#non human whumper

[avvail-whumps]

Royal Bought: Sampling #5

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content warnings: vampire whump, defiant whumpee, human auction house, captivity, manhandling, minor blood

The vampire’s grasp was unrelenting, but that was to be expected when Luke had done something as stupid as spit in his face. 

He could still taste the sticky glob of blood between his teeth, pooling from his split lip, a numbing, throbbing sensation having replaced the aching pain by now. The tip of his boots clipped against the edge of the stairs as he was unceromiously hoisted up, his eyes watering. 

Luke heard the clang of the door being pushed open, revealing a more modern interior as he was led — or better yet, dragged — down the corridor. It was buzzing with workers passing by, mostly vampires, but even then, Luke caught a glimpse of some of the blank faced humans working obediently. 

It sent a shiver down his spine. 

No one really paid attention to them, all except the occasional glance, no doubt due to Luke’s bloodied face and the way he was being manhandled down the corridor. Was it uncommon for humans to fight back? He didn’t think it was that, so much. They were merely glancing at him as if he was this wild, untamed dog with no manners. 

The vampire eventually came to a stop in front of a door, pushing Luke inside the room with a hard shove. He staggered, the grip on his hair having been released, a cry of relief coming from his sore scalp. The door was shut behind him, and even though Luke wanted to wrench his head around and send a deadly glare towards the creature, he was more taken aback by one sat on a comfortable looking couch in front of him. 

This vampire looked older, his lips pulled into a calming smile. 

The room was strange to Luke. He had grown up in a camp in the middle of the wilderness, making use of anything they could around them to live. There were things in here that he had never seen before - more namely, the light source of the room. There were no windows here, and yet, the place was not shrouded in darkness. 

Luke’s eyes wandered around in confusion. 

“Welcome,” the older vampire hummed kindly, gesturing to the space in front of him. “Please, take a seat.”

There was a table with rectangular sheets of paper and what seemed to be some sort of small kit of tools. Luke’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, throwing a subtle glance over his shoulder. The previous creature had closed the door behind him, remaining in the room. He was looking at Luke with disdain etched into those hardened features.

“There’s no need to be afraid,” the older vampire lulled, drawing Luke’s attention back to him like a magnet. He swallowed uneasily at the pleasant aura the vampire was exuding. His voice was soothing and calm. Why? Wasn’t he here to be sold off? “I know this all might be a little new and confusing for you. Let me introduce myself: my name is Silvan. And you must be Luke.” 

Luke shifted uncomfortably at the knowledge of his name, uttered with such confidence. Silvan must have been quite an old vampire, considering the skin on his pale face was slightly weathered, and there were hundreds of years lingering in his eyes. He was wearing a tailored suit, black on dark raspberry sorbet, contrasted against his greying hair. 

Silvan’s eyes were intense, even when Luke wasn’t looking at them, and it was like they were stripping every personal detail from him with ease. His voice was like smooth velvet when he spoke, low, dulcet tones coming from his tongue.  

“You lived beyond the Collared Forest, am I correct?” 

The first vampire moved silently behind him, as if his feet didn’t even touch the ground. When Luke glanced at him again, he had retreated from the door, boxing him in. Unlike Silvan, this was a clear warning to sit down and do as he was told. 

Luke’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, the taste of copper still fresh on his tongue. Against his better judgement, his legs managed to gain some of their strength back, and he begrudgingly circled around the plush couch, sitting opposite the older vampire. The material was incredibly soft, and Luke wondered what it was made from, how it was shaped in such a peculiar way, and if everything here was this comfortable. 

“Why do you care?” Luke gritted out, his narrowed eyes watching the older vampire like a hawk as he reached for some soft tissues out of a box, holding them out for him to take. He didn’t. 

“Ah, I’ll take that as a yes then, I suppose,” he mused, brow cocked in amusement. His pointed eyes flitted over to the other vampire with a hum. “His blood?” 

“He was misbehaving,” he sniffed codly, nose turned up. “He’s ill mannered and has a ridiculous temperment.” 

Luke was almost offended. They were talking about him as if he couldn’t hear them. 

“The scent will spread fast, Silas,” the older vampire sighed deeply, his head tilted and hands back in his lap. He didn’t look like he was even considering Luke’s blatant rudeness for ignoring the tissues handed to him. 

“So do rumours,” Silas spoke smoothly. “It won’t matter in the end.” 

Luke’s fingers twisted into his thighs. The older vampire’s gaze had almost softened for a brief moment when his eyes wandered back over to him, as if remembering that Luke was here and they had a job to do. Judging by the kit on the table and the way the other boy had informed him that humans were hoarded off for “sampling”, he figured this was exactly that. A sampling of his blood to determine if he was expensive produce, he didn’t doubt. 

“The process can be pleasant if you just behave,” Silvan smiled warmly, speaking to him as though he would be inclined to take him up on that advice. “You’re very important to us. We don’t want to have to hurt you to keep you in line.” 

He found that hilarious; vampires weren’t exactly a beacon of truth. The sticky blood on his face and the numbness of his lip was a reminder that they had no issue hurting their livestock if it meant keeping them in line. 

“Bullshit,” Luke hissed, his nose wrinkling in disdain. “Important? You’re selling us off like cattle.” 

“Cattle?” The older vampire mused. “You’re not cattle. We pride ourselves on taking care of our merchandise. We make sure you’re all healthy, fed well, given the proper care and attention when you need it.” 

“You sell us,” Luke breathed, his voice almost breathless from even having to utter such horrifying words. 

“What happens when you’re bought has nothing to do with us,” Silvan informed firmly, as if that justified the crowd of humans they had awaiting their horrible fate down below. “But here, Luke, you’re safe. If you don’t behave, then we, unfortuantly, have to take the necessary precautions to keep you in line.” 

Luke licked his lip. The flesh flared with a raging intensity for a brief moment, and he could map out the distinct tear. Almost to make a point. Silvan noticed it, but he didn’t comment, head tilted in curiosity. 

“Physical violence will, of course, be enforced if you don’t cooperate,” the older vampire hummed. “But as I’m sure you know, we have much better, and much tamer, methods. They can feel good.” 

He made sure he wasn’t looking at Silvan’s eyes. He felt himself shivering at the memories of Justinian’s compulsion, not wanting his own bodily autonomy to be stripped away from him like that so easily. 

“Feel good?” He echoed bitterly. 

“Of course,” Silvan smiled. “Some things can be quite euphoric. Compulsion can relax the mind and the body. Even a feeding, if handled properly, can feel good for you, too.” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“Many humans quite enjoy it,” the older vampire chuckled softly. “They offer themselves up willingly. That’s the price of cooperation in this place. As a human who grew up beyond the Collared Forest, I don’t expect you to understand fully just yet.” 

Luke’s chest bubbled with an irritated scoff. His leg was bouncing anxiously at a continuous pace. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” He growled slowly, not missing the way Silvan gestured to Silas for a brief moment, who stepped around the table to collect the tissues the older vampire handed to him. Luke suddenly went tense on the couch when Silas turned to face him again. 

“You are somewhat of delicacy,” Silvan hummed, treading carefully as if he was pondering on the words as he said them. “It’s rare for there to be humans who lived so far from our territory here. You’ll cause quite a stir in the markets once word spreads around. Especially if the scent of your blood is anything to go off.” 

His fingers twitched, itching to reach for his necklace and squeeze it tight for any sort of stability. His heart began racing even faster than before, throwing him for a loop. His adrenaline surged as Silas stepped closer. 

“Am I supposed to appreciate that? That I’m good money for you?” He hissed coldly, leaning away from the vampire as prowled closer. “Stay away from me.” 

His demands were ignored. 

“You want to sample this blood?” Silas asked, his nose wrinkling in disgust at the sight of Luke’s face. A hand closed around his forearm, yanking him back across the couch with a force that gave his shoulder an ache and his skull a wobble. 

“No,” Silvan hummed, rising from the seat himself, and leaning down to collect something sharp from the tool kit in front of him. “I’d like it fresh from the vein. But, please. Wipe his face - and let him struggle.” 

Maybe it was a cruel demonstration of how no matter how hard Luke fought against this, there was nothing he could do against them. No matter how many times he thrashed, ignored the throbbing pain from the tight holds, or retaliated with his own kicks and smacks, there was nothing he could do. 

Silas had him easily pinned down on his back, one single hand locking his wrists together above his head. The vampire’s knee crushed into his ribs, pressing down uncomfortably onto his lungs, careless of Luke’s comfort as he wiped the blood from his face. Luke’s legs kicked out, breathing heavily between clenched teeth, screaming muffled curses and insults against the hand clamped over his mouth, tissues soaking up any fresh blood from his wound. 

Silvan was hovering over him now, and Silas easily wrenched his head to the side, exposing the flesh of his neck. Goosebumps exploded across the expanse of skin, and squeezed his eyes shut tight.

“It’ll sting only for a moment,” Silvan warned him calmly, the feeling of cold hands prodding against his neck making him squeal. He felt a sharp prick, his body seizing against his own will. The older vampire pressed something cold against the area, gave it a couple swipes, and then drew away. Silas’ disgruntled expression darkened for a second, letting Luke stew in the position for a moment, before finally letting go of him. 

He slapped a hand to his neck, sitting up so fast he’d almost gone dizzy. 

“What did you do?” He snapped, his voice still trembling from the hysterics he’d built himself up to. His heart was pounding hard against his ribs. Silvan pinched the small, blood coated needle with his fingers, opting to ignore Luke for a moment. He swiped the needle swiftly against his tongue, giving himself a moment to taste the blood. Silvan then hummed, folded the needle between a white napkin, and placed it down on the table. 

“Interesting,” he merely commented, and Luke awkwardly rubbed the side of his neck. “Though, I am not suprised. It’s guaranteed his blood will attract many well-off vampires.” 

Silas dumped the bloody tissues in the bin. He didn’t look pleased by the situation at all, his eyes darkened and his expression grim. He wasn’t fatigued by Luke’s struggle at all, having not even broken a sweat, it seemed, or put in hardly enough effort to even quicken his breathing compared to him, who was still trying to catch his breath. 

“He’s rabid,” Silas sneered. “Doesn’t matter how attractive his blood is. No one will take him with such an imputent temperament. None that could match the price, certainly.” 

Silvan took a seat once more, throwing one leg over the other languidly as he observed Luke with those gleaming eyes, as if calculating exactly what he had in store for him. He clenched his jaw, trying not to let any slither of fear pass over his face. He didn’t want to give them the satisfaction if his fight caused them this much trouble. Luke wasn’t going to make himself easy to sell. 

“We have plenty of time to prepare before the auction,” Silvan informed, though he seemed to be talking to Luke as well. He refused to catch his eye. “We’ll give you an opportunity to settle into your circumstances, Luke. I understand this is difficult for you, but there is no denying the inevitable.” 

Bitter resentment, as well as this cold, crackling helplessness cut through him like a knife. His voice had almost lost its strength. “Fuck you…”  

Silvan only smiled warmly. 

“I’ll be sending you to Ileana, now,” he explained, his hands interlocked on his lap casually. “She will take care of everything from there. She’s be your handler, and believe me, our aim here is to take very good care of you. You’ll be provided quality food, clothes, and a room to stay.” 

Luke bristled. “Lucky me, huh?” 

Silas’ eyes narrowed an inch. “She will also be teaching you how to best accommodate your master, or mistress. It won’t be good for you to misbehave, Luke. We’re giving you the benefit of the doubt because of your…” He gave him a subtle once over. “...unique upbringing, but push your luck, and we will, unfortunately, have to risk completely stripping your mind.” 

He remembered the humans he’d seen down the corridor. Lifeless eyes, blank faces, mindlessly following their orders. An empty shell to be used. A horrible shiver rolled down his spine at the thought, and he was sure Silvan caught on to the way his heartbeat quickened.

“You don’t want that, do you, Luke?” 

“I don’t want any of this,” he croaked. 

“Well,” Silvan hummed, unsympathetic. “That is something you will have to come to terms with.” 

The older vampire suddenly straightened, glancing at a unique looking contraption on his wrist. Luke eyed it wearily. 

“We need to press on and sample the rest of the humans,” Silvan smiled, his gaze flickering over to Silas with a beaming smile. “Please take him to Ileana and bring me the next one.” 

Luke’s expression soured when Silas grasped his arm tightly, yanking him onto his feet. He gave a firm tug, but he wasn’t going to shake the vampire’s grip from him, not without a miracle. He could feel Silvan watching him go intently, his voice rising when he got to the door. 

“Good luck, Luke,” the older vampire grinned, flashing his fangs. His voice went right through him, making his stomach twist. “Have a pleasant stay.”

tag list – @whumpatize-me-captain @whump-me-all-night-long @softvampirewhump @d-cs @obsessednerd505 @suspicious-whumping-egg @sapphirechao @sparrowsage @excessive-vampires

#royal bought #whump #whump writing #whump fic #whump series #whump snippet #whump scenario #whumpblr #whump community #vampire whump #human whumpees #non human whumper #whumper #whumpee #writing #my writing #avvail whumps #i can't wait for the collection of recurring instances where luke gets really confused by modern things #because imagine him using a functioning toilet for the first time 💀

[whumpsoda]

I raise to the anon that raised to the other anon

The two separate enthralled whumpee’s being put on a playdate to interact. Like the whumper’s are friends and maybe the first whumper have the second advice on how to effectively thrall someone.

Two whumpee’s both who are of reduced to pets being infatuated with each other. For the first time since enthrallment, they’re subtly trying to engage with the other and the whumper’s think it’s adorable.

WOHEO Masterlist

When I tell you I GIGGLED when I saw this

I really hope this is to your satisfaction :3

cw: dehumanization, pet whump

———————————————————————

“How was the trip over?”

As the two vampires exchanged pleasantries and small talk, the human delicately removed his glossy shoes, placing them on the dedicated rack. After taking care of his master’s shoes as well, he stood attentively, listening into the light conversation.

Nevan’s master had allowed for him to accompany him outside the mansion for the first time, at the request of his master’s close friend. They had apparently mentioned wanting a friend for their own thrall, and had considered Nevan was fit for the job.

The idea of socializing made him buzz, out of both excitement and raw nervousness.

A moment of awkward chatting soon passed, and Adrastus turned to him. “Good evening, Nevan, I am absolutely delighted Darius finally brought you over.” 

Nevan slightly bowed his head, flustered from the sweetness coating the vampires voice. “Good evening, sir. It’s a pleasure to have been invited.” The vampire giggled sweetly, a hint of condescension glazing the noise. 

They hooked a finger below Nevan’s chin, inspecting his face with a content smile. Nevan was enamored with the vampire, their strong aura of vampiric persuasion already making him dizzy. 

He was instantly snapped out of the beginnings of a trance by the sound of his own master’s thick voice. “You had better remember the only reason you’ve left the house is because you have proved exceptionally good lately.” Nevan’s heart lifted at the praise.

“But, if you break that streak, you are not leaving the mansion until I bury you.” He watched terrified as his master stared into him with piercing eyes, more so distraught over the idea of displeasing his master rather than death. He nodded vigorously.

“Oh, Darius, give the boy a break. I highly doubt a cutie like him will do anything worthy of such a threat.” Adrastus caressed the human’s chin tenderly, before pulling away and giving their friend a playful glance. Darius simply rolled his eyes. 

