Pet curled up on the sofa at his side, their head on Master’s thigh. Master Parry would never have allowed Pet to do that and Pet relished the closeness, and the way that Master stroked them without ever pulling on their fur.
Master was kind, kinder than Huck deserved, and soon Huck would get a new owner where they’d have to earn their food and their privileges again. This was the exception, not the rule. Huck would enjoy Master Stephen’s kindness and his relaxed rules, but they wouldn’t let themself get used to it.
They’d finally accepted that they could do nothing. That humans ruled their life; always had and always would, and Pet controlled nothing, no matter how good they were or how hard they tried.
They knew that being bad, being useless and ugly and injured would make everything so much worse.
And nothing good ever happened to unwanted creatures.
how long has it been since i did original content on here (ages, it’s been ages)
Anyway… I had a couple whumpy ideas about how a half-snake person would make a good whumper, caretaker and/or whumper, so here you are :3
Snake Hybrid Whumper
- a venomous snake whumper who keeps their whumpee(s) continually dosed with venom, which may be soporific, paralytic, and/or addictive.
- you could go the intimate!whumper direction and have the whumper bite the whumpee, or it could through a sterile syringe.
- a boa-constrictor type whumper could capture their victims by wrapping them up in their coils, if they have the lower body of a snake. Or perhaps they just really enjoy strangling/choking their victims.
- a cold-blooded whumper might keep the whumpee’s prison far too warm, especially if the whumpee is a hybrid of a creature from a cold environment, or which has a lot of fur.
- the whumper might keep a whumpee that’s also a snake hybrid, and knows exactly how to make them uncomfortable/sick.
Snake Hybrid Whumpee
- hisses when scared, which the whumper mocks.
- they’ve had their venom fangs removed, which was very painful and left them feeling vulnerable. If the whumpee escapes, they might struggle to hunt their prey.
- a snake hybrid whumpee might be self-conscious of their eating habits, which have been viewed with disgust by others, as they swallow prey whole.
- they may be vulnerable after eating a large meal, as they go sluggish and weak, which is when the whumper strikes [not sure how accurate that one is].
- they became a snake hybrid through extensive experimentation, which was very painful.
- shedding their scales is uncomfortable and difficult to scratch when their hands are bound.
- a hybrid not being looked after properly by a human whumper or caretaker who is ignorant of their needs, or neglectful. The snake hybrid doesn’t get the right food/have the right temperature, etc.
- hybrid picking at their scales when stressed, scales not growing back where they’ve been scarred (by the whumper or in an accident), whumper cutting off their scales (possibly because they’re valuable).
- a whumper harvesting the whumpee’s venom, because it’s valuable (as poison/weapon/medicine).
Snake Hybrid Caretaker
- a hybrid caretaker who’s venomous and absolutely willing to use that to protect their whumpee. The whumpee was afraid at first, but now they feel safe.
- a symbiotic relationship between a whumpee that runs hot and a hybrid caretaker as the whumpee curls up in the caretaker’s coils and feels safe there. The caretaker in return gets their own little heater.
- a hybrid caretaker would know exactly how to care for their own kind, and to read their body language. If they speak in hisses, it may be that the caretaker is the only one who understands them, and hasn’t treated them as an animal, in years.
- a hybrid caretaker who catches prey for the whumpees they care for, who have had their venom fangs removed.
~
okie… that’s all i think! Anyone has anymore ideas, or does a story based off these, pls tag me! I’m gonna tag @deluxewhump because she knows snakes and might tell me if i made any glaring mistakes, hope you don’t mind <3
Also there is a Masterpost (posts 1- 29) for this series here.
