. Her smile doesn't waver. She can easily breathe through the pain in her body. The pain throbbing behind her temples at their words is more difficult to deal with.

Her hand wanders up on her chest, to the older brand, the one over her heart, the one spelling Sir's initials, the one carried over from a past life she doesn't remember.

"But I am," she whispers. "I belong to him. I was made for him."

They frown, softly shaking their head. "He-"

"You're late, Damiel." Their owner appears in the doorframe, and the pet drops to her knees. His gaze only grazes over her for a moment, before it settles on them. Always them. Always Damiel. They're a bad pet, she thinks. They're a bad pet, saying bad things, while she's good, and still he has only eyes for them.

"Angel." She shivers, when he does say her name, his voice low and cold. "What took you so long? Did Damiel say something to upset you?"

It's a trick question. It doesn't matter what she says. He's her owner. He'll decide if it's right or wrong, if she's punished or not.

And she'll always be wrong. She'll always be punished.

Does she deserve better? She's not sure. It's odd, that Damiel is.

"Forgive me, Sir," she says softly. Lies. "They didn't. It was my fault. I smeared my eyeliner. I wanted to be pretty for you."

He reaches out for her chin, carefully tilts her head up to face him. "Oh my stupid whore Angel. They got into your little head that far already?" He runs his thumb over her lip, laughs sharply when she readily opens her mouth for him. "You're mine, Angel. Damiel is mine. They're here because I love them. And you, you are here because you deserve it."

His thumb presses onto her face, smearing her lipstick. "You are pretty for me, when your make up is a mess, Angel. You're pretty for me when you're crying and begging and suffering. You were bad, Angel, before you came here. Very bad. A slut who disrespected me. And now the two of you are disrespecting me again."

He leans in. "Tell me, bitch. What is it you deserve?"

She meets his gaze, looks into the sparkling light eyes she wants to love so desperately. I don't know, a part of her wants to yell. I don't know what I deserve, but neither should anyone else. But that part of her never wins. It knows how to stay silent, and to give in to the comfort of clear and simple answers that make the world so much simpler. That she deserves whatever Thane Barlow wants to give her. And he always wants one thing.

"I deserve punishment," she whispers.

Sir smiles and lightly pats her cheek, as he turns to the other pet. "That's right, Damiel, don't you agree? Our stupid Angel deserves punishment, because she got so confused, she forgot the hierarchy in this household. A good whipping, maybe. 20 lashes. You do it, Damiel. And when you deliver her to my bed later, and I look at that well shaped backside of hers, I expect to see that you didn't hold back." He smiles. "I expect to see you gave her what she deserves."

Their pause is tiny, but the pet notices it still.

"Yes," Damiel says then. "Yes, Sir."

---

-

Angel tag list (ask to be added or removed): @whumplr-reader

[parasiticstars]

Minotaur whumpee, anyone?

It’s rushed but it got what’s important. His name is Ishaan.

He’s in his 40s or 50s and is heavily based off of a dzo. His fur is black with some white on his face, chest, and legs and his skin is a brownish-grey. His throat makes it so he can’t talk (only bellow), but he can understand Nepali and spotty English.

He’s also just straight up not having a good time.

[whumpninja]

tried to save this for spooky season but screw it, vampires in summer. who cares. definitely not me.

Featuring: five (5) hot n’ evil vampire whumper ladies, one (1) sad wet cat of a bloodbag whumpee, blood drinking described in stupid amounts of lurid detail, THIS IS GRAPHIC FOLKS, blood drinking from places other than the neck, slit wrist, magic hypnotism (what do you call that thing vampires do where they control people?? that. it’s whatever that is), magic healing, discussions of mercy killing, dehumanization, creepy pet names

sweet william

The blood ran slick down her throat, warm and wet and syrupy. Thick enough to savor, but thin enough to flow. Right now it was still a stream of crimson, but in a short while it would be no more than a trickle. A little had spilled down her chin; she straightened up and dabbed away the red spot with her sleeve. Then, sighing with pleasure, she bent her head and continued her meal.

“Morgana, you have to share.”

“Mine is the right to begin, Selene.” Morgana bit down again, harder this time, feeling the moment her sharp fangs pierced through the soft skin. She watched the twin rivulets roll down from the wounds and licked the drops of blood up just before they fell onto the stone. “Tradition doesn’t say when I have to stop.”

“Before you kill it, I should hope,” Annabel said blandly from her seat at the other end of the cave. A rat perched on her head, another sat on her shoulder, and two more slept in her lap. She had at least a dozen. “We can hardly get another out here.”