“Where’s yours?” He questioned. 

The vampire clapped their hands together giddily, a beaming smile on their face. “Follow me! I am utterly thrilled that the two of you will get the chance to meet him!” 

They led the way to a pair of elegant wood doors, the others following quick behind. “This is my bedroom, where my dearest spends most of his time,” as they spoke the vampire gently opened the doors, ready to quietly slip in. “Give me just one moment to wake him up a bit.” 

After minutes of silent waiting, Adrastus energetically whisked the doors open. “Come in, come in!” 

Nevan entered behind his master, basking in the view of the extravagance of the bedroom. Everything looked as if it could cost more than himself, and it probably did. His eyes trailed immediately to the lush, gigantic bed, only to land on someone sprawled on top. 

The man was adorned with a lavish, fanciful dress, one similar to that pf which Nevan wore. He had shorter, messier cut hair, a face prickled with tiny hairs, and even while curled up loosely, he still appeared to be much larger than Nevan. He had intertwined himself in the fluffiest of blankets, as well as a mountain of the cutest stuffed toys.

Nevan studied the other thrall, admittedly a tad bit jealous, which of course he would never admit. Adrastus must have noticed him eyeing the man, thus grabbing his hand and pulling him over to the bed. 

“Let me introduce you two. My precious has been so very excited to meet you!” They yanked him to the side of the bed, inches away from the thrall occupying it. 

Adrastus crouched to the thrall’s level, affectionately stroking Malak’s face, and brushing stray hair strands away from his tired eyes. “Wakey wakey, love. No going back to bed right now, okay?” The human groaned quietly, slowly opening his heavy eyelids. With glossy, brown, doe-eyes, he stared adoringly at his own master. 

Something bitter and unfamiliar began to coat Nevan’s stomach, sour and acidic. Maybe if he was that cute, his master would treat him like Adrastus did. Like a beloved pet rather than an irritating burden. 

Adrastus placed one soft hand on Nevan’s arm, dissipating his difficult thoughts. “Pet, this is Nevan! That other little thrall I told you about!” They gestured to him, leading the human on the bed to lazily shift his gaze. Nevan gave him a small, polite wave.

Adrastus smiled, turning to him, ruffling their own human’s shaggy mess of hair. “This, is Malak. My beloved little thing.” They lovingly nuzzled their nose against that of the human’s. “He’s an adorable one, and I’d just be over the moon if you two could get along. He would be just ecstatic to have a little friend, wouldn’t you?” The human occupying the bed answered with a sluggish smile.

After a moment of smittenly petting their human, Adrastus jumped to their feet, leading Nevan to flinch. “Us vampires should best be going now, you two hang out here.” Nevan flashed them a fearful look. “We aren’t leaving, we’ll still be in the house.”

“Don’t be so tense. You should be able to handle not being around me all the time.” Darius pushed himself up from his leaning position near the door, glaring at his thrall. Nevan’s head swam in dismay, the bitter words of his master reverberating through his mind. 

Adrastus practically ignored the other vampire’s irritation. “Before I go, I’ll grab you two a snack!” They gracefully reached into the gorgeous dresser in front of them, pulling out a bowl filled to the brim. “Candies! They’re my darling’s favorite.”

They plucked a wrapped sweet from the container, swiftly peeling it and plopping it into Malak’s parted mouth. The thrall leisurely savored the confection, snuggling deeper into the mattress with pleasure. “I’ll just leave these here if you two want any more. Bye bye, now!”

After pressing a nimble kiss to Malak’s forehead, they made a swift exit, yanking the other vampire along behind them.

“You spoil them too much. I mean, your thrall doesn’t even clean.”

“Well I like him that way.” They exclaimed, their voice disappearing down the hall.

Nevan stood, staring down at the other human, biting his lip nervously. His brain was barren, any possible social skills he had once held sucked from his mind. He hadn’t come in contact with anyone besides Darius for as long as he could remember, leaving him helpless in the current situation.

He fidgeted anxiously with his fingers, before the man on the bed began to move. Nevan startled, captivated as the other man lethargically rolled to the middle of the humongous bed, with a tired sigh.

Gulping down his jitters, he croaked out a question. “Can… um, may I sit?” 

The other man gave him a quiet hum, of which he concluded to be in approval. 

Nevan clumsily crawled atop the mattress, positioning himself in a slouching kneel. His gaze stayed rigid on the other man, who drowsily hugged onto the covers. 

His throat was dry, and his forehead dripped with sweat. He had no clue what to say or do, terrified of messing the entire interaction up completely. He would never forgive himself if he’d ruined the only chance he would probably ever get to make a friend.

“Would, um, would you like another candy?” Malak faintly perked up, presumably from the mention of another sweet. Nevan took his slight animation as a yes, and thus grabbed a handful of snacks from the bowl.

With care, they unwrapped every one, consecutively dropping each into the open mouth of Malak. With each new delight, a gratified purr escaped the man’s lips, to the other’s contentment. Once all he had grabbed were gone, Nevan eyed the candies longingly.

His master never gave them sweets. Would he be mad if Nevan took one? He hadn’t said anything when the other vampire had offered him one earlier. It couldn’t hurt to take just one. 

Timidly, he snagged an individual piece, eagerly dropping it atop his tongue. He relished in the luscious flavor, saliva enveloping the sweet as he twisted it along the walls of his mouth with his tongue. It tasted delicious.

He hoped this was how his master felt after feeding from him.

Nevan was pulled from his thoughts as he felt something pulling at the fabric of his dress. He looked down, meeting with the sight of Malak struggling to pull himself onto the other man’s lap. One of his hands gripped onto the skirt of the dress, the other trembled from the weakness of the thrall’s tired muscles.

After a moment of intense effort, he collapsed with his head resting on Nevan’s soft legs, whose face flushed with warmth. “O-oh. Is…is that nice?”

“Mmm…” the thrall nuzzled into the folds of the other man’s skirt, making himself comfortable.

Nevan began to softly run his fingers through the other man’s soft locks, absentmindedly smiling to himself over the way he leaned into the touch. “I bet that’s nice.”

Malak beamed gingerly, his cheek sinking into the mountain of fabric. “I guess you are pretty cute. I can see why your master loves you as much as they do.” 

It made sense why Nevan would never be valued like Malak was, yet that didn’t make the pain stop. He wished he was worthy of such treatment, he really did, but he was already well aware that he was fit for the role of a stupid servant.

As he watched the other man sink deeper into pleasurable relaxation, couldn’t help but feel a similar weight grasping at him. The bed was deep and more than comfortable, practically calling for him to lay down.

Adrastus wouldn’t mind, right? If he lay down for a bit? They didn’t really seem like the type.

Lifting Malak’s head and gently placing it on a lush pillow, the man swayed onto the mattress. Instantly, as he made contact with the surface, Malak enveloped him into a warm, tight hug.

After the initial shock melted into elation, he drowsily wrapped his own slender arms around his new friend, earning him the sensation of Malak only snuggling into him more.

…

“Oh goodness, look how adorable they are!” Adrastus whispered gleefully, shaking the shoulder of the uninterested man beside them. 

The two had finished their business unexpectedly early, and had returned to find their two humans intertwined with one another on the bed. They were both covered in a heavy pile of plush blankets, blissfully losing consciousness beside one another.

Malak was seemingly already fast asleep, while Nevan gazed at him affectionately, with eyelids threatening to fall. His fingers gradually sifted through the dormant man’s hair, as he quietly murmured what sounded to be a lullaby. 

Adrastus just couldn’t help but gush over the sight. “You must look at this! It may just be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen!” Darius huffed, before turning to look into the room.

To his surprise, he agreed. “I suppose.” He mumbled, fighting the urge to smile even the slightest.

Adrastus was beaming, euphorically giggling with joy at the sight. “I don’t think I can contain myself, they’re too precious! You must bring your little pet over more often!” They held a captivated look, as if entranced by the dreamy sight.

Before Darius could even reply, the other vampire had already danced into the room, determined to shower the two humans with overwhelming endearment.

They slid in between the two, planting saccharine kisses to the skin of both thralls. They caressed both lovingly as well, whispering sweet nothings into their ears until both were effectively deeply asleep.

“Just marvelous, the two of you. I wish you both the sweetest of dreams.” They purred, casting a wave of heavenly bliss across their beloved pets.

#My writing #asks :) #whump #whumpblr #pet whump #whump writing #hypnosis whump #vampire whump #vampire whumper #human whumpee #non human whumper #vampire #Malak oc #Nevan oc #Adrastus oc #Darius oc

[generic-whumper]

I cannot write a “normal” whump story for the life of me. Every attempt has failed so far. (Yet I can read and enjoy human whump perfectly fine?)

Either my characters (whumpees, whumpers, and caretakers) are aliens/ non-human; or the whumpee is going to be a human with supernatural abilities because super-powered whumpees are apparently my weakness? There’s just something extra spicy about adding some mystical, magical, paranormal, and supernatural elements to a story that really scratches an ever-present itch in my brain.

Bonus points for supernatural elements and powers being allegories or symbols for the human experience, mental illness, or man-made issues like society and culture.

Please share your favorite non-human whump stories, I want to read them all!

#whumpblr #whump drabble #whumpee #whump #whumper #whump scenario #pet whump #whump community #whump ideas #weird whumps #just whumpy tings #supernatural whump #paranormal whump #alien whump #nonhuman whumpee #nonhuman whump #non human whumpee #non human whumper #magic whump #fantasy whump #sci fi whump #strange whump #whump thoughts #queue #queued post #whump tropes #I love a good allegory

[lumpsbumpsandwhumps]

bite bite chomp

#whump #whump tropes #whump prompts #whump art #whump prompt #whump scenario #whump community #whumpblr #intimate whumper #creepy whumper #whumper #whumpee #vampire whumper #immortal whumper #non human whumper #vampire #thrall #biting #blood #marking #bite marks #my art #maj art #maj tag #yandere #male yandere #kidnapping

[bloodybloody]

I don't believe in god, but I really like to picture the god as a non-human whumper.

Imagine yourself getting soooooo bored, so you decide to create your own dolls to play with. Design a universe for them, assign a whole set of rules to run this divine system, and deign consciousness and intellect to make them think that,despite the other creatures, they are unique and aware of themselves. Watch them while they are creating languages, building civilizations, trying to think philosophically with their little minds, troubling with their relationships, and feeling godly just because they understand how to derive the electric field formula by using differential charges, which is a pretty simple concept for you to create. Give them directions on how to live their lives, and if they don't obey you, tag after them to punish their disobedience. Every single act of torture that a human can imagine is a variation of how you play with your little toys, and there are countless agonising ones that are beyond their comparison to bring the rebels in line.

Sounds highly enjoyable, i would LOVE to be the god<3

#non human whumper #whump #whump community #whump tropes #god

[jaeyleo]

LOCKS OR KEYS: PART 8

YOU CHOSE: OPEN THE DOORS- CONTINUE WITH CHASE.

Your decisions allow buried memories to resurface. This is overwhelming for your character, and his mind suffers from the weight of it all.

cws: flashbacks, dehumanization, non human whumper, whumper is also caretaker, electric shock, force feeding, eye trauma, mentions of a seizure, sick whumpee, mentions of hypnosis. lmk if i should add more!

. . .

Screaming, screaming, screaming.

Chase's head feels like it could explode. Too many sounds, too many colors, too many voices and commands and knives and soft touches and- and-

Pseudo hushes him, raking fingers through the puppet's hair. "Pink, dolly, take a deep breath."

But Pink isn't there. Chase falls into the hands of his monster, and finds himself in a new place. Somewhere deep inside his head.

. . .

Cellar.

"Please, p- please!! I can't do it, please!"

"Shhh. It's just a pop quiz, Pink. You'll do just fine."

Chase's arms are chained behind him, with ankles cuffed to both legs of the chair. Hot tears pour down his cheeks, soaking into clothes that are already soaked with blood. He shivers, freezing in the cellar air, terrified of what he sees in front of him.

Just a few feet away, Pseudo holds a stun gun. He sits in a foldable chair, relaxed and comfortable in his position of power here. He owns Pink, and that's a wonderful feeling.

"Tell me your name," he says.

"Pink!" Chase doesn't hesitate in saying it. He may as well be saying please. "It's Pink, Pink, I'm P- Pink!"

"Good," Pseudo praises. "Now tell me your age."

"T- twenty seven..!"

"Mhm. And how about-" Pseudo covers his eyes with his free hand, "the color of my eyes?"

"Brown!"

"Very good!"

Pseudo returns to his original position, with both hands placed leisurely on the stun gun.

"Now, last question, dolly. If you get it right, I'll put this away, hm?"

Chase nods, eager and afraid in the same shaking breath.

"What time is it?"

The puppet freezes. There are no clocks and no windows to tell the time in here. He wasn't told when they got down here, and he wouldn't know how much has passed. It all feels like an eternity of pain and blood.

He trembles, searching his mind for answers. What time was breakfast? How long did it take to clean the kitchen? When was lunch? How long did washing the sheets take? It isn't dinner time yet, is it??

"N- nn-" Chase begins to panic. His breath halts in his chest and he has to shake the terror off himself, like a puppy emerging from falling into a swimming pool.

"Can I have a h- hint??"

Pseudo sighhhhhss, lulling his head to the left, the right, the left, up straight again..

"Mmm.... it was about 4:30 when we came down here."

"A- and how long have we been down here??"

Pseudo chuckles at him, his stupid doll. "That's not a hint, dolly, that's just the answer."

A breath escapes the puppet's mouth. "R- right," he says, defeated. "Okay..."

Think, think, think.

He rocks back and forth, clawing at his mind to provide the answer. How long has it been? How long does it feel like? What time is it? What time is it? What time is it?????

"Um, u- um..."

"Come now, Pink. We don't have all evening."

A soft sob bubbles out from his neck. There's no way he's getting this right.

"Is- i- is it... i- is it um.... s- six- no, no, seven, is it seven?"

"Let's see.."

Pseudo pulls his phone out from his pocket, and flips it open.

He stares at the clock, and Chase stares at his monster. Pseudo lets the tension hang in the air, drinking in the sounds of his puppet's pounding heart.

"Is it seven??? I- hh??"

The monster shuts the phone with a click, and places it back inside his pocket.

"Six fifty- three."

He raises the gun, pointing at Chase's shoulder.

"N- no, no!! No!! I was so close, please!! Please Pseudo!! Plea--!"

Chase's words are cut short. He wails, tensing and then falling limp as the pain takes over his entire body.

. . .

Kitchen.

"Open up."

Chase's mouth stays glued shut. Each hand curls a fist into his sweatpants, a desperate attempt at keeping them down. Any minute now, he swears, he's going to take that stupid spoon and shove it down Pseudo's throat.

In his reply, Chase only shakes his head.

"Oh, come now, don't be difficult. You haven't eaten since yesterday."

When he speaks, Chase keeps his teeth clamped together. "I'll eat if I can feed myself."

"Nooo, you'll eat if I tell you to. Now open up.."

He presents the spoon to Chase's mouth, gently tapping the food against his bottom lip. The puppet finally accepts, opens his jaw, and spits it in the monster's face.

For a moment, they only look at eachother. Chase knows what he did is bad. He knows he'll be punished, but he doesn't care. He's going to be hurt anyway, right?

Still, this hurt could've been avoided.