(Mythical whump series 30 - continuations on request)
If you’d like a mythical creature done for this, send me an ask!! <3
thank you all so much for your patience! and for all the lovely birthday wishes <3 i hope this was worth the wait! also I know fuck all about medical stuff, please forgive me lol
CW: dehumanisation, pet whumpee, self-harm mentions, very negative thoughts towards not being able to walk (please note: Rowe’s negativity towards not being able to walk comes entirely from the fact he was trained to kneel & doesn’t feel that he’s ‘earned’ the right to rest, and nothing else)
-
‘’The hospital says your leg should be fine to walk on in like a week,’’ Master said, holding the letter out for Rowe to see. Rowe breathed a sigh of relief. ‘’But that’s obviously complete bullshit. They’re only saying that because you’re a Pet. You’ll need to rest for at least a month.’’
you can love someone so much platonically that it feels like you’re gonna die. platonic feelings can be just as intense as romantic ones, and that doesn’t make them any less platonic.
i can never get enough of the concept of they could if they wanted to
-a whumpee who struggles to relax around their tall, muscular caretaker who towers over them with their huge hands and and strong arms. it doesn’t matter how many times the caretaker reassures them that they would never hurt them, the whumpee just can’t stop thinking that if they ever decided to hurt them it would be so easy
-when the team find the whumpee chained up, chest exposed, and their whole body feels ice cold with fear because they’re so vulnerable and they could just hurt them right now and the whumpee couldn’t do anything about it
-struggling to fall asleep once they’ve been rescued because then they’re powerless
-freaking out every time the caretaker has a weapon on them, even if theyre just innocently chopping vegetables or fixing their car
how does the caretaker get through to the whumpee? how do they convince them that friends don’t hurt one another? how do they get the whumpee to let their defences down and actually start to heal?
Dehydration tw, vomit mention tw, a bit of noncon touching
Taglist: @mnmlover2002
The first day was hell. Leo couldn’t sleep because of the pain on his right arm, searing and burning. He was wincing and biting his bottom lip every time he’d try to move. He felt exhausted, barely noticing the passing of time. At some point, he managed to fall asleep. It was a dreamless, empty sleep and when he woke up, it was nighttime, as it was when he’d last closed his eyes. I’ve either been sleeping for a long or a short while, he thought, sighing.
His body was sore, and his arms numb, but that was only to be expected. Silent, indulged in his thoughts, he could only wait for the hours to pass, for Marcus to bring him some food or water. His throat was dry, and it ached after his screams had torn it apart. But before Marcus came the sunrise, and he raised his head to watch it, once again. It felt comforting by now.
Leo’s stomach had been complaining for a while, now. He hadn’t eaten at all the day that had passed, and, assuming he hadn’t been asleep for 24 hours, he’d been without a meal for more than an entire day. Without water, either. He sighed again, tired, and focused his eyes on the railings, watching the motions the trees made in the autumn air. At least he was protected from the cold. The house was warm and seemed to be comfortable -well, for anyone who wasn’t cuffed to a wall.
I am yet to read your stuff but could I request 'Be Careful What You Wish For' and 'Carved Mark' from your BTHB card? :D
Okay this is quite a bit into the story but I’m not planning on writing it chronologically so here we are! Thank you so much for the request!! <3
TW: captivity, knives, blood, burns.
It was an especially bad day for Leo. He watched the sunrise through the window on the opposite wall. Every day, cuffed to the wall, he’d either wake up to it or waiting for it, when he couldn’t sleep. It was his only contact with the outside world in -ah, he didn’t know how long. He dreaded the day that was starting. Marcus’ birthday. He’d been teasing that something big would happen, for days now, so when the metal door opened, hours later, the younger man could only hold his breath in anticipation of what the other would do.
Marcus entered the room with a big, innocent smile, one that would look silly on a man of his build, if Leo didn’t already know what he was like. He was like a small child, this 6’2 man that could make Leo disappear in one mood swing. “Good morning, love! Today is such a beautiful day, isn’t it?”
“Sure”, Leo sighed, trying to calm his terrified thoughts.
“Let’s get you off these, shall we”, Marcus said to himself, unlocking the cuffs, allowing Leo to fall onto him for a couple of seconds, until he regained his balance. He may have been used to this by now, but that didn’t make it any easier. His arms were in more pain every day.
“Today is my birthday, you know”, said the man while the both of them were walking down a hallway and then some stairs to reach the basement.
“I know, you didn’t really shut up about it”, said Leo, although the second part of the sentence he chewed up.