“Lilah keeps trying,” Selene replied. She stood leaning against the wall, toying with the little knife she insisted on carrying with her. “She’s out there now, hoping to stumble across fresh meat. I don’t think she likes this one much.”

“Oh, I can’t imagine why.” That was Lucy, sitting on the floor at Annabel’s feet, humming a little song to herself. “This one’s so good and sweet. Isn’t it almost Annabel’s turn, Morgana?”

“Vultures!” Morgana complained, raising her head. She felt the way the blood dripped from her chin, the way her sisters stared hungrily at the scarlet droplets. “Can't you let me eat in peace?”

“No,” replied Lucy, in a voice like sugar. Her big, soft eyes were no longer black, as they had been the day before. They now shone a dark wine color and were getting brighter as her need for blood crept up on her. In a few hours they would be glowing hot and red, and she would attack the first living thing she saw. Selene’s brown eyes and Annabel’s hazel ones were also beginning to redden. Sometimes the bloodthirst was useful. But when they were trying so hard not to be discovered, they dared not risk letting themselves fall into that state.

With a sigh, Morgana stood. Power rushed like a river through her- she didn’t know what it was about this human, but his blood rejuvenated her like no others had. She would have had to drain a full-grown man dry in order to get the same effect a few mouthfuls of this one’s blood had on her.

And, of course, she had had much more than a few mouthfuls. She’d taken nearly half. It was her right as leader of the coven- the right to begin the feast, and the right to drink her fill.

Annabel was next by right of seniority- she was older than the rest of them put together. Morgana stepped back from the stone shelf that served as their table, letting the elder take her place. While Morgana preferred to take her time and savor her meals, Annabel was more brisk about it. Morgana didn’t feel the need to watch her sister eat; she’d seen it dozens of times.

So instead, she watched the human.

He was a soft little thing, as timid as a rabbit. They’d had him a year already, and yet she thought she would never be tired of seeing the fear in his big brown eyes. She loved the way his brows knit together in the middle, how his frightened eyes darted back and forth, how his chest rose and fell in terrified gulps of air. They didn’t need to restrain him anymore. At first, they’d had to tie him down on the stone table, and even then he had thrashed like a calf being butchered. Morgana had begun using her magic to force him to lie still, and that had worked beautifully. Now, she hardly even needed to use that.

Annabel craned her neck and sank her fangs into the meat of the human’s shoulder. A little moan broke from his lips as the blood started to flow. Only Morgana was allowed to drink from his neck- the most vulnerable place, the traditional area for biting. The others had their favorite spots, but his throat belonged to her alone.

Annabel was quick about it. She drank down several deep mouthfuls, sighing in pleasure, and then took a small clay dish and let it fill with blood. “Thank you, dearie,” she said happily, patting the boy’s head. She set the dish down on the cave floor and made little kissing noises, and all twelve of her rats came scampering over to drink.

Privately Morgana thought that was disgusting; the little creatures could find their own food. Her lovely cat Clover got along fine hunting squirrels and mice in the woods, not drinking blood with her mistress. But Annabel’s business was Annabel’s business. If she wanted to share her meal with her pets, that was her affair.

“Hurry up, I can’t wait any longer!” exclaimed Lucy. Annabel picked up the empty dish and sat back down in her chair, rats swarming over her. Lucy was up now, her eyes bright with hunger.

Selene raised an eyebrow at the younger vampiress. “If Lilah were here you’d have to wait even more,” she pointed out.

“Well, she’s not. So eat and then let me have my turn!”

Selene shrugged and peeled herself away from the wall, sidling up to the stone table. The human recognized her even in his dazed stupor; Morgana saw the flicker of fear that lit in his eyes. Selene never used her fangs.

Selene looked down at the human for a moment, then set the blade of her dagger against his wrist and slit the vein. The cry that tore out of the boy’s mouth was music. His back arched, and his head twisted to the side, his eyes filling with tears. His legs curled in on themselves and straightened out again, a long-buried instinct to fight back awakening only to die again. Selene rarely bothered with magic, even to keep a victim still. She liked to watch them struggle. Theirs never really fought anymore, not like he once had, but there were still the little helpless writhings of a creature in pain, and Selene enjoyed those as much as she would have liked a true scuffle. She kept her eyes on the human as she bent down to drink, a smile tugging at her lips.

Selene was messy about it, too. The blood spurting from the opened artery got everywhere, which would have driven Morgana mad but didn’t seem to bother Selene one bit. She had remarked once that she liked the feeling of blood splattering her face; it reminded her of a fresh kill.

And speaking of- “Careful, Selene,” Morgana warned, low under her breath. The boy was getting a little too pale for her liking. She didn’t want him to die just yet, and he was so fragile. Taking too much blood could very well be the end for him.