Pseudo's hand comes around to slap the toy hard across the face. It's enough to almost send him reeling out of the chair, gripping onto the table and stomping the floor as not to go flying to the ground. Before he can bring his own hands to cup the sting across his cheek, Pseudo grabs the collar of his shirt, and yanks him to the floor.

Chase yelps, losing his breath as Pseudo climbs on top to straddle him. He hunches over the doll like an animal, a feral spark running around inside his pupils. Chase feels so small beneath him, like a worm under a bird's claw, ready to be swallowed whole.

The spoon comes to meet Chase's lower eyelid, still hot from the food that was so rudely spat back out. Pseudo presses the spoon down, ever so slightly, and Chase feels his eye shift in its socket.

"Do you need to learn your table manners again, pet?"

The puppet's hands clamp around his monster's wrist. "Get off!!"

Pseudo does not relent. He presses the spoon down further, causing the puppet to start seeing double, triple, a black spot where his eye contacts the top of the socket.

"You should answer me, you know. I could do some terrible things to you."

He presses further, and Chase digs his nails into Pseudo's skin. He feels as though his eye could pop right out of his head.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry!"

"That isn't an answer."

More pressure. More pain. Chase feels air in places he shouldn't.

"Ah! No!!! Nono I don't, I don't, I'm sorry!"

"You don't what, Pink? Show me you understand."

"I--!" Pink digs his nails deeper into his monster's wrist. "I don't-- I don't need to learn table manners, I'm sorry! Nh- please!"

"Good," Pseudo croons, and slowly, slowly, releases the pressure on his puppet's eye. He lets a few moments pass before reaching a hand to caress Pink's face, thumb stroking gentle across the cheekbone that was hit. The doll shrinks away, closing his eyes.

"I want you to prove it, now, Pink. Otherwise..." the spoon draws a line, following the curve of Chase's eye socket. He speaks soft, higher pitched, like talking to a child. A puppy, a worm under his claw. "Do you understand?"

"Y- yes, Pseudo.."

"Good.."

Pseudo moves off, and Chase climbs back in his chair. He holds his eye and stinging cheek in his hand before Pseudo swats it away, reminding him table manners include no hands above the waist.

Pseudo sets himself down, too, and presents the food to Chase's mouth once more.

"Open up."

Chase opens his mouth. Food is placed inside, but he doesn't chew.

"....Eat."

The puppet obeys, avoiding his monster's eyes throughout the rest of the meal.

. . .

Home.

The house is happy.

Chase cradles his daughter on the couch, running soft hands through waving blond hair. A cartoon drones on in the background, capturing the little girl's attention completely.

She giggles at the characters, and Chase's heart swells with love.

"They're silly," she comments, turning her head to her father. A wide smile takes her face over, with one missing tooth to top it off.

"Yeah, they are silly, aren't they?"

He smiles down at her, and plants a kiss on her forehead. A small hand reaches up to tap the end of his nose.

Chase smiles wider. He is so full of love he can barely stand it.

. . .

Somewhere in Denmark.

Somewhere far away. Somewhere, where old love and safety and sanity aren't a guarantee. Somewhere deep inside his head, Chase is pulled up, up into reality.

He feels like he's trapped underwater, and Pseudo is the one to drag him out. Up, up, up, through swamps and moss and dirt, through water that's thick as clotted blood. His eyes droop, his bones fall limp, Chase cannot breathe with the pressure in his chest. The water tastes of soap, and a sourness that makes his teeth chatter.

He wants to sink again, into memories good and bad. Wants to be anywhere but here. Anywhere, somewhere, somewhere deep inside his head.

Chase groans, a migraine holding him hostage. The lights are too bright, even behind closed eyelids. His blanket is so warm. Is he comfortable? Too tired to tell.

He opens his lazy eyes, seeing his small attic room surround him. He feels sick. Horrible. Tears wet his eyes but he doesn't remember why.

Beside him, Pseudo watches him rest. The puppet startles when he sees his monster, and he tries desperately to sit up. He can only claw the sheets.

Pseudo tilts his head as the puppet shoves himself into the wall. The blanket provides a shield of false protection, and he holds on as if life depends on it.

"You had some scary nightmares, huh?"

Chase only stares.

"Mh. Well, you slept for a while. You even had a seizure."

The puppet's brows furrow. "Really?" he croaks.

"Mhm. Does your head hurt?"

Chase nods. Pseudo reaches out his hand, slow and steady. Even so, the puppet shrinks away, closing his eyes as if expecting to be slapped or clawed or scratched.

But the monster is gentle, brushing away pink hair to feel the doll's forehead. The coolness of his hand is comforting. Chase can't help but relax a little in his touch.

"You still have a fever..." Pseudo runs his hand over the puppet's hair, petting softly. "... Are you hungry?"

"No.."

"Liar."

"I don't wanna eat."

"It'll make you feel better."

"Will it?"

Pseudo gives a soft smile. He helps the doll sit up, gently hushing him as he whimpers and whines about his head swimming, his muscles hurting, ow, Pseudo, please-

"Shhhhh. It's okay, Pink.."

On the end table, a bowl of warm soup waits to be eaten. The monster takes a spoonful, blows, and presents it to Chase's hesitant mouth.

"Come now... eat. You'll feel better."

The puppet frowns, and accepts. Bite after bite, it feels warm and heavy in his stomach, warm and heavy and delicious. Pseudo was right. He does feel better.

They wash it down with cool water, and Chase breathes a sigh of relief at the taste. He may still feel sick and afraid, but he's not thirsty, not hungry, and not cold, and that's more than enough right now.

Pseudo pushes the empty dishes aside, and returns his hands to playing with Pink's hair. The puppet sinks into the feeling, sleepiness pulling down his weight. He feels comfortable. Sick, but comfortable.

"You've been anxious lately," Pseudo says gently. "You're trying to get back into a headspace that's not good for you."

Chase opens his eyes.

"I hate to see you suffer like that, Pink. It breaks my heart."

"I don't wanna be your toy.."

Pseudo sighs, stroking the doll's cheek with his thumb. Sweet thing.

"I need to run to the store again. I forgot my sugar."

"I- I can't, I don't wanna-"

"No, shhh. You're staying in bed."

Chase relaxes again, falling victim to the gentle touches of his monster.

"Can I trust you to rest?"

The puppet nods. He's too sick to get up anyway. Everything hurts, especially his head.

"Good doll.. I'll be back soon."

He plants one gentle kiss on Chase's forehead, and leaves him to rest alone.

. . .

As the minutes pass, the puppet finds himself unable to sleep. His head hurts, his body aches, oh, God, he feels horrible. He almost wishes Pseudo hypnotized him before he left.

While he lays there, Chase begins to wonder. He heard the door close, but no keys, and no starting car. It's no secret that Pseudo can travel long distances without transport, as part of his magic allows him to do so. Could he have left the car keys?

"No, no, don't think like that," Chase says allowed. He runs his hands over his face, and tries to get comfortable again. But the thought plagues him.

Did he leave the car keys?

Even if he won't escape, he could still check, right? Then at least he knows, and he can get some sleep. Yes, yes, he'll just check and see..

Chase drags himself up, groaning as a dizziness swirls the entire room around. A chill takes over him as well, and he reaches for the smaller blanket on the bed to wrap around his shoulders. God, he feels like shit.

Eventually he makes his way out of his room, leaning against walls and railings as not to go tumbling to the ground. Walking is a chore, and his feet ache with every step. Pins and needles climb up his legs like leeches, and he finds himself in pain with every. Single. Step.

Down the stairs, into the living room.

The car keys hang on the wall by door.

Chase freezes. He can only stare.

#this is my favorite part so far i think #this was super fun to write #im excited to see what everyone chooses!! #locksorkeysgame #flashbacks cw #dehumanization cw #eye trauma cw #electric shock cw #non human whumper #whumper is also caretaker #force feeding cw #sick whumpee #mentions of hypnosis #pseudo oc #puppet pink #its a fic #whump writing #whump #choose your own adventure #choose your own story

[scratchandplaster]

Descent

CW: non-human Whumper, dub-con kiss (non-sexual), mind control

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Just a quick dip in the lake was all they wanted to end the day. Their friends were already busy to collect lukewarm soda from their trunks and wood for the campfire, so Whumpee didn't notice how far they had drifted towards the lake's center. They wondered at how untouched this side of the valley looked, as they laid on their back, greeting the last shadows of dusk.

A faint hum pulled them from their thoughts. With nobody in sight and a queasy feeling under their heart, Whumpee decided to get back to shore again; the others sure needed help with something.

The sound only continued to get louder and without a warning, Whumpee felt a cool stroke on their calf, just for a second. They hated the algae in here, the grossest part about skinny-dipping. 

As quickly as it had left, it returned. This time on their left foot, and trying to shake the irritating greens off didn't seem to work. The humming peaked and with that, their underwater treading was becoming weaker and weaker.

Another weed wrapped itself around their ankle, Whumpee was panting heavily by now and more than annoyed with-

A quick tug at their leg pulled them down under the surface, not leaving a single noise to be heard. After a few seconds of shock and disorientation, Whumpee tried to grab their ankle to pull the deadly plants off, but the second they touched what was holding on, they were released again.

Growing desperate for air, they struggled to gain any distance from the lake's ground, as the force returned, violently tugging their body a few good meters deeper.

Whumpee flailed uselessly, trying to catch whatever attacked them. As the tiny swarms of bubbles finally stopped clouding their vision, they registered a shape just an arm's length in front of them. It reached forward, grabbing them at their bare shoulders.

Whumpee let out a silent scream, fear leaving them in a bubble that made its way up to the surface. It seemed as all strength had left them, unable to produce more than writhing in its clasp, the unknown creature held their limp body between their arms.

Their head inched closer and with the last bit of light left, Whumpee could make out a round face, nearly human, but with unnatural angular features and gills right under their ears. Before they could loose their last breath, the humming returned, rippling between them like a purr, and let a sense of calm flow over Whumpee in waves.

Unable to make it stop, the sharp, pointed teeth of the creature kept getting closer and closer, until Whumpee was pulled into an icy but gentle kiss.

The sound continued, seemingly getting more and more soft, settling down on their already heavy eyelids. Avid for another breath, they too returned the pressure on their lips and inhaled as much oxygen as they were allowed.

Throughout the murky water of the lake, Whumpee could make out the creature's familiar looks, but just under their hips, nearly translucent skin faded into a shimmering pattern. Scales, smooth and dark as the climbing plants around them.

The jade hue let the fractured rays of sunlight reflect off them, and the creature pressed Whumpee tight against their slick body. A few last attempts to free themself fell flat, the water turning pleasantly warm and dim around them. They would love to stay and listen to their lullaby just a bit longer.

Satisfied with their catch, the creature held their prize even closer, careful to keep them safe and breathing. They couldn't wait to show off the newest addition to their treasure trove. Skin to scales, both drifted down, caught in an infinite embrace.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Masterpost]

#whump #whumpblr #creative writing #whump community #whump drabble #I like to think that local park ranger have to regularly trade stolen people for gold or jewelry #siren #mermaid whumper #non human whumper #mermay #mermay 2023 #kidnapping #drowning #noncon kiss #mind control #manhandling

[blackberry-bloody]

Pick Your Poison 10

You chose to confront Berkley.

You were tired, and tired of this shit. You were getting answers whether Berkley wanted to give them or not. You’d had enough. Anger and fear fuel you as you stand up, starting towards the door. But pausing after just a few steps, looking back at the desk. Slowly you turn and head towards that first. 

You shoved papers around, eyeing the clean cut envelopes. With a huff you moved to the drawers, yanking them open and digging through until you found it. Your hand wrapped around the weighty piece of metal, and pulled it out. In your hands was an antique looking letter opener, all metal and heavy, but not sharp enough to do much damage if it came down to it.

You hoped it wouldn’t…

 Carefully, you slipped it under your shirt and tucked it into your pant’s waist. Then, taking a deep breath and steeling yourself, you finally go to the door and open it. Berkley is standing a few feet away, leaning against the wall. 

He greeted you with a smile, pushing himself off. “Ah, good. Mx. Doe, if you’d just follow me, I’ll bring you-” 

“No.” Your voice is firm.

“No? I thought-” He tilted his head, fixing you with a confused expression.

“No.” You repeated. “You need to start making sense and answering my questions, now.” You square yourself up and take a step closer. Hoping you came off more intimidating than you felt. 

Berkley took a step back, however, ending up back against the wall he’d just pushed off of. “Mx. Doe, I can see you’re very clearly stressed. Let’s-”

“NO!” You lunge forward. “I came in from a road. The woods were dead silent, no hunters, let alone animals. That book was not a fucking fairytale. And whatever that was on the phone was not my parent!” 

Berkley flattened himself against the wall. “Mx. Doe. I-I don’t-” he was eyeing you with wide eyes.

“What the hell are you up to Mr.Johnson? Why- and how are you doing this? Why are you doing this to me?!” You finally closed the gap.

His arms flung up in front of his face and over his head protectively. As though defending himself from an incoming attack. “Mx. Doe, you’re scaring me. Please… Just Calm down. I don’t understand!” His voice sounded strained. Afraid.

That got you to pause. Maybe you were wrong… Maybe Berkley didn’t know what was going on… Maybe-?

No.

No… You knew you were right. You had to trust yourself… Otherwise, who could you trust?

“Last chance Mr. Johnson.” You set your jaw, bracing yourself to pull the letter opener on him. You were pretty strong. Maybe you could do enough to make a distraction, giving you time to run?

You couldn’t see his face. Couldn’t read his expression. But you could hear his shaky breaths and it sounded like he might be crying… He seemed genuinely afraid. “Please Mx. Doe. I don’t know what you want from me!” he hiccuped.

You took a step back and time seemed to stand still, while moving far too fast, all at the same time. You swiftly pulled the unconventional weapon and rammed forward with all your force. You felt it make contact and break skin somewhere. Though you quickly turned to run, not waiting to see what happened.

However… You didn’t get very far.

Lightning quick, you feel his hands wrap around your wrist. It’s crushingly tight. Pain shoots its way up your arm and makes your head spin. You know before you even look that he broke it. 

Before you can even process that, you feel him yank you back, and you’re quickly shoved against the wall. His other hand clamps around your neck. You can still breathe, but just barely.

You get a good look now, and everything about him seems to have shifted.

His smile seems much colder. Though under it you get the sense of amusement. His chest is scratched and bleeding from where you nicked him… But he doesn’t seem phased at all.

The closer you looked now… The more your brain screamed “wrong”. Screamed that what you were looking at was merely an imitation. Something looking human, but was anything but.

“What are you?” You rasp. Kicking out against him, clawing at his arm. Anything. But he was just too strong.

He let go of your crushed wrist and put a finger to his lips. “Shhh. Mx. Doe. Try to save your energy. I quite like you. You’re clever.” He leaned in. “I’d be very disappointed if you turn out yet another failure.”