“You’re, y’ know, kind of obligated to do what I say today. But I’ll let that slide, because I want you to see the present I’ve prepared”.
“You made yourself a present? That’s kinda sad, Marcus”.
“I’ve only thought of the idea,” he said, “you’ll be the one to execute it, babe”.
Dread appeared in the form of cold sweat over his body when Leo heard that, and he felt his heart skip a beat. Involuntarily, he slowed his pace, but Marcus gave him a dangerous look. That was enough to get his speed back up. “What do you want me to do?”
“Oh, you’ll see in a moment”, Marcus said and patted the shorter’s hair gently. He opened the door to the basement and half turned his body towards Leo. “I’m going inside to prepare it. Do not. Move.”
He needn’t say anything more. Despite the thoughts running wild inside his head, he knew he couldn’t try running away. The doors would be locked, same with the windows, and this was a lake house, he’d likely not see any roads or other people for miles. Leo had given up on escaping after the failed attempt, which’s consequences still made his body hurt. He could feel his breaths getting shaky, could feel his legs twitching, beginning to tremble, but he tried to stay still. He tried to calm himself. He didn’t know what was behind the door. It was the first time Marcus had led him this far from his room, and he didn’t think anything good could have come out of that.
The door handle creaked, yanking him out of his thoughts -for the better, probably, because they were only causing him panic.
“Come inside, sweety, here”. Taking his hand, Marcus led him to the interior, which was mostly empty, save from the metal chair in the middle of it, a small table with wheels, and a hanging light bulb. He chose not to look on what was on top of the table. The setting was ominous enough already.
“There’s usually more stuff in basements. Isn’t yours way too empty for a rich man?” he tried to joke, to keep up appearances, but as Marcus was pushing him down, tying his limbs to the arms and legs of the chair, he couldn’t help his trembling body. “What are you going to do”, he asked again, still refusing to look at the tabletop.
“Well, A, nobody has used this place before us so there’s not much stuff around and B, I’m going to make you my birthday present!”
“W-what do you mean…”
“A birthday present should be something that can stay with you forever, something you can look at and remember the day it was gifted, right? So then, what better a gift than something on you, who’ll stay with me forever, than a… tattoo, of sorts?”
Leo inhaled. A tattoo? I’ve had more of those, they don’t even hurt, where’s the need for him to tie-
The agonizing pain cut off even his trail of thought. Without warning, without preparation, Marcus had begun slicing the skin on his exposed right arm with a small carving knife. Leo bit down on his cheek until he could taste blood. He tried to hold back his scream, but with every passing second, the knife went deeper inside his arm. Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god, I can’t, I can’t do this… make it stop!
“Aaugh!”
His nails clawed to the chair’s arms, his feet were outstretched, his mouth was bleeding from the inside and he was downright screaming, hot tears feeling cold against his burning cheeks.
“Oh, don’t be such a baby! You have to do anything for me today, remember?”
“Fuck you!” Leo screeched, immediately feeling the knife plunge deeper into his skin.
“Oops, that was an accident.” Marcus’ voice was stern again. He probably wasn’t too happy with Leo cursing at him.
Leo didn’t know how much time had passed, but he could count the letters. In the beginning, at least. There were small, seconds-long breaks Marcus took between each letter to clean the blade -and then that hellish pain would start again. But Leo couldn’t keep count after a while. After the fifth letter, his voice broke, his throat too sore, too tired to give him any other means to complain. Soon after that, he stopped moving -not that he could move much at all, either way. He stopped struggling. He hung his head and prayed for unconsciousness, but his wish was never granted. Each time his body was ready to give up, a new pain was added, and it jolted him awake again.
“There we go. Look at how much better drawn the letters are now that you’ve calmed down”.
By the time Marcus was done, Leo was but a shell of a human. His cheeks wet with tears, the entirety of his body soaked with sweat, dyed blue hair stuck in strands on his forehead, eyes half closed, shallow breathing. Marcus didn’t bother checking on him. He knew there was still one more step to completing his piece.