Selene raised her head. “We need a new one,” she said firmly. “If we can’t even get a good meal without it dying on us-“

“If you want more blood, go and find a farmer to eat,” Morgana shot back. “I like this one. You will not kill him. Not yet.”

Selene stared at her for another moment with narrowed eyes, then stood up, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. “Fine. Lucy, your turn.”

“Finally!” Lucy jumped up and smoothed back her long black hair. “You took forever, Selene.” She sidled up to the boy, her eyes sharp and hungry. Morgana watched as she ran a gentle hand down his cheek. “Poor darling,” Lucy cooed. “She was cruel to make you feel all that.” With her other hand, Lucy wove a sigil of vampire magic in the air, pressing her fingers to the human’s forehead. For a moment he thrashed again. Then the magic took hold, and his body slumped to the stone. His brown eyes glazed over, and a little smile curved his lips. Lucy beamed. “There, sweetheart, isn’t that better?” She moved down the table, keeping a hand on the boy, until she got to her own favored drinking place. “This won’t hurt a bit, darling,” she promised.

Lucy licked her lips and bit down harder than even Morgana had, her fangs burying themselves in the meat of the human’s thigh. There was another artery there, and she severed it easily, letting the blood spray into her mouth for a moment before she bent her head to truly drink. If he hadn’t been enchanted, Morgana knew the boy would be screaming with pain. But Lucy’s magic made it so he felt nothing but pleasure and perhaps a little sting. Lucy liked her victims to think they were enjoying it.

She was, perhaps, the most dangerous one of them all.

Lucy took her time- not so long as Morgana had, but longer than Annabel and Selene. She kept stopping to glance at the human’s face, stupefied into a smile. Morgana wondered how far she’d taken it- had she only made him believe he was enjoying being fed on? Or had she woven some sort of illusion for him to lie in, dreaming that something else entirely was happening? She could do both. Morgana didn’t see the point, herself- it was almost kinder to let him feel it, let him know what was happening. As soon as Lucy was finished, the pain and the reality would both come back to bite him. Ha. Morgana smiled at the inward joke.

Lucy finished at last, snapping her fingers to release the spell she’d laid. The glaze on the boy’s eyes faded, and Morgana watched them fill back up with pain. He glanced almost frantically around the cave, unable to remember what had just happened. All he knew was that it hurt.

Watching that was almost as delicious as the blood itself.

Morgana almost stepped forward to take him off the table, but a voice interrupted her. “You started supper without me?”

The last of their little band came into the cave’s main room in a jingling swirl of gold beads and black braids. Lilah was humming, so Morgana knew she wasn’t truly angry.

“Did you find another one?” Selene asked.

Lilah pouted. “No. I think they’re watching for me now, after last time.”

Last time had been when Lilah had encountered a hunter in the forest and politely asked him if he wanted to be eaten. She’d been lucky not to be shot. Poor Lilah, Morgana thought. The young vampire tried so hard, but she just hadn’t gotten her head wrapped around- well, anything. A little simple, Selene had once said of her, and Morgana thought secretly that perhaps she was right.

“Go on and eat, little sister,” she said aloud. “You’re last, I’m afraid.”

Lilah shrugged, tossing her satchel to the side. “I don’t mind.” She practically skipped to the stone table, tipping her head as she looked at the human. “I’ll be quick, chickie, don’t worry.”

Lilah hadn’t really gotten the hang of magic yet, so she didn’t bother bespelling the boy. She also didn’t care that drinking from major arteries was much easier than drinking from anywhere else. Her claimed spot was a vein in the chest. Morgana watched as she bit down into it, the human gasping and writhing beneath her. Lilah mumbled something around her fangs.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” said Annabel reproachfully.

Lilah popped her head up. “I said, I’m going to try not to take too much. He seems tired.” She bit again, closer to the boy’s heart, and began her noisy meal. True to her word, she didn’t take long and didn’t take much. She hopped off the human with a little sigh and went to go dig in her satchel for whatever she’d found on her adventure.

Now that they’d all eaten, it was Morgana’s turn once more. She came to the stone table, looking down at their human.

The boy lay very still. Blood pumped sluggishly from the wounds they’d made, spilling red over his skin. His eyes were distant, unfocused, tears of pain streaming down his face unheeded. He’d given them everything he had to give.

Poor child. Five vampires were a lot to satisfy. Morgana raised her hands, weaving a healing sigil over him. Only she could do this part.