His eyes glowed, quite literally now that you really looked, with a sick giddiness. His grin, much less comforting, became predatory. And his grip became crushing, leaving you gasping for air.“Now, Mx. Doe. Please get some rest. I promise you’ll need it.” His voice became distant as the edges of your vision became fuzzy, and you could feel yourself slipping into helpless unconsciousness…

Taglist: @whumpshaped, @whumpsday, @whump-queen, @whumpzone, @whumptier, @emmettnet, @icyheart-and-friends

#jay jabbers #pick your poison #choose your own whump #my writing #my ocs #berkley oc #mx. doe oc #tw: manipulative whumper #tw: gaslighting #creepy whumper #non human whumper #I am so excited >:3c

[avvail-whumps]

Royal Bought: Child’s Play #3

previous · masterlist · next

content warnings: vampire whump, hypnosis, temporary (child) character death, (child) vampiric turning, kidnapping

Luke tried to stifle the shuddering breath that was on the verge of his tongue. There was no way anyone would be stupid enough to invite the vampire in. Once they did, that was it. They would all lose their lives, or they’d be carted straight off to the kingdom. 

But since Justinian was the only vampire present, he doubted that if the creature got inside, any of them would live. 

One vampire enough to slaughter them all. 

Emily was tense and rigid beside him. He didn’t doubt she thought Luke would do anything to save Ten, but he really hoped she didn’t think he was stupid enough to invite the vampire inside.

“If we let you in,” Luke started, trying to keep his voice steady. It was incredibly difficult with the sheer languid power that the vampire exuded, a creature that was superior to them in amost every single way,” you’ll kill us.” 

Justinian grinned again, flashing his fangs. Luke supressed a shiver. “Not at all.” 

The vampire’s eyes left Luke’s briefly to drop down to Ten instead, who didn’t even seem to react to the way his hand squeezed the back of his small neck a little more tightly. He hated seeing the kid like this - hated that he’d been forced to deal with a vampire alone, as an eleven year old child who didn’t even know any better. Who didn’t know, to the full extent, how ruthless and dangerous these creatures were. 

A finger slipped under Ten’s chin, forcing his head to the side and back, staring directly at the vampire. 

“The poor thing was lost,” Justinian crooned, and Luke had almost yanked an arrow out of his quiver. “He was terrified. Didn’t know his way back home. Isn’t that right?” 

Ten made a wobbly, scared noise of agreement. Despite the compulsion, the vampire had left Ten’s mind to run as normal it seemed, and he didn’t want to imagine all of the raging, panicked thoughts that were racing through him. Justinian smiled in approval, turning back to Luke with a look in those gleaming eyes that said “I told you so.” 

“See?” He hummed. 

Luke sucked in a sharp breath. “Now he’s back. Let him go.” 

The vampire’s smile suddenly looked tight. “What do you mean, let him go?” He glanced at Ten, still stroking the back of his neck gently. “It’s not like I’m holding him hostage.” 

“Don’t fuck with me,” Luke bitterly chuckled out, his lip curling into a strained snarl. It probably wasn’t the best of ideas to make a vampire mad when Ten was stuck in its clutches, and could snap his neck with that hand at any given moment, but there was this restless desperation clawing at his chest. All he thought about all day was Ten’s safety. 

Justinian continued to smile. “Invite me in.” 

Luke seethed. “No.” 

“You humans and your manners,” the vampire drawled. “You haven’t thanked me for bringing your offspring back. The least you could do is invite me in, don’t you think?” 

His spine went stiff. It was like he was toying with them all, tempting each human soul to let a creature of the night inside their home. People’s eyes were flickering about, not even daring to breathe in case the vampire could hear them. Everyone had settled into the sidelines once they realised that Luke had unknowingly volunteered to be their spokesperson. Not even Emily had pried her lips open, which was severely out of character for the years she used them to complain.

His grip on the bow tightened. Justinian’s attitude felt like it was switching from cold and subtly threatening, to smugness and cruel amusement at the simplicity of the humans in front of him. It made his stomach twist. 

“Thank you,” Luke breathed out, but it was difficult to sound sincere. “For bringing him back.” 

The vampire raised a brow. His throat had gone all prickly from his pride, trying to close it up, but if the creature would take gratitude over signing their death warrants, he’d take a simple thank you any day. He seemed to consider the words that Luke had chewed up, before his lip twitched into a soft smirk. 

“You’re welcome,” he drawled, patting the back of Ten’s neck softly. “You want him back? Come and get him.” 

Luke bit the inside of his cheek. “Release him first.” 

Those words seemed to strike a chord within the vampire, and his eyes darkened, even visible in the darkness of the night creeping up on them. Luke definitely didn’t miss the way his hand tightened against the back of Ten’s neck, pinching it. It sounded like Ten almost made a strangled, pained noise, but it was lodged in the confines of his throat. It set something fiery off in Luke’s chest. 

“If you want him back so badly,” the vampire drawled, his voice having taken a stern tone that sent shivers racing down his spine,” then come and get him.” 

Luke sucked in a sharp breath. It would be suicide, wouldn’t it? The vampire was clearly trying to lure him out, trying to use Ten as way for his little meal to wander willingly out of the safety of their camp. Even if he tried to get Ten into the camp before something could happen, the vampire’s reflexes would thwart that instantly. 

He felt Emily’s hand on his shoulder, hot to the touch. 

“Luke,” she murmured, in a way that told him she didn’t approve of this. When he tilted his head aside to look at her, it was like she was trying to keep her expression together as much as she could. She was tense, but just like him, just like everyone else, she was scared. 

Luke’s stomach gave another sickening twist. This was his fault, wasn’t it? All of his hunts had encouraged Ten to run off, he’d made him his own bow that was now broken and coddled to his chest like it was still the most precious thing to him. He wanted Ten to be safe, and he would risk his life just to do it. 

When he shrugged himself out of her grip, she didnt’t say anything. Didn’t stop him. If the vampire decided to kill him, then there would be nothing that he could do. 

Luke couldn’t feel his legs when he took that first step. Getting closer and closer to the line that separated him from life and death.

But also from Ten.

The kid still hadn’t snapped out of it, but there was nothing he could do when Justinian was the one in control here. His grip on his bow was deadly. He didn’t even think he would be able to pry his own fingers from the sturdy wood if he tried. 

Keeping his eyes down low, Luke didn’t dare make eye contact with Justinian now. The moment he passed the line, he had to push the presence of the creature to the back of his mind, and not fall into the deep hypnotic state he knew vulnerable humans could get themselves trapped into. 

His feet stuttered to a stop at the line. His heart was pounding so hard in his chest, that he felt like he was going to be sick. But this was for Ten.

Luke sucked in a deep breath, and stepped over the line. It was deadly quiet from the campers behind him. No one even dared to utter a single word as he forced his numb legs over to Ten, slowly kneeling down in front of him. He kept his gaze focused on him, not daring to let it slip over to the vampire for even a moment. Justinian could probably hear how fast his heart was racing right now, the blood rushing to his head and making him dizzy with fear. 

“Ten,” Luke whispered, his chest so tight he could barely even get the words out. He placed his bow on the ground. “Ten, look at me. Are you there?” 

For a sickening, gut wrenching second, Luke considered whether Justinian was even going to release the kid, like he had planned to play a cruel joke on him the entire time. But then there was a flicker of lucidity in Ten’s eyes, and the kid’s expression suddenly lit up, no longer tense and blank and fixated. Terrified, watery eyes flitted up to meet his. 

“Luke?” Ten croaked, clutching the broken bow even closer to his chest. When he went to glance at the vampire, he gently cupped his cheeks, forcing him to meet his eyes instead. 

“Don’t look at him,” he whispered, more desperately than he would have liked. Ten’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, but he jerkily nodded his head. Luke realised his own breathing was audibly shaking in the night air, and he tried to put on his bravest face for the kid. He gently took Ten by the hand, rising to his feet, his whole body felt stiff with tension. 

He left his bow. He didn’t even think about it.

“Just walk with me,” Luke breathed, almost pleading. “Look ahead. We’re going back now, alright?” 

Ten plastered himself to Luke’s side as though he was velcro, and he was sure he could feel the tension and the terror radiating from him. The kid was shaking like a leaf in the wind, no doubt ready to collapse if Luke wasn’t gripping his hand tightly. 

One step. 

Another step. 

He could feel the pinpricks of Justinian’s beady eyes following him as he led Ten to the gate, his foot almost passing over the threshold, ready to jerk Ten to safety as quickly as possible and—

Before they’d made it past the gate, Ten suddenly made a pained, whining noise, and Luke felt him suddenly fight against his grip, making him stiffen. He turned his head aside, glancing desperately over Ten’s wrinkled expression, contorted in pain, and the unwanted confusion stabbed relentlessly at him. His brows twitched. 

“Ten,” he pleaded, his voice strained. “Come on.” 

When he tried to tug the kid closer to him, he made another strangled hiss of pain, now digging his fingers into Luke’s arm as hard as he could to get him to let go, fighting against his pulling grasp with this squirmy desperation. 

“It hurts,” Ten choked out, like there was this pressure around his throat that was making his voice weak. He whined again, and this time, Luke eased his grip on his hand, despite knowing that he wasn’t the one hurting him right now. When Ten skittishly took a few steps away from the gate, he noticed the wrinkled expression faded slightly, reopening his eyes. Luke choked on a breath. 

“What did you do?” 

The words came out breathless, but there was an underlying fury laced between them. He was still looking at Ten, but he was talking directly to Justinian. He kneeled down, cupping Ten’s face again and frantically inspecting him. The kid’s eyes were wide, dazed and confused. He faintly heard Emily sharply calling his name. 

“Luke.” 

Ten wasn’t under the influence of Justinian’s compulsion anymore. So why couldn’t he come inside the camp? What did the vampire do to him? He couldn’t contain the fiery rage bubbling inside of him.

All of those questions, and still, Luke knew the answer to them.

Ten wasn’t a vampire, that much he was sure of, and the vampire held no power over him. But who knows how long Ten had been with him. What the vampire had made him do. It sent him into a fit of rage to think there was vampire blood racing through Ten’s system right now, enough to make react impulsively in fury.

“What did you do?” Luke snapped again, his gaze wrenching towards the vampire with his lip curled into a deadly snarl. Immediately, his eyes met Justinian’s, and it was like something had hit him hard in the chest. All of the air was knocked out of his lungs, his vision tunneling through those glimmering, red eyes, and a complacent dizzines washed over him within seconds. 

But Luke forced his eyes shut, and it felt like it was tearing his skull apart just to look away. The air barrelled back into him, and he hadn’t even realised he’d been swaying on the spot until Ten’s small hands on his wrists grounded him, shakily calling out his name. All it did was allow that anger to return like a storm, and before he knew it, he was reaching for an arrow in his quiver, and he was going straight for the vampire. 

He heard Emily screeching for him to stop, but Luke was consumed by a different kind of red this time, his own. 

Even though he thought he’d moved quickly, it was nothing compared to the reflexes and speed of a vampire. Before he could even blink, Luke felt something twist him into the ground with a hard slam, a hand fisted in his locks tightly, and others digging hard into his arms, twisting them behind his back. He tasted a mouthful of dirt on his tongue, sucking in a ragged, wheezy breath, before he realised that Justinian hadn’t even moved. 

On him were two other vampires. And from the shadows, seemingly from the depths of the darkness, a dozen vampires appeared, scattered around them, and Luke faintly heard the soft gasp from Ten’s throat. He thrashed, straining against their hold, but nothing he did would break the strength of one vampire, let alone two. 

He could hear people from the gate yelling as he was wrenched onto his knees, the uncomfortable pressure on his shoulder blades making him clench his teeth together to suppress a pained grunt. Ten kept trying to slowly back himself towards the gate, his eyes flickering frantically between each terrifying vampire that prowled closer, but each time, a look of discomfort would pass through him, and he’d be forced to shuffle a little further forwards to alleviate the pain. 

This time, there was nowhere else for Luke to go when Justinian’s fingers dug into his jaw, wrenching his head upwards, and meeting his eyes before he had the intuition to close them shut. He instantly felt that swirling dizziness hit him again, being sucked into the tunnels of red. 

“Quiet, now,” Justinian drawled, and Luke’s throat immediately closed up. “Be still. You brought this on yourself for lashing out, I’m afraid.” 

When the vampire’s sharp fingers left his jaw, Luke realised he couldn’t bring himself to move, just like he’d been ordered. The vampire’s compulsion had him wired to the spot, the two vampires still keeping him on his knees in the uncomfortable, degrading position. He could only watch, his own mind dazed as the vampire took Ten by the arm in a soft grasp, and gently pulled him along, away from the gate. 

The kid looked frightened, but Justinian was gentle with him, the same way he had been when he’d found them at the gate. Ten’s eyes were flickering around anxiously, his chest rising and falling rapidly with each scared intake of air. Justinian’s hands landed on his shoulders, settling behind him. 

Luke stared. 

He wanted to tell Ten that he was sorry. Tears were pooling in his eyes, and the kid was trembling, looking so tiny and vulnerable in front of the creature. Justinian’s hands left his shoulders, sliding up to his neck. 

“Luke?” Ten whispered, his voice choking up. It sounded like he could barely get the words out, and his own mind was screaming for him to say something. To reassure him, to apologise, to say something so Ten wasn’t in such an awful position. 

Justinian’s hands bracketed Ten’s head. 

Luke’s heart broke. Even though he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, he could feel the familiar seething heat of tears sliding down his cheeks. The blurriness of his own tears made his vision even cloudier, and God, he prayed it would stay cloudy so he didn’t have to witness this. Ten was looking at him, big eyes confused and frightened, and as he opened his mouth to speak, Justinian snapped his neck. 

His body thumped to the ground. 

Even against the high pitched ringing that erupted in his ears, Luke could hear the horrified screams from the campers, the chaos that tore them apart as most fled from the gate, retreating back into camp. Luke wanted to scream, wanted to fight tooth and nail and go out bringing as much damage as he could to the vampire, but he was helpless. 

Justinian stepped over Ten’s body.

He watched as a vampire knelt down beside him, and he was sure he heard another disgusting crunch as they set his neck right. The kid’s body was then gently scooped up into their arms, settled comfortably in the crook of their neck. 

Justinian let out a soft sigh, tilting Luke’s head back with a single, cold finger. 

“You and I both know the moment I found that kid, he was mine to do with as I pleased,” the vampire murmured by his ear, and Luke found himself going even more lightheaded when he forced their gazes together once more. “The stories of immortal children might seem tragic, but I assure you, it won’t be anything like that. Not that you’ll ever see him again.”

Justinian’s lip twitched into a languid smirk, his voice dropping to a low, hypnotic lull. 

“Relax,” he purred, and against his own discretion, Luke found himself doing just that, his mind and his body going slack. It was terrifying, but at the same time, he was too far in Justinian’s compulsion to think for himself. He just kept sinking, further and further, his eyes droopy and glassed over. The vampire swiped a thumb over his lips, admiring his face for a moment. “Oh, you’ll set the markets thriving.”

Luke didn’t have the strength to think of the implications of that, because he was falling, and he couldn’t stop. Justinian’s eyes pushed him deeper and deeper, until everything shut off, and he was gone.

tag list – @whumpatize-me-captain @whump-me-all-night-long

#royal bought #whump #whump writing #whump fic #whump series #whump snippet #whump scenario #vampire whump #whumpblr #whump community #fantasy whump #non human whumper #human whumpees #temporary character death #vampiric turning #vampires #whumper #whumpee #writing #my writing #avvail whumps

[whumpsoda]

Spill - Nevan & Darius

WOHEO Masterlist

I procrastinated on finishing this one for so long but I’m finally posting it :) now to work on even earlier captivity stuff

Taglist- @softvampirewhump @iys-cloud

cw: conditioned/brainwashed whumpee, gore/blood, vampire whumper

———————————————————————

Nevan gasped sharply, eyes wide and body trembling. Shards of slick, edged glass littered the previously pristine floor in a giant trickling pool of elegant wine. His throat caved in, shriveled up and dry, as his fingers twitched mercilessly. The thrall’s vision trailed over each cracking fragment, leading all the way to a pair of drenched boots in front of him. 