He used a long lighter to warm the knife’s blade enough for its heat to seal the wounds, and gently pressed it on each of the letters, warming it anew each time. Leo did open his mouth to scream, but nothing more than a grunt and a soft “please” could come out of it. The only indicator of his consciousness were his tears, flowing non stop on his cheeks, falling on his sleeveless shirt.
Once he was done, Marcus cleaned the blood off Leo’s arm, untied him and picked him up, ever so gently. He carried him to his room, to his bed. He didn’t cuff him, knowing that would put too much strain on the younger man. “Get up, love. Don’t you want to see? It’s quite beautiful”.
Leo’s eyes were covered by his fringe, his mouth half open. “Leave me be, please…”
“Come on, get up”, Marcus demanded, without sugarcoating his tone, and moved to touch him.
Leo managed to react, slapping Marcus’ hand away with the arm he could move. He used the same arm to push himself up, however little he could. He enjoyed the surprised expression on the older’s face, he couldn’t lie to himself about that. “Get out. Leave me alone. Fuck off. How do I need to say it for you to understand?” his voice was hoarse and small, and some vowels weren’t audible, but he certainly got his point across.
Marcus wore a raged expression. He stood up, grabbed Leo by his wrists and cuffed him back on the wall, slamming him against it. “Alright then, love, but remember: you wished for this, you demanded this. You’re in no position to make demands but, I’ll just have to teach you that the hard way. You want alone time? Sure. Get it, then. Just don’t cry to me when I return to you -if, I return to you”.
With those sharp words as his last ones, Marcus turned his back on Leo and closed the door loudly, locking it. The click of the key echoed through the room. It would take many days for Leo to hear that clicking sound again.
Leo woke up dazed. His eyelids were heavy and hard to lift, his body felt as if it weighed a ton, and he was again hanging from his arms. He didn’t quite remember what had happened before he lost consciousness. The only thing haunting his subconscious was Marcus, and the scene in his house’s shed. That alone was enough to trigger cold sweat and difficulty in his breathing.
But the latter wasn’t solely from the threat that Marcus posed, no. it was mostly because his mouth was gagged, a thick cloth tied around his head, pressing his tongue down. The surrounding darkness was explained when he realized the cloth over his eyes. He tried to scream, but a loud, muffled moan was all he could manage, the action scratching his throat. Now, he was getting scared. He shifted and tried to move around while pulling his arms towards his torso, but he was more than aware he couldn’t possibly break the chains holding him up. He didn’t stop trying, though. He pulled and kicked and tried for a scream countless times until the adrenaline faded and it left him with a sore body and bloody wrists. The metal cuffs rubbing into the wounds made him wince every once in a while. He was suddenly tired, and so, so very terrified. He let out a breath through his nose.
Villain is under a curse where they must obey an order or answer a question if their name is used in the instruction. Hero finds out their real name, but they don’t know about the curse.
Consider this: the hero and villain are in the midst of a fight when villain suddenly collapses. At first hero thinks it’s a trick, maybe they even kick them slightly in the side, but they don’t move and their breathing is shallow and hero grows worried. Eventually they kneel beside Villain but they can’t see any injuries so they lift the shirt and what they see leaves them shocked. Villain is only skin and bones, their ribs starkly visible. 1/2
[They haven’t eaten enough in weeks and they had passed out from exhaustion. In my mind Villain wouldn’t be really evil. Maybe more some kind of Robin Hood Thing. Without a second thought Hero picks them up and brings them home with them.]
Considered and absolutely approved!
Hero found Villain lurking in a dark alley, no doubt waiting for an adequate target to rob. Hero had no intention of standing by and allowing that to happen. They dropped down a little way in front of them, trapping them in the street.
“Hands up,” Hero declared. “You picked the wrong alleyway tonight.”
“Just let me be,” Villain growled, they rushed to put their mask on. A solid mask that made seeing even their expression impossible. “I’m not in the mood to fight and I’m not doing anything wrong.”
“Yet. You’re not the worst this city has seen by a long shot, and some might even defend your actions. That doesn’t change the fact you’re a criminal and I’m not allowed to