She took the finished spell in her hand and set it against each of his wounds in turn. The ragged punctures- and Selene’s cut- knit themselves back together at the touch of her magic, leaving dark bruises that would turn to scars in time. There had to be scars, with vampire magic. It never healed all the way.

The boy was too dazed and tired to react to the magic- he was used to it by now. Morgana helped him to sit up. “There, lamb, it’s over now,” she murmured. “You were so good for us, sweet. So good.”

Across the cave Selene scoffed.

The boy didn’t seem to hear. Morgana brushed the sweat-soaked curls away from his forehead, and he leaned into her touch like Clover often did, his eyes fluttering closed. “There now, little lamb,” Morgana said soothingly. “You did so well.”

“We need a new one,” Selene said. Her dagger blade flashed in the light as she toyed with it. “This one’s nearly spent. It gets weaker every time we eat. It’s been spelled stupid. I doubt it even knows its own name.”

“Oh, hush,” Morgana said. “You know your name, don’t you, lamb? I say it often enough. He’s our dear sweet William.”

There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes when she said his name, she was sure of it. He’d be all right once he recovered, and they wouldn’t need to eat again for about a week. Soon he’d be back to his usual self, scurrying about the cave doing his chores, perhaps making a saucy comment or two when he felt brave.

With the fingertips of her free hand Morgana wove a tiny command sigil and set it on the back of his hand. “Go and rest now, little lamb,” she said, and he obeyed instantly. She watched him stumble to the fireplace at the side of the cave- Lilah had managed to bring along a Persian rug when they’d had to flee into the woods, and the boy slept there now. He almost fell onto the rug, curling up with an adorable little sigh. He was asleep in moments.

“You might have had him put his shirt back on,” remarked Annabel.

Morgana tossed her dark curls irritably. “My, how clever we are today. Does anyone else have an opinion on how to run this coven they’d like to share? Lucy? Lilah?”

Lucy took the hint and wisely shook her head.

“Now that you mention it, I think we all ought to have a picnic once a month,” said Lilah.

Morgana rolled her eyes. “I can’t tell if you’ve spent too much time in the woods or not enough.” She leaned down to pick up Clover, who was rubbing her legs and meowing for attention. The cat bumped her little black head against Morgana’s chin as she continued. “Regardless, I am the leader of this clan. We’ll get a new blood source when I say we will. And that’s the end of it.” She looked around, daring any of them to challenge her.

None of them did.

Satisfied, Morgana set Clover down and went to the fireplace, crouching by the sleeping boy’s side. She couldn’t explain what drew her about this one compared to the many others she’d drained in her long un-life. He was just…special.

Selene had come up behind her, looking over her shoulder at the dying fire. “Morgana,” she said in a low voice so the others couldn’t hear. She took up the poker and stabbed at the logs. They’d need more wood soon, but the human wasn’t in any shape to be collecting firewood just yet. “You know it would be a mercy to kill it. It’s barely clinging to life. We can find a better one easily and let this one rest.”

Morgana sighed. “I know. But he’s…I can’t explain it, Selene. He’s special. There’s something about him. The taste of his blood. The way he looks at us with those big, scared eyes. The way he even has the ability to feed five vampires without dying. I can’t let go of him yet.”

“When you decide you’re ready, I’ll do it for you,” Selene offered. “I’ll make it quick. Painless. It’d be a kindness to him, Morgana. And better for us too.”

Morgana answered with a noncommittal hum.

Selene wandered away, likely to do something frightening with knives. At the back of the cave, Annabel sat in the old rocking chair they’d found, petting her rats. Lucy was embroidering something, stitching spiderwebs onto it in black thread. Lilah slouched cross-legged with her back to the bloodstained stone table, sorting through whatever junk she’d brought back from the woods.

Morgana retrieved the boy’s threadbare white shirt from the side of the cave and gently draped it over him. “I won’t let her kill you,” she said softly. “No, you’ll stay with us for a long time yet. I’m already looking forward to our next meal.” She brushed aside the black curls and wove a dream sigil for him, laying it on his forehead. The furrows in his brow eased, and Morgana smiled. “Sleep soft and dream sweet, little lamb,” she whispered. “My sweet William.”

[nerdyanimefan]

⚫🖤INTRO POST🖤⚫

First things first

Name: Akira (not my irl name just call me that 😁)

Age: 25

Gender: Female

DNI: Minors, Radqueers and pro contact paraphiles.

LINKS:

COME TO MY STRAWPAGE

X/Twitter its backkkk

BLUESKY still gonna keep it up. Mostly gonna post in portugues now...🇧🇷

Ao3: NerdyDekuSimp

DeviantArt

My Chub is @ hollow_hospital_7703

Chub is nsfw chat site 100% free

Things about me:

I like art anything about it writing, painting and drawing stuff like that.