As his gaze ever so slightly rose, the slender body of his still master came into view. His breath hitched as he stopped at Darius’ abdomen, a wide splatter of the dark beverage already seeping into and taking hold of the fabric of his sweater.

His new sweater.

His white sweater.

The first time his master had granted him the privilege of doing such a task as pouring his master’s luxurious wine, such a simple task at that, and he’d instantly fucked it up.

Nevan’s knees buckled weakly, almost stumbling into the deadly array of razor sharp slivers. “I-!” He spat, staggering a step closer. He couldn’t see his master’s face, but the fierce grip of his fist was enough.

“I- I, I, I didn’t-!” He cried, thoughts moving so fast the pleas he so desperately needed to say were split apart like a puzzle. Nevan tripped over his heavy feet, hopelessly teetering around the shatters. Almost falling into his master, he stopped himself just before he could commit another grave mistake.

He clutched Darius’ clothing in both shaking hands, taking in the effects of his crime. Nevan frantically dove his head into the rich, impossibly expensive fabric, tongue outstretched and exposed.

Vigorously he ran the red piece of flesh over the ridges of sewed cotton, already stained a vibrant magenta. Fuzz and twine stuck to the moisture as his tongue dragged over, in a futile attempt to suck out the pigment. “‘M so- sorry-! So- so sorry!” 

Nevan released the item with a swift but firm slap to the cheek, hungrily burning his supple skin. Spit flew from his open mouth at the contact, and an already forming tear slipped out from his eye. 

“Down.” Darius commanded, voice graveled and coated in disgusted displeasure.

His body moving beyond his own accord, Nevan’s knees dropped to the wood below his master’s. With his head bowed, he silently held back a wail when numerous bits of the bottle cut through his skin, digging and burrowing their way into his flesh. 

“So- sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry! So, so, sorry!” He exclaimed, grabbing eagerly at whatever shards lay in his reach, disregarding the sting of more breaks tearing into him. Nevan searched until his hands were full, and he was howling in a mixture of horror and pain.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry!” he rambled, streams of fat tears dampening his cheeks, only trailing off in panic when Darius’ hand neared his head.

Nevan shrieked as the vampire’s fingers drove into his scalp, seizing a hearty fistful of the human’s hair. Nevan’s head was aggressively wrenched back, agony pricking at each little divot in his head where the hairs sprouted. “Sorry, sorry, sorry-!” 

“Shut up.” Darius snarled, baring his teeth as he pierced into the eyes of the pleading man below him. Nevan whimpered, snot dribbling over his quivering lip as he clasped his hands together as means of begging, glass deeping their spot inside of him.

“You know, Nevan,” Darius sickly huffed a bitter laugh. He began a slow descent to a crouch, digging his face into his thrall’s. “I got you to make my life easier.” He sneered, twisting Nevan’s hair between a furious grip and yanking to elicit another yelp.

“And somehow, after all the effort I’ve put in to getting you to so much as call me Master, you can’t manage a task as easy as pouring me a drink?” 

Nevan wanted to scream, to beg, to plead until his voice ran raw. How could he be so stupid all the time? He was just a brainless, good for nothing dog like his master told him. 

Darius released his rigid hold on the bundle of strained hair, swiftly gripping his thrall’s face between his fingers before Nevan could catch a second to recover. With his free hand he clutched the man’s wrist, squeezing it tightly with all of his amplified vampiric strength and tearing it from Nevan’s clasp.

Nevan watched in unwavering focus as his master lifted his tattered hand to his widening mouth, dragging his clammy red tongue over each ragged cut, scratching himself in the process. 

Nevan’s hand jerked with each tickled sensation, shivers of pleasure and fear running all the way to his spine. Darius’ grip was still hard, holding the direct intent to hurt, but with each tender lick his eyelashes fluttered against his will. 

Smears of lavish gore muddled the vampire’s tongue and lips, and Nevan was yanked back into lucidity as Darius extended his mouth, giving the other man a full display of his bared fangs. 

Nevan’s heart plunged to his tensing stomach as the realization of his master’s moves captured him, attempting a single muffled shout.

Thin bones popped and cracked as Darius’ teeth and fangs brutally sunk into his thrall’s palm with the force of a feral animal, grinding the rows and sticking them deeper. 

Nevan thrashed and wriggled to his best ability, shrill screams of terror and torture swaddled by the purse of his lips. His master’s overwhelming strength was far too great, holding Nevan in place with violent intent. 

Hurt, hurt, hurt, hurt, hurt-

Darius’ sets of razor like fangs were nearly touching, ripping gaping holes in a mess of violence of which Nevan couldn’t stomach. His head spun with sickness, mind overwhelmed with the sight of sickening red, the threat of retching inching closer to reality.

At the last possible moment, seconds before tearing completely through the twitching meat, Darius relaxed his jaw. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, Nevan convulsed in anguish, thick and rich bite marks protruding into his ripped and bloodied skin.

Licking his meal stained lips, Darius pecked the tip of his finger, leaving a stain of jarring red with a grin. “Look at me.” He quietly sung, his honeydew voice pulling Nevan from debilitating shock. “Focus on master. You can at least do that for me, can’t you?” He softly requested, as if he didn’t almost mangle his thrall seconds before. 

Each of Nevan’s breaths were shaky and panicked, his slender chest heaving and his throat wheezing. Darius let go of his cheeks, instead slipping his hand to gently cradle his thrall’s lolling head. 

“Fuh, f- focus, focus, master-” Even melting into a sweaty mess of aching misery, Nevan wanted nothing more than to please his beloved master.

“Hush, listen.” The vampire shushed, pressing a thumb to Nevan’s lips. “Let Master fill your empty little head with my voice.” Darius lifted a finger, leaving a smear of the thrall’s own insides as he placed a stray piece of his thrall’s hair back in its rightful place.

“You want to be good, right?” He questioned, allowing Nevan the slightest bit of movement to eagerly nod. “You want to be better.” He stated, easing his grip on the man’s mouth.

“You’ll surely have to be if I ever want to socialize again. I’ll look like an idiot if I try showing off a faulty thrall.”

Nevan nodded again, slower this time, still desperate to agree. “Yes, better… good…” His voice fuzzed as he spoke, eyes unfocusing. The heavenly agreement almost distracted him from the aching throb of his hand.

“You will be better. Remember what I told you?” Darius asked, studying his thrall with hungry eyes.

“Ye- yes… sir.”

“Then say it.”

Nevan swallowed back a whimper as he began reciting what the vampire had painted into him. “Oh- obedient…mmm… quiet… sss… still… do… docillle…” Each word more slurred than the last, his brain was melting under the weight of the blissful expectations his master had stained upon him. “Betterrr…”

Darius laughed a breathy, charming chuckle, amused by his thrall’s unwavering submission, and Nevan simply supplied a hazy smile. The vampire wiped a bead of salty sweat from his servants moist upper lip.

“Now,” Nevan gave the slightest bit more awareness, eager to follow along. “You, my pet, are going to go take good care of your hand, and I’m going to change.” Darius instructed, forcing Nevan to focus his cotton candy filled mind on only his words.

“You will take my dirtied items and throw them in the laundry, and come back to clean up this mess.” The human nodded along drowsily. “Then, and only then, will I consider calling a doctor for your injury.”

“Yes… sir.”

“Good boy.” Darius praised with a bitter and smug grin, showing off his pink coated mouth as a pool of pleasure swished inside Nevan’s chest.

His master was so kind, helping him better himself. Nevan simply couldn’t let him down, could he?

#we only have each other #Darius oc #Nevan oc #whump #whumpblr #servant whumpee #servant whump #pet whump #whump writing #My writing #vampire whump #vampire #vampire whumper #non human whumper #cw: gore #cw blood

[lliinnkk]

Insomnia

Content: creepy whumper; intimate whumper; non human whumper: defiant whumpee

Word Count: 630

It was quiet and dark, a dim orange light twinkling softly from the lamp on the bedside table. The embrace Fuyune was being held in from behind was strong but limp from sleep. The six fingered hands wrapped around his waist were a lovingly disgusting cage under the thick duvet's warmth.

His body was bruised and battered, exhausted from the abuse, taking in and out deep calm breaths. The clock ahead read 3am. Despite his eyes begging for sleep, Fuyune still felt not a shred of fatigue.

The insomnia wasn't unfamiliar to him but it wouldn't be as bad if he couldn't feel a certain man's chest pressed against his back and breath tickling his hair. He felt the most desperate need to stay awake. Solon was asleep now but if, even for a second, Fuyune let his guard down, who knows what mercies he might withhold from him while his allies were unaware.

With no escape or even an inane entertainment, he had nowhere to turn but his thoughts. His face showed nothing, comfortably nestled into his pillow, but all he could feel was rage. A pure and incomparable, constant feeling seated deep in his chest, the only thing he could seem to think about.

He asked Kashton for advice once about how he dealt with their situation. Kash had always been a very emotional person, always the first one to start crying and screaming whenever the situation called for it (or whenever it didn't) so Fuyune found it quite strange when everyone's lives got turned upside down and yet Kash, of all people, looked the calmest about it.

When he found out, he wasn't surprised: Kash had learned to lean into and enjoy the abuse he was subjected to. Being a very dependent person already, it was like second nature learning to give up total free will and submit to someone else completely.

Fuyune didn't take to this as easily. It's not that he didn't try, he really did. He tried so hard. But to even attempt stung his chest and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, as though he were violently allergic to the very concept. It left a bad taste in his mouth recalling it. Maybe that method worked for others but not for Fuyune. There was no way he could ever love this.

The only thing he could possibly feel toward this man and this life was hatred. There was nothing that Solon hadn't taken from him. He took his body parts, his strength and his dignity. He took his privacy and autonomy and his identity. He took his entire future.

He used to have everything. A family, a legacy, power, a reputation, expectations. His life didn't look like his anymore. Did he even still have the right to call himself Fuyune? If not, what specifically was the moment that had robbed him of that title? Had it slowly decayed over time or was he doomed the moment he set foot on that island?

It didn't matter. At the end of the day, it was all Solon's fault. He was the one who put him on that island. Fuyune's life was destroyed in the lonely office room that day, the first day he met Solon face to face.

After that day, the torture continued and today it continued still. November. It had almost been a whole year since the beginning of all this and in a few weeks it would begin again with new victims. But still with the same old Solon. Fuyune prayed for the safety of whoever might come after him, that Solon might show them more mercy than he did to him, but the prayer wasn't a hopeful one.

No, Fuyune wasn't hopeful. He was never hopeful.

Fuyune was angry. So, so very angry.

#I hope the content at the top was done correctly??? #my post #my writing #whump #creepy whumper #intimate whumper #non human whumper #defiant whumpee

[lumpsbumpsandwhumps]

I 🫀 you (:

#whump #whump art #my art #whumpersona #whumpsona #lady whumper #whump tropes #whump prompts #whumpblr #whump community #whump ideas #cutting #blood #yandere #female yandere #intimate whumper #creepy whumper #supernatural whumper #non human whumper #demon whumper

[jaeyleo]

LOCKS OR KEYS: PART 5

since it's been so long, here is a link to part four: https://www.tumblr.com/jaeyleo/700114166317547521/locks-or-keys-part-4-objectives-majority

MAJORITY VOTE: PERSON A, MALE, 34, CART CONTAINING HEALTHY FOODS, SHOWER SOAPS, INCLUDING CHILDREN’S BRANDS.

Your obedience has left Chase forgotten. You are now playing as Pink.

tws: parental whumpee, brainwashing, kidnapping, hypnosis, non human whumper, memory loss, captive whumpees, lmk if i need to add more

. . .

Bug eyes, bug eyes, bug eyes.

Pink stares ahead at the gentleman, fixed on his appearance. Big and strong, big and strong.

"Pseudo..?" Pink tugs on the sleeve of his caretaker. "Pseudo?"

"Hm?"

"I th- think I found someone."

Pseudo looks up to see where the toy points. The man ahead is oblivious, staring at two packages of fruit snacks and comparing the ingredient list. Eventually, he decides on the one labeled "Organic!" and places the other aside.

Pseudo turns back to Pink, a praising smile on his face. "Good job," he says, and gives his hand a squeeze.

The next 15 minutes are spent searching for the garden supplies. A helpful hand from Pink places items handed to him in the basket, eager to help with anything Pseudo may need.

And Pseudo needs chicken wire, for the tomatoes.

Duct tape, for.... the shovel. The shovel's handle likes to give splinters.

Rope, to hang vegetables, perhaps.

Barbed wire. To keep the deer from getting all the good stuff.

Gardening scissors. They can cut through the toughest of branches and weeds.

Bleach, for....... for...

"For the tub," Pseudo tells the puppet, catching his thoughts wandering.

"The tub?"

"We'll have to clean the tub."

"Oh, i- it's already dirty?"

Pseudo shakes his head, another smile coming to his face. This time, it's more devious. Wicked.

"It's not dirty yet. You'll see."

"What abou-"

A finger comes to Pseudo's lips to hush, and Pink obeys the command. His lips are sealed until he is given permission to speak again.

"Let's get going."

Pseudo leads the puppet up to the cashiers. The man he chose is nowhere in sight, but Pink isn't worried. If Pseudo wants something, he gets it. He's very good at that. Good at everything.

Scan after scan, everything is placed in paper bags and eventually carried off to the car. Once more, the puppet is buckled in, secured, and the journey home begins. Except...

The woods never come. They're in a town, leading to something near suburban. Pink has so many questions, too many questions, bug eyes bug eyes bug eyes out the window. He turns to Pseudo, suppressing a whimper in his pathetic state of silence.

"Settle down," says Pseudo. "You're alright, don't worry."

The puppet frowns. His mind begins to race, and nervous fingers come to pull at pink hair.

"Hey, come now, hands in your lap."

The puppet places his hands in his lap, and pulls at pant legs instead.

"We're getting garden supplies, Pink. Remember who you picked out?"

The toy nods, yes, yes, he remembers. He did a good job, he remembers.

"Good. That's all we need now, okay? You're alright."

Pink sighs, closing his eyes. He wants to hold Pseudo's hand, wants to feel the warm embrace of his most precious friend in the world. Instead, he keeps his mouth closed, his hands in his lap, his mind from wandering. You're alright. You're alright.

The car ride continues. A silver minivan stays within view the entire time, until eventually pulling up to a small house in a small neighborhood. It's quiet here.

A few houses down the road, Pink watches ahead as the man he chose hops out of the van. When the trunk opens, almost the entire back is taken up by a big red wagon. Stuffed inside of that, a stroller.

The puppet scrunches his hands. He feels the faint vibration of pushing one against a sidewalk. The vague stickiness of the cup holders filled with crumbled crackers and sippy cups of juice. In the back of his mind, he hears a little voice, a little laugh, a little girl. He feels the sun against his face. They're at the zoo.

"Can you stay in the car?"

Pink is taken from his trance. He searches around, landing once more in Pseudo's gaze.

The puppet feels as though he could choke. The vibrations in his hands, the sun on his face, the sticky cup holder and little laughter is replaced with a painful kind of numbness. Warmth and light and heaviness fill his mind again, drowning the memory that found it's way to the surface.

Pink's eyes sting with tears. What happened, what did he remember? He doesn't remember, he doesn't remember, what did he remember?

A soft whine escapes the toy, and he leans back against the passenger seat.

"Listen, Pink. Can you stay in the car?"

Shaking hands, shaking breath. He doesn't remember the past, but he can understand the here and now. Pink nods.

"Good. I'll just be a few minutes..."

Sleepy eyes watch his caretaker exit the car. He finds it hard to stay awake, hard to breathe. He whines once more, sick, sick, sick, and shuts his eyes.

. . .

Soft clicks, soft hands. Pseudo runs his thumb over Pink's eyelashes, coaxing him awake.

"There you are, babydoll. Sleep well?"

Seeing his caretaker, the puppet smiles. He has no recollection of the past three and a half hours, save for a few glimpses of the store and a silver van. Or was it red? He remembers something red.

Pink opens his mouth to talk, but Pseudo gives him a warning look. Oh. That's right, he was hushed. The toy holds his breath and nods.

"Good. You needed it... Hop out."

Pink unbuckles himself and follows Pseudo to the backseat, presenting his arms for bags to be placed inside. Once that's taken care of, the trunk is opened.

Oh.

Pink remembers a little more now.

Someone big and strong lays bound and gagged. He struggles, sweat dripping down his forehead. He tries to scream behind... duct tape. But it's wrapped over his mouth, his jaw, around to the back of his head.

Rope keeps his hands and feet still. His skin is raw and red, he must have been fighting for a while. But Pseudo wanted it that way. He doesn't have to tie people up like that.

"Shhhh," Pseudo is gentle. Pink hopes the man is comforted by the simple gesture, but he won't stop squirming and screaming.

"Take the bags to the cellar," Pseudo orders. He doesn't look up from the man when he talks. Something hungry stirs in his eyes. His hands.

"Leave them by the doors."

The puppet lingers. Bug eyes, bug eyes, bug eyes. The poor man in front of him doesn't understand what's happening, but Pink does. Pink knows.

He sends himself off before Pseudo can command again. Once at the cellar, he waits there. He's quiet there. The muffled screaming at the front of the house grows closer, and closer, until a thud makes everything silent.

Bug eyes. Pink stares at the cellar door. Bug eyes. Pseudo drags an unconscious body into his view.

The monster watches his puppet. He's lost again, poor thing.

"Still with me?"

Pink doesn't respond.

"Pink."

Click, there he is. Pink looks up at his friend.

"Do you want to keep helping me, dolly?"

. . .

#locksorkeysgame #YAYYY #so happy to write this #i apologize if it's a little bit rusty #long post #chase barrens #pseudo #puppet pink #whump #tw hypnosis #tw brainwashing #tw kidnapping #non human whumper #tw memory loss #its a fic #whump writing #whumpee #tw captivity

[darkthingshappen]

No. 21 FAMOUS LAST WORDS

@whumptober

Thanks to @quietly-by-myself for their amazing beta job and for giving me feedback and asking more questions than I could have possibly answered in a short story. It made this piece richer an better. If I decide to continue it, I am in your debt.

Thanks also to my normal whumperful crew who never fail to cheer me on: @oddsconvert (who was very excited for this piece and got a sneak peak at it so I could hear her feedback as well), @sparrowsage and @whumpcereal. Y'all are amazing.

Content warnings: human whumpee, non-human whumper, fantasy fic (Shockingly for me, there are no violence or noncon warnings for this one.)

This is my first foray into writing fantasy fic y'all. I hope you enjoy it.

Coughing up Blood | “You’re safe now.” | “Take me instead.”

The Fae creature laid his human rescue down.  They were at the borders of the Fae World that this little human had accidentally fallen into.  The Fae creature would pay a price for this rescue, but it didn’t matter.  Perhaps one day this single act of kindness would come back to him.  Perhaps it could help heal the rifts between their worlds.  

He leaned over the frail human, weak from even his short captivity in the Faerie Realm.  Humans weren’t supposed to be here.  The boy, at least the Fae thought it was a boy - human ages were foreign to him - had a soft look about him.  He was marked by his time with the Fae.  On the few occasions that the human creature had opened his eyes, the effects of the Faerie Realm on him had been obvious.  He would carry the Faerie touch for the rest of his life.  One green eye and one silver.  He would be able to see beyond what any human could.  

It was not a gift.  The Faerie were hidden for a reason.  Yes, they were the stuff of dreams and high fantasy, but they were also the stuff of nightmares and waking terrors.  The Fae creature tucked a lock of the human’s hair behind his ear.  He was lovely.  

The Fae had been struck by the simplicity of his begging.  Water.  It was all he’d asked for, his hand reaching through the vining bars of his cell.  The human sensed he would die as a toy and plaything of the powerful creatures that had found him.  That simple request for a basic necessity had plagued the Fae creature that sat with him now.  

The cruelty of his own people, on display in this one fragile life.  He couldn’t abide it.  He wouldn’t.  He’d forced back the vine bars and stolen the human under the silver light of the stars.  His fellow Fae would be angry, but it was the right thing to do.  The human had not invaded their realm. He had not sought to destroy or to hurt.  He’d fallen on a hike and slipped through one of the many moonlit gateways.    An accident.  An accident with lasting consequences.  

The Fae creature paused to wonder if he was indeed helping the human.  Part of the boy in his arms was Fae now.  He was no longer entirely human.  Would he be accepted in his old world?  The creature hoped so.  He certainly was not accepted here, other than as a toy - entertainment for the corrupt and the cruel.

The Fae creature had only a moment’s warning from when he heard the soft whooshing of an airborne projectile before the arrow slammed into his side.  

“No!  No!  Stop!  Please!” he cried out, shielding the boy with his body.  Another arrow struck his shoulder and he felt the magic in the tip weakening him.  Magic that only the King’s guard wields.  

“You fool.  You’ve stolen what does not belong to you,” a watery voice called from the shadows.  

The Dark Water Spirit, cultivated from the darkest depths of the ocean.  A Fae feared by all, only made more fearsome by being the King’s guard.  An assassin, messenger, and executioner all in one.  

No. No!  They were so close.  He couldn’t have come this far only to fail the human.  He looked at the waterfall by whose edge he sat.  Fear flooded over the Fae creature.  He’d been caught betraying his King.  He would face the Sidhe King’s absolute wrath for taking his lawful prey and sending him away from what the King viewed as his right.  And for what?  The small human creature in his arm?  Yes.  Yes, absolutely! He would endure it and it would be worth it, if only he could get the boy to safety.  

“Plea-” he coughed and tasted blood in his mouth.  “Please.  Take me instead.  Tell the Sidhe King that you got to me too late, that I had already freed the boy.  I will suffer the consequences willingly.  But this human has suffered enough.  Please.”  The creature inched closer toward the edge of the falls with the boy’s body still in his arms.  

“It’s not my call.  I have been sent to retrieve you both,” the watery voice replied.

“I can't let you have him.  He’s not of this world.  He has a right to go back.  To live his life.  He’s not an enemy.”

“That is for the King to decide.”

The king would indeed decide.  He would decide that the boy was an invader.  He was, without question, a human in the Faerie Realm.  That made him a danger, no matter how he came to be here.  The verdict would be a forgone conclusion.  The boy, as all humans caught by the High Faerie Court, would remain an imprisoned source of entertainment.  

“Then let him decide without the boy.”  The Fae creature dashed the few remaining steps to the tumultuous edge of the waterfall.  Pain burned through him from the arrows.  “You are safe now.  Go! And remember that at least one Faerie cared for you and did right by you,” he whispered into the human’s ear.  

Then he flung the boy over the edge, knowing that the chasm would catch him and he would come safely back to the human world.  The creature knew he was betraying his King.  But he also knew the human didn’t deserve to be used that way.  He deserved a life of his choosing, not left to fate and a King blinded by hatred.   

With the last of his energy spent, the Fae creature dropped to the soft grass and then let the darkness drag him back to the Sidhe King’s justice.  

*!*!*!*!* 

On the other side of the chasm, the human boy awoke from his long and terrible nightmare.  It had to be a nightmare, right?  He glanced around at his surroundings.  

Where am I?  How did I get here?  Here seemed to be a woodland meadow by the edge of a collection of large boulders.  He could hear thundering water, as if from a waterfall, but he did not see a waterfall, just a gentle, slow moving river.  

He glanced down at his bare arms - thin scars like vines crawled from the backs of his hands, up his arms, and across his torso.  It was just a dream.  It had to be.  But the scars… the scars that were just like… no!  It can’t have been real.  It can’t!  

The human crawled over to the river and peeked at his own reflection in the pool at the water’s edge.  His eyes.  He could see the single shining silver pupil looking back at him.  The thundering water sound grew louder and he glanced with just his silver eye to see the massive waterfall falling onto the rocks by which he’d woken up.  He stumbled backward away from the water.  But, when he turned his full vision on the place, the water disappeared.  

It had not been a dream.  Or a nightmare.  It had been real.  He’d fallen into heaven, which turned out to be hell, and he’d come back, though not unscathed.  The human with the faerie eyes and marked skin got up and ran, for sheer terror that the true Fae would come thundering down that river and drag him back. 

#whumptober2022 #no.21 #coughing up blood #you're safe now #take me instead #OC #original fiction #fic #fae whumper #human whumpee #non human whumper #fae rescuer #captivity #whump #whump writer #whump community #whumpblr #fantasy #fantasy fic #fantasy whump

[whumpitisthen]

Childhood Monster

Loud, rapid footsteps echo back off of the brick walls surrounding him as he runs. Not a soul on the street, not a light on in any of the houses flying past. Only the quiet stillness of the dead district. The Moon shines to light the way for his escape, and panting he follows it, taking lefts and rights until he ducks into an alleyway he hopes his hunter won’t follow him into. He skids to a stop, trying to catch his breath, taking just a few seconds to lean up against a wall and try not to cough up his lungs.

“I can hear you, little one! Don’t stop just yet!" — The voice, playful and unhinged, resonates within the space between each house, between each crack of the asphalt, and he is already barrelling down the alley again, breaths wheezing out of him as he runs until his legs give out, until he can’t anymore. He knows that moment is fast approaching, with the lingering, constant pain in his calves and his struggling chest reminding him that he cannot keep this up much longer. Still, he makes a sound of desperation and flies through the darkness, rushing past trash and showering the bins in puddle water.

The road he takes leads him left, but a deranged, screeching has him skid to a stop barely three steps in, and he quickly changes direction to the opposite way, hoping those red eyes didn’t spot him from across the path. Blind in the shadows cast by the Moon, he crashes into a wall, and looking up and around he realises that he cannot climb it, nor get around it. He’s stuck, and before his thoughts can catch up, he’s already running back from where he came from, but the languid steps of the only other being in this whole goddamn town bouncing between the walls make him stop in his tracks.

He listens, and with each step the monster hunting him creeps closer to its prey. He looks around, manic, hoping; begging to find some form of escape, but the unforgiving alley gives no such mercy. He swallows hard and turns back towards the dead end, and as a last resort he looks for a hiding place. As unlikely as it is to survive this encounter, he cannot give up just yet, not when he was so close. He only needs a moment to breathe, to think; only a second to get past its claws and get to safety.

Time is running out, but no hiding place seems good enough to fool anyone here — bins full to the lid, trash thrown across the pavement, carton boxes wet with rain water too small to fit him —

"Uh oh… That’s no good,” — it mumbles, its voice causing the air and his soul to quiver.

It can’t be more than a corner away, close enough to hear in the fragile silence which can be broken by such quiet words. He hurries to find any cover at all, and when he hears a giggle from just around the corner, he dashes behind a dumpster, putting himself between the wall and some trash. His breathing picks up even more than it did from sprinting across the streets of this dead place in anticipation of coming face-to-face with the cruel beast. His body shudders against the cold surface surrounding him, soaked in rain and sweat, hair sticking to his forehead like roots of a weed into dirt.

The footsteps are coming from the entrance of the narrow alley, slowly approaching his madly beating heart as it hammers like never before.

“Oh — no, sweetheart… That’s so unfortunate.”

He doesn’t know what it means but the faux sympathy and proximity of its voice makes his breath shake. His wet hands find his face, trying to muffle his gasping shivering in the dirt as he is. The steps slow down more, nothing more than a pace one would take on for a walk in the park, and it scares him more than anything. It’s as if it knows he’s close, like it knows where he is already. The light chuckles continue to grow in volume, and he screws his eyes shut, unable to take the stress anymore.

The giggles turn into humming, and the humming into a sigh that sounds like it is right in front of him.

“Ah, sweet thing. Here you are.”

In a split second he opens his eyes to the smile in the voice, sees the demon’s own crimson orbs and sharp fangs glinting down on him from over the bin, and cries out with a leap towards what he knows is a dead end. Any hope he has left is used to fuel his impossible escape, to make way out of this nightmare somehow. He cannot let this happen, not right now, not with this thing. He cannot die here — !

“Haha! So you weren’t too tired to run! I thought you must’ve run out of energy, to wait for me so kindly,” — it bounces in new interest and glee and follows him close behind at a slower pace — to give him a chance of escaping, or because it knows he’s running towards a dead end, he doesn’t know.

He feels tears burning his eyes and blurring his already spotty vision, but he doesn’t stop, not until he reaches that same damn wall at the end of the foggy path. He crashes into it, barely managing to stay upright, and starts wildly looking around, like he somehow missed a secret exit the last time he was there.

“Mm, I see. So that was your plan.” — He twists around to look at the creature walking towards him, and his body shoves itself up against the wall hard enough to dig into his spine. No, this can’t be. This can’t be how it ends. This is too cruel, this isn’t what he deserves, this isn’t how it was supposed to be. If he dies here… This just can’t be how this ends! — “Hide until I move past, then slip out of here. A shame really. It would’ve worked out if you didn’t smell so good. Doesn’t that hurt?”

He looks confused enough for it to stop, a few metres in front of him, and for its face to turn from joyful, to surprised, to overjoyed, laughing that same ugly laugh that has his very core shivering in terror.

“What, have you really not noticed? Did I scare you so much you didn’t feel it through the beating of that little heart? Aw, that’s so sad,” — it drawls, conceit dripping from its words.

It gestures to the ground with a clawed hand, stepping to the side, making his mistake clear as day and the boy’s breath to stop in his throat.

The ground… It shimmers. Not from water, not puddles of rain, it wasn’t wet when he first ran through here. All the way from behind his hunter, to his feet, to his arm. His arm; a diagonal gash across suddenly burning on his skin, bleeding so much that all the monster had to do was follow the trail of crimson. He led it straight here, to his hiding place, to this dead end, to his doom. The beast leans down to dip its finger into the mess and hold it up to him, playing with it between its two fingers.

“You really didn’t even feel it, huh. You cut it on one of the dumpsters you ran past. Led me straight here, without even trying. Oh, that is just too bad. You were so close!” — Its growl of a voice drills into him so deep he can feel the rest of his energy flowing out of him through his tear ducts.