✈I'm an avgeek!✈ (planes are cool)

I love anime, cartoons and cop/medical TV drama.

☁️BACKROOMS, LIMINAL SPACES, WEIRDCORE, DREAMCORE ☁️

I love whump its just the best!

Some of my favorite tropes are:

Pet Whump

Kidnapping

Torture/ Punishment

Body horror (broken bones, amputation)

Forced family / Perental Whumper(the evil version of found family)

Defiant Whumpee

Hurt/ Comfort

Whumper is also Caretaker.

Lab whump

Medical whump

I'm not into:

Rape/ non con (i like it sometimes but its very rare)

Child whump (unless its a happy ending) older teen years is fine.

Anything involing abortion, pregnancy and things involing babies. (Be it fictional I'm just not comfortable with it).

Dead Whumpee or caretaker.

I love to whump my favorite fictional characters.

Deku is my #1 victim. He's just so whumpable look at him:

kiddnaping, torture and forcing him to be my son is my favorite ways to whump him.

🔵The owner of this blog proship now, and is NOT an anti anymore, proshippers welcome!🍖🌈🔵

🔴Fun fact it was the proshippers that made me more comfortable admiting that I whump Deku, thats its okay to like dark themes in fiction, he's a fictional character, I shouldn't feel shame since its a fictional setting so if i want to hurt him i can. 🤷🏽‍♀️ Thanks proshippers.😁🔴

please don't think that's weird

So expect some Deku whump from this blog

And if you think thats messed up. The block button is right there 💋

I don't only post whump i will every now and again post things about planes, art, liminal spaces and memes.

This about it!

[whump-bunny]

Fantasy Whump ideas that I'm feral about:

- Newborn vampire who doesn't want to drink blood, forced to by older vampire/sire

- Human gets kidnapped by the Fae for being pretty and gets treated like a doll/pet

- Mermaid trapped in big fish tank for human viewing pleasure

- young/inexperienced Fae gets tricked into a bad promise that they cannot break.

- anything having to do with an immortal whumpee (and bonus if there's an immortal whumper)

[whumpsday]

October 2023 - Vampire Whump!

thought i'd go ahead and make a rec post with some of the actively-updating vampire whump series out there!

🦇 🦇 🦇

A New Beginning by @a-crumb-of-whump - "23 year old Ryker comes to visit his parents with plans to take the family “pet” home with him." [vampire whumpee]

Bloodbag by @whumpy-writings - "Tobias is a vampire, living out his boring nights in the city of Cesvic. His life is turned upside down when he rescues a human called Bloodbag." (Side story to Of Vampires and Men) [vampire caretaker]

From Dust to Ashes by @clickerflight - Two intertwining stories: "Joseph watched his closest friend die at the hands of cultists, who then carved out his heart and kept buried him in a silver box. Recovery is not easy." / "5000 years ago, a hippo hunter was hunted down and chained to a pole in the sun. When he is discovered, his rescuer turns out to not have good intentions with what she plans to do with him." [vampire whumpees]

Magnanimous Moonrise & Savage Sunset and Savage Sunset Choose Your Own Adventure by @not-a-space-alien - "Alexis and Ariana are partners and vampire hunters, trying to protect as many people as they can from the horrors of a world where vampires see humans as cattle, fair game for being snatched up and taken home as food. Valen is a vampire on a mission…one which unfortunately puts him at odds with vampire hunters, who aren't happy about such a creature being so deep within their territory." (The main story is on hiatus, but the interactive story is actively updating!) [vampire whumpee]

The Forgotten Heirs by @cupcakes-and-pain - "When the Duke’s youngest daughter, Blair, did not develop persuasion or hunting instincts, they all but abandoned her. Eric, her older brother, was the only one in her family that ever acknowledged her. When Eric mysteriously disappears, she is forced to accept the untimely demise, grieve, and move on best she can. Meanwhile, a lonely enslaved Eric is passed around from cruel owner to cruel owner, longing for home and slowly breaking under the stress." [vampire whumpee]

The Rare Bookseller by @oliversrarebooks - "The story of Oliver, a seller of rare books who is kidnapped and sold at a high-end auction for vampires to purchase thralls." [vampire whumpers]

one nontraditional rec: i've recently posted one of the prologues from the ttrpg Vampire the Masquerade: Chapters, which is chock-full of vampire whump. love this game and thought vampire whumpblr might enjoy this part of it. you can read it here! [vampire whumpee, vampire whumpers]

🦇 🦇 🦇

feel free to comment with more recommendations!