It begins its slow approach once again, and he doesn’t know what to do anymore. There is no secret passage behind the trash, no way to climb the walls, no space to run past it, and even if there was, all it’d need to do is follow the smell of his blood painting arrows to his location for it on the ground. He is trapped, there is no way out of here.

His eyes cloud over with tears, erratic breathing turning into gasping sobs, and he slides down the wall to curl up into a ball right as it reaches him, trying to protect himself as a last survival instinct takes over his crumbling world. He hears the sound of the thing in front of him coming to a stop and he can feel its presence from where he is, its breathing slow and even, like it hadn’t just chased him across half the town. It’s like it never gets tired, like it has no feeling in its muscles telling it to rest, like it doesn’t need to catch its breath, like it was made to hunt, — to chase, to kill, for as long as it lives. And people have known about it for more than two centuries.

He heard the legends; he knows what it does. He knew that if he came here, it would very likely find him, chase him down and devour him and his soul. He had no other choice and he thought he was ready for that, but now that he’s been backed into a corner awaiting his slow and painful end, with the beast leering down at him, he realises that he never wanted it to end like this. He should’ve stayed with the others, should’ve found another way to supply food, or should’ve brought them all along —

No, he had no other choice. It was this, or letting his family starve to death of his own volition. If he brought them, they would’ve all died at the hands of this monster, and he would’ve been the only one at fault. If he had another way to get food, he wouldn’t have come this far in the first place. He knew he was nearing towards his likely death as soon as he set foot out the door of the makeshift bunker they called their home, and he made peace with that.

Now, though… He has to make peace with failing his family all the same, and leaving them alone in this world to fend for themselves.

His shoulders shake, exhausted and terrified, as he tries to steel himself for what he knows is coming.

His hair is knotted around the thing’s clawed fingers and he is dragged up to his tiptoes, then shoved into the wall behind him hard enough that he thinks his skull must have fractured from the impact. His own hands find the monster’s, not to struggle, only to hold on to something while he dies. Its other hand slides along his face to make him look up, and he screws his eyes shut, not wanting to look into those terrible, unnatural reds. He heard its pupils shrink to a slit when it’s about to bite, and he doesn’t want to witness that.

“Aw, don’t tell me you’re crying already. I’ve barely even touched you…” — it coos at him, clearly enjoying its view of his misery.

It lets go of his hair, and instead uses both hands to hold his face on each side, almost gently, like a mother would to try and calm her child. He can feel its cold breath on his skin. — “Look at me, will you,” — it says, voice a whisper compared to the screeching cackling that was pouring out of it just a minute ago. A growl is under that disturbingly human melody, the slightest hint that it is not what it appears to be at first glance. It sounds exactly like what it’s supposed to; a monster trying to sound like a person. Its claws dig into his cheeks unpleasantly, but not yet painful, pulling him closer, — “Come on, I haven’t had the chance to take a good look at those pretty things under there. Open them for me?”

He tries to shake his head, childishly, foolishly, and the claws draw blood. The being sighs a good-natured sound, and he would see it tilt its head at him if his eyes were open.

“You know I will see them one way or another. I will peel those lids away and keep them for myself. If you stay still enough,” — The easy tone of its voice sends a shudder down his spine, — “It would be a shame to ruin those pretty eyes because you squirmed around too much. Don’t you think so? It would hurt a lot more, too…” — it muses.

The proximity and the pain of the grip the thing has on him mixed with the exhaustion and desperation of being hunted has him making a lot more sounds than he means to, but he cannot bring himself to care in this situation. His energy is quickly depleting, the adrenaline running out, and he loses balance, almost hitting his head on the one holding him as he stumbles on his toes. It’s quick to fix his mistake by grabbing him by the throat and pushing him back into the wall without a second thought, making breathing even harder as his trachea is crushed. He opens his eyes now, looking up at the dark sky instead of the being’s glowing blood red irises, but it doesn’t seem to mind; it grins at him all the same.

“There you go. That’s better. Oh, such a vibrant bright blue!” — it chortled at him, glad it waited for him to show his eyes on his own, — “Are you whimpering? Such a weak little thing, aren’t you?” — It watches him struggle under the unending pressure on his throat in glee, watches as he flails around weakly and nears unconsciousness, and then lets him go suddenly to fall back onto the ground wheezing. He coughs and tries to get back up as soon as he’s aware that he fell, but a heavy foot on his chest keeps him pinned down in the dirty alleyway, making it impossible to catch his breath, which in turn pulls more of those noises it so loves to hear forcefully out of his throat.

“Mm. Just like a kicked puppy. Makes me want to eat you right up,” — it rasps out, its grin widening into one showing fangs and far too many sharp teeth to be normal.

It puts more pressure on those fragile ribs as it crouches to look at him better, then straddles him so it can watch him panic from even closer. It places a hand on that rapidly beating heart, feeling it jump to it from behind its cage of bones, calling to it, telling it to tear it out of him already.

The boy flinches back into the ground as the other hand comes back up to his face to catch a tear sliding down the winding track made by the tears flowing before. The finger stays for a couple seconds, which is long enough for him to look into those eyes finally, questioning and begging, confused by the pause and petrified under the gaze of this demon and the closeness of its claws to his very eyes; the eyes it was so quick to offer to rip out if he didn’t play along. Its own eyes crinkle in mischief as its tongue snakes out to lick its lips, and it brings the finger wet with his tears to its mouth to taste him. It lets its eyes close for just a second and sighs contentedly, seemingly savouring the flavour, moving along to an inaudible melody as it swallows.

“You’re a special one, dear. Such a sweet aroma, and an even sweeter taste, — you are lovely,” — it says, its tone quickly turning lustful.

He watches it finally look back at him with renewed enthusiasm, and almost forgets to squirm — until it puts both hands on him for balance and leans over him, eyes glowing in the dark. His struggle is meaningless; no matter how hard he tries to push it away, it’s as if he’s trying to make a bear move. No give, no distance gained, and if anyone was watching them, they would think he wasn’t even trying. It’s just like in the stories — ‘Looks no stronger than a mere young man, yet has the vigour of a hundred and one! If it catches you, there is no escaping, not unless it lets you run to chase you until your legs give out.’

It tilts its head at him, like it doesn’t feel his hands on itself trying to push it away, and keeps smiling, keeps watching, keeps licking its lips and keeps leaning closer until —

Its pupils shrink to slits and he freezes, before shrieking like a banshee as one hand wrenches his head to the side, another keeping his own out of the way, and it forces its way to his neck in a split second with an inhuman growl, fangs scraping against his skin. He waits for his throat to be ripped apart, and those few seconds feel like days, like an eternity, lived without hope and freedom. His life is flashing before his eyes as his body accepts its end, and he doesn’t even breathe, his heart almost stopping before it is forced to.

So when the monster backs off of him, muttering something to itself, he doesn’t remember to keep living, only when a light slap and a coo leads him back to reality. He doesn’t expect to be alive still and, for just a moment, he is convinced that he is a ghost lying inside his body, about to witness it being torn apart. But, when he feels the touch of it, and the gentle sounds of ‘Breathe, breathe, little one' he does obey, gasping shallow breaths like he doesn’t believe that it’s safe to do so. His body is shivering wildly, and his eyes, though he can’t see it himself, have become dilated, which does make the thing giggle.

“Dear me, you look half dead already. You didn’t expect me to kill you off so early, did you? No, not you. How could I stop a beating heart supplying such incredible taste?” — it says, seemingly having forgotten about his 'vibrant bright blues’, staring at the hammering pulse in his neck instead. Its thumb finds the rhythm and it takes a couple seconds for it to blink rapidly, shake its head and come back to earth to continue its monologue, — “I can feel you are different from the others. Everything about you tells me that you should not die here. Your will is strong, and your mind at ease. Most others would not even hear me right now, but I can tell you understand every word I say despite your mind breaking apart inside of you.”

It takes the arm that is creating a crimson puddle on the concrete to lift to its mouth and taste the wound. The sensation of a slimy muscle sliding over his burning flesh makes him jerk away and cry out in terror and pain, succeeding on tearing away his limb, which in turn makes him think that he can escape from its hold. He finds a newfound power to keep struggling, eventually 'escaping’ from under the body pinning him, — that lets up of its own accord to see him squirm, — and his instincts tell him one thing only: away from that thing.

Unfortunately, the only away he’s capable of is right into the wall behind him, but he’s too preoccupied with his own panic to even notice how hard he knocks his head off the bricks, eyes glued to the creature. He has gained barely a metre of distance.

“You didn’t come here unknowing of me. You’ve heard of me, haven’t you?” — it asks, head tilted and eyes searching his face. Its joyful expression seems to be stuck on his face permanently.

‘Oh, have I. It’s hard to miss all the legends about you when our own mother has told them to us since childhood. A rule as important as to never accept candy from strangers: ‘Never tread near that side of town.’’

He says nothing, continuing his silence, only swallows heavily. He doesn’t see the relevance of that now, but he is yet to be eaten so he doesn’t complain. It tilts its head at him more, curiosity glowing in its eyes.

“You have! I can see it in your expression! You’ve heard some stories, have you! You know what you’re in for then? I am interested in what you think is about to happen.” — The excitement coming off it in waves does nothing to soothe his thoughts or heartbeat — however, it efficiently succeeds in making them both stutter. It’s closing in once again, and he cannot bring himself to do anything more than flatten himself against the wall and cower. The thing only takes a knee in front of him, deciding on what to do next.

“…You do not talk much, do you? — it inquires in a low tone, — “Another fascinating aspect of you. Terror swallows you whole any time I move an inch, yet not a word escapes that pretty throat. Peculiar. Mute perhaps.”

He sees an opportunity there and takes it without thinking, surprising the creature as it was about to continue whatever it was going to do. He forces his wavering, broken voice to cooperate just long enough to utter these words — louder than intended:

“I- I can talk!”

He felt it is a good way to distract it, maybe gain its liking enough to make his death swifter if he tries to play along. It doesn’t say anything back, only watches him in thought with a frown on its face, and he knows he is sure to die now; he pissed it off somehow and now he’s going to be killed.

“You are fascinating… Others would be screaming for mercy before I could even touch them, and the first thing you say to me is such a simple statement — almost sounding like you’re correcting me as well,” — sneers the monster, making him bite his tongue instantly.

The way it keeps talking like he’s not even there — like it’s watching him through a screen that he can’t hear it mumbling to itself across, observing every little detail and movement, — freaks him out to no end. It hums to itself as it holds him under scrutiny, as he curls up and holds himself. Keeps tilting its head this way and that.

“Mmh… I wonder…” — It launches forward at a speed impossible to see with the human eye, and he finds himself lying on the ground once again, with the monster on top of him forcing his arms to each side. He doesn’t have time to react before he is being undressed by those claws tearing through the fabric over his chest. He gets nicked in the process, which makes him squeal helplessly, and soon it has full view of his naked skin. He screws his eyes shut, and expects to be torn into — for the third or so time tonight, — breath held.

It touches the skin over his heart, and then leans over to, — to listen to it. Its hair is touching his skin and he doesn’t dare move an inch.

Seconds pass, and it lifts its head again, a smile on its face.

“Your heart is hammering, you’ve heard about me before you came, you think you will surely die here; — and yet you still act so fearless in front of me. So brave, braver than any of the others, and smart. Like you’re on a mission.” — It seems to have realised that he is trying to play mind games, however unsuccessfully, and he is sure it is intelligent enough to outsmart him. The buzz in his head that won’t go away gets louder the longer it stares at him, starting to feel more like pins and needles in his brain.

It lets up on him; back to straddling him, but not gripping him anymore. Another expression takes over; one that could only be described as serious.

“If you can talk, answer me this: why have you come here?”

He only now dares to open his eyes with tears streaming down his face, yet he doesn’t show more fear than what is natural for any animal — pure, an instinct, not tainted with arrogance and selfishness. He is starting to shut down now; he was already exhausted when he ended up knocked against a dead end, now he has been scared to death so many times his system feels like it’s giving up on him. The creature is losing patience quickly, and its knee finds his chest to dig into as it leans over him once again, wrenching his head to the side to pin and to talk into his ear to make sure he understands well. — “I do not conversate nearly this much with my prey, and I would hope you won’t cut this newfound hobby of mine short.”

He takes a few breaths to calm the chills in his bones as an unnatural sound resembling whispering fills his head, and tries his best to speak without slurring or stuttering his words too much. His brain feels like it is being scraped with those claws digging into his skin.

“F-, Food. For, for fam-, family. Siblings, at home, haven’t eaten, in days, m-my love, sick, our, o-our pet, a cat… No food anywhere, had to come here, didn’t, didn’t… Have a choice. P-Please…” — His words halt with a sob and it thinks he has finally broken and about to turn into the begging little mess he was made to be, but he continues, — “I, I can’t die here, not without food. Please, please help us. You can do whatever you want with me, I won’t tell anyone if you let me go, and I won’t run if you don’t, just please, please don’t let my death be the cause of theirs!”

Those last few words truly unravel him, but instead of the usual pathetic pile of whining meat that only cares about its own safety, he begs not for his, but his family’s well-being, while throwing his own to the wolves, to the claws holding him down, to the fangs grazing his ear.

The beast is stunned. It doesn’t know if he’s stupid, crazy or just that desperate, but the furrowed brows tell the young man that it is interested, or at least distracted.

“Have you lost your mind? You would really come here, to the ‘blood-thirsty monster' of this district, known for its gruesome work and horror legends describing each victim’s deaths in detail, — and ask it for help? Beg for food for a starving family — you would trust me to keep them alive in your stead?”

The baffled expression it wears could make him laugh if he could see through the tears, but all he manages to whimper out from under the pressure on his chest is; — “I have no other choice…”

And the monster, although merciless, cruel and downright evil by most people’s standards, a creature of the night hunting for fresh blood until dawn each day, turned from a myth to a legend to a warning for everyone planning to go towards its den… It shakes its head with a breathy laugh, deciding that this boy cannot be killed here. He is more than the average selfish, arrogant, dumb bags of flesh walking into its area thinking they can make it out alive. He knew where he would go would surely kill him, and didn't expect anything less, yet 'till his last breath all he cares about is his people. Not once had he begged for his own benefit, only his family’s. He is ready to give up everything for them, even his life; even his freedom.

It gets up off of him, and pulls him up with itself, rougher than needed, but no less than expected. He is allowed to lean on it as he almost loses balance, eyes once again screwed shut on instinct, — maybe one of the stories he had heard about it had something to say about eye contact, with all the time he spends finding new ways to not have to look at it, — and the boy has never been so careful to touch anything before in his life. Even with his legs feeling like jelly, he only dares to use the tips of his fingers, barely weighing on it, afraid that he will seem disrespectful and killed, apologising for anything and everything he does. His family will be killed for sure now that he has told it about them, stupid, stupid! He wasn’t supposed to say anything until he was sure that he could trust it not to find them just to kill off his family with him.

Oh, what does it matter? Finding the narrowest paths in between these mile wide chasms of death is why he is in this situation, most of his choices would lead to them all dying sooner or later. And ironically, the only path that leads to his sure death is the one that could bring the most benefit to his family.

It stands so much taller than he is, he can tell just from how much higher its voice is coming from now that they’re both standing so close, and he cannot even begin to comprehend the feelings coursing through his entire being standing face-to-face — or face-to-chest, more like, — with the nightmare that haunts this end of the town. He almost feels like it is some divine angel, or demon, or a god, with how much power it has over his fate in that moment. It could break his spine in an instant, tear out his bones, tear off his ligaments one by one, and he would not be able to do a thing about it, nor would anyone else, no matter what they would do or how hard they would try. People are powerless against it, that is the whole reason it exists so freely, and that feeling of powerlessness is so damning when he is at its mercy like this that he swears his lungs don’t find the air to breathe, as if it is actively taking the air out of them somehow.

His head is once again lifted to look at its face, and he does so without hesitation now, making sure he listens to every word it says, trying to show it that he truly does mean what he said. The expression on its face returns to a happy one, but it contains a little more of something deeper, something old and hidden.

“You really are a fascinating little critter. Unfortunate, yet brave, full of… potential. Determination,” — it muses about him out loud, its growl of a voice shifting between animalistic and human wildly.

He finds his footing finally, letting go of it as soon as he’s able, and it takes the opportunity to take a look at him again, from front to back, top to bottom. Slides claws through his locks, watches him freeze when it leans down to look closer at his overwhelmed form, vibrating with nerves. Lifts one of his arms, touches the goosebumps rising over his skin, sees his fingers twitch, his naked back shine with sweat. He keeps his head looking straight, not daring to talk or move, feeling like he is being judged by God himself deciding on if he will be going to Heaven or Hell.

It comes back around and his shining wide eyes look up at it in such an adorable way as he expects the answer that it can’t keep its hands from mushing his cheeks, which confuses and scares him at once, and it finally asks —

“Where do you live, dear?”

He almost forgets how to form words in his tense twitching flesh.

“A-Are you, are you letting me go?”

“You’re not quite used to me, so I will let it go this time, but I really don’t like being answered with a question,” — it says, and its expression does not change even slightly, making him suspect that the threat wasn’t meant to be a threat but a promise. His spine shivers with unease in the face of such casual predator behaviour.

“Oh, o-oh, of course, I’m sorry, I didn’t know, I’m… I live a, about five kilometres from the town square. To the, the um, East. From there. Underground, in the basement of an, an abandoned house. We made it our h-home,” — he manages to stammer out. It tilts its head in amusement again, gazing at his chest like it's searching for something, like it's reading him like a book, and then makes eye contact again. Its crimson irises are the most intimidating thing he has ever witnessed.

“You would tell me where your family is just like that? I haven’t agreed to anything yet,” — it questions.

He isn’t sure how to answer, and the question itself makes him fear for his siblings’ and his lover’s lives, but he decides there is no going back from here. He has given away their fate already, right into the hands of this eldritch horror, and all he can do now is pray that it will choose to help. He responds — “I, I trust you. Their lives, as well as mine, are in your hands. If I do not bring food to them, they will die come, come next week, and I won’t be able to go out again, not after this. I am weak, I know I am, so please, please help us. I will do my end of the agreement to the best of my abilities, I promise.”

A couple heavy breaths, and he ends with; —

“I’ve, I-I have heard, that you can um, you can tell when someone lies to you, somehow. Maybe you can feel it, I don’t know, but-, but I do know that I wouldn’t dare lie, if what I heard is true. But you know that already, if it’s, i-if it’s true…” — he rambles awkwardly, remembering suddenly that it seemed interested in the stories told about it. He doesn’t know if it’s because it feels proud of itself, or because it seeks to gather information.

He finds eye contact impossible while blundering, but he hopes it sees that he is trying his best; through every stumble and stutter, through every instance of forced eye contact that is broken by him in a second, through each fidget of his knuckles and shiver of his breath. He will kneel and beg if that’s the convincing it desires. He will stay right here in this alley to rot until it comes back to finish the job if it means that the food will be delivered. He will walk all the way home holding its hand to lead it right to their door, right into his home, if it wants. There is no going back anymore.

“I would love to listen to some of these stories you have heard. Not many of you escape me, and the few I let go surely embellish my abilities. Do you think you can recite them to me?” — it grins again, leaning over him. He doesn’t think it was meant to intimidate him, more curiosity, but he cannot help shrinking away slightly from it.

“Um, of, of course! If that is what you, uh, desire…”

The sloppy try at sounding polite makes it laugh, but he takes it for a good sign, instead of dwelling on it being mockery. Keep it in a good mood, do as it says, and hope for the best.

“Ah, well… You’re quite an unfortunate soul, I think it is about time you gather some luck on your side for once,” — it says, a claw finding his hair again, its gaze travelling his features constantly.

His eyes widen and he tries not to get his hopes up until the words finally leave its mouth; —

“Be it, then. You win. I’ll help your little family out,” — it says with a warm, non-threatening, non-carnivorous smile on its lips, and he sobs in joy; in pure unadulterated relief and he would scream to the skies if he dared, because he did it, he succeeded, not the way he wanted to, but it doesn’t matter! He did it, he really did it…

He can barely talk through his wheezing, almost laughs, almost sobs, thanking this dangerous, horrible being until he runs out of breath. And he does it with his body when he runs out of voice; — he bows, he puts his hands together, he looks into its eyes through the tears blinding him and nods. Falls to his knees, and doesn’t even feel the impact, doesn’t care.

The monster isn’t quite used to this reaction, but luckily it finds it more amusing than annoying, especially after all the overly polite talk from him. It pets his hair as he weeps on his knees, and he doesn’t even flinch, which is also different. He will be afraid again soon enough, but for now, this is entertaining for it, and deserving for such a golden hearted fool. Because he must be one, must not even be twenty years old, but so ready to put all the rest of his life into the monster’s just for some bread. It’s endearing, and a picture of his end of the bargain is slowly coming together in its head.

It sits next to him to watch him cry, and it would be unnerving if he had the energy to care at all. He wouldn’t argue if it tried to bite through his throat again. What surprises him is that it waits for him to rest and calm down, and doesn’t say a word until he does.

“Thank you, um… Sir…?”

He finishes lamely, but the creature likes the ring of that.

“You keep coming up with new ways to flatter me! Such a kind boy,” — it ruffles his hair with a snicker. It seems to really like his hair, he notes numbly.

It reaches for his head again, and in a moment of true weakness, he leans towards it, hoping to keep it interested and entertained. The feeling of claws running along his scalp — he will never get used to.

“So? Are you done with your crying?”

“Y-Yes, I am now. Sorry,” — he apologises with a bowed head, quickly wiping away his tears.

“Oh, it’s alright. You are very well-behaved compared to most other humans I meet. I’m more used to cursing than flattery. I’m also more used to screams,” — it adds, once again seemingly not realising how horrible the things it says sound.

He shivers with how casual it talks about the agony it inflicts. Like humans are nothing more than food with legs. Oh yeah, the food!

“Um, so… Wh-, how is this going to happen? What, what do I have to do? Because I will do anything! I can show you the, th- where I live. Or, uh-um —”

It pushes a finger up against his lips and he is muted in an instant, — “Don’t ramble too much, you’ll give me ideas.”

He realises it’s probably a joke, but he feels it to be very good advice in his current predicament. He nods, remaining silent, but alert.

“I have no need for your help anymore. You have given me enough to find your family. Not many hearts still beat on that side of town, finding — how many was it? Three people? And a cat?”

He nods again, reminded of the miserable state he had left them in suddenly, visibly deflating. He didn’t even realise that he told it about the cat.

“Mhm, so three plus one hearts beating underground, about five kilometres East, you said?”

He nods again.

“Didn’t you say something about one of them being sick? Your lover?”

“Oh, um, yes. They are.”

“Do they need medicine too?”

He shakes his head, then goes to clarify, —

“Their health deteriorated because of the, uh, the lack of food. I think they will get better if they eat again, I wouldn’t dare ask for more from you…”

It takes his hands to play with, pulling him close with no warning or hesitation, and another thing he realises he could never get used to is how easily it can move him — how it will do so whenever it feels like it without a question, as if he is some toy to be played around with. He looks down to their hands, and he has never seen his own look quite as small as they do now.

“Mmmh… Any deathly allergies I should know about?”

“No, none at all,” — he dutifully answers, slightly surprised by the fact that it knows what allergies are, and then the fact that it would even consider its prey’s allergies.

“I see. So, what would you like to give them?”

He stops for a second. He never expected to be given a choice.

“Uh. Are, are there options?”

“I can give them anything,” — it says simply, gaze still stuck to his knuckles bending this way and that.

He has no idea what to ask for, so he just settles on, — “Whatever is easiest and quickest to get.”

A second later quickly adds; — “Warm, if possible? I-If it isn’t trouble, I mean. But, but we would be content with some ingredients too! Whatever you, you s-see fit.”

“Will you come see them?” — Its eyes leave his hands for a second. Again, he wasn’t expecting to be given a choice, or it to be so considerate towards its meal.

“…If you’ll allow me.”

“Are you sure? Do you really want to show up, only to leave them for the rest of their lives?”

His stomach drops at the way his fate is phrased. He really will die, then. By the hands of this demon. But, somehow, he cannot find it in himself to dwell on it at all. Maybe it’s exhaustion, maybe wilful ignorance.

“I would like to see them one last time,” — he confirms, quietly.

“How dramatic of you,” — it giggles, and he is once again reminded of the fact that it finds his misery entertaining.

His hands are bent at unnatural angles, but they are let go when he starts wincing. It’s surprisingly gentle. Almost like a child discovering the wonder of bodies and how they work for the first time. He doubts that what’s happening in its mind is nearly that wholesome though.

“Do you know what will happen to you?” — it asks.

He shakes his head. He can’t bring himself to think about it.

“Aren’t you afraid?” — it asks.

He nods. I am.

He feels numb, and like he could fall asleep right there as a strange sense of faux safety seeps into his body. The buzz in his head returns.

“You’re sleepy, aren’t you?” — it looks at him again, eyes mesmerising.

He heard it could read people’s minds, and he hasn’t believed that until right this moment. The cold winds of the darkness have chilled him deep enough to have him shivering on his knees.

“I will sleep after I see my family enjoying their meal and healing,” — comes his grim reply.

“Haha, of course,” — it responds, then lifts his arm up, the one covered in blood, — “but if you really want to survive long enough to see them again, you’ll have to keep some blood inside, don’t you think?”

Oh. He forgot about that completely, but before he could think of a way to bandage it somehow, the thing just lifts it to its mouth without another word, and starts licking the length of the wound slowly. He shudders and decides to look away and endure, just like he has made the same decision many times this night. It burns, it really does, but he chokes down his pain and waits for it to finish, hoping that it somehow won’t get infected; because who knows what kind of brain eating bacteria live in a creature’s mouth such as this one.

A minute later it whistles at him to get his attention. Lets go of his arm, and stands up. The wound is gone, the blood has quenched the thirst of the monster for now. It healed him. Completely. His wound is just gone, and it has been replaced by a long white scar spanning his entire forearm. How? Why?

He looks up at it with wonder and bewilderment. Its expression — kind, for once. A twisted expression to wear on a face that has his blood smeared over its lips.

“You are one confusing human, little one. You might be the only one who could have pulled this off. The only one fearless enough to even try, not out of your own needs, but for others’.”

It motions for him to follow, already walking away from him, and he feels all kinds of wrong following it into the darkness, to a place he might meet his doom at. He stumbles after him, trying to pick up the pace, now realising how much longer its strides are than his. Every step for it is two and a half for him. No wonder it caught up to him so quickly. Its steps, as heavy as they are, are silent now. Was it making its location obvious on purpose then? He can feel the ground tremble with each step, but not a sound. It had to have been fun for it to herd him like a shepherd dog would its sheep. Herding him to a dead end.

...Oh.

It hasn’t been two whole minutes of walking, and his mind is already overridden by nerves. Somehow, going along with it all willingly as opposed to having his fate forced upon him makes his guts twist around his heart in anxiety. He can’t help forming a dry sentence, — “Uh, wh-, where are we going, exactly?”

It looks back at him, noticing the distance between them for the first time, and chuckles.

“What, not even a ‘Sir’? Where did your courteous submissive attitude go all of a sudden? I liked it,” — its voice drops an octave out of nowhere as it says that, making its words sound like threats.

He hurries to fix his mistake, almost falling over when his foot catches on a broken piece of asphalt in his agitated confusion. — “U-Um…! I’m sorry, I-I meant to uh-, I m-mean, Sir-!”

It snickers at him as he tries to gather his thoughts, ultimately ending with another apology as he realises that it’s just messing with him. He keeps his head low in any case.

Half a minute later, the beast stops and answers.

“Come here.” — It waits for him to catch up, then takes his hand and matches its speed with his. — “Is that better, dearie?” — it says in a mocking tone, similar to a grandmother. Scarily accurate, in fact.

Can it mimic human voices?

He nods, ignoring all the feelings of fear, humiliation, and a little bit of awe that envelop him in the instant his hand is grabbed and not in a forceful, dangerous way, but as if a large cat decided to intertwine its dangerous sharp clawed fingers with his. Doesn’t dare look up to it, not while his blood is burning his face in response to this overly gentle, almost motherly gesture. He almost chokes when it starts to brush its thumb over his fingers in a slow back and forth.

It absolutely did this just to humiliate him. Acting like he’s some lost child. With the power difference between them, he might as well be. He chances a look up at it, and its face shows nothing but glee. Of course.

“…Is this necessary?” — he asks timidly, feeling frustrated for the first time.

“Yes,“ — it answers with a smirk.

He sighs a deep sigh, but doesn’t say anything more. It starts humming and swinging their hands back and forth as they walk to wherever it is they’re going. It looks down at him, but when it only sees a scowl, it looks downright perplexed.

“What’s wrong? Is this not what you wanted? Your family will be saved.”

He looks up at it incredulously, gathering any leftover morsel of bravery and every bit of frustration he had pushed down along with his newfound anger to say this next sentence; —

“My family is currently starving to death, waiting for me to return, and I’m here taking a stroll in some alley, holding your hand, Sir. Forgive me if I’m not enjoying myself quite as much as you seem to —”

His hand is crushed suddenly with inhuman force and he screams, trying to pull away, but only succeeds in causing more pain for himself. He struggles to keep walking as he cries, the monster not letting go for a second as it drags him along.

“Careful now. I thought you’ve caught on already,” — it warns in that scary tone again, somehow squeezing even harder, and he has never felt more pain than the agony flowing through his entire body in waves, — “I, at any moment, could decide not to humour you. You’re here for entertainment, nothing else. As soon as keeping you around becomes less fun than what I originally planned to have you endure, your family are marked for death, just like you.”

His hand is finally let go, and it takes his all not to fall to his knees to curl up and weep right then and there, aware that the monster will not wait for him to catch up again. It grabs his face to make him look into its slit pupils.

“So behave for me, would you? Don’t let all that good luck go to waste now,“ — it growls, shaking his head when he doesn’t find it in himself to answer right away, — “Hm?”

He nods hysterically, wheezing in whimpering breaths and trembling in place as he’s forced to look into those terrifying eyes once more tonight. It looks at him for a couple more seconds, then lets him go, expression returning to one that is way too different to belong to the same horrible creature that just shattered his arm like that, without warning, without remorse.

“Good,” — it exclaims, — “come along now! We’re going Home!”

<3

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

#whump #creepy whumper #intimate whumper #my writing #fear #whump writing #sadistic whumper #begging #failed escape #non human whumper #vampire whumper #power dynamics #religious tw #tw: starvation #it as pronoun #broken bones #gore description #blackmail #horror #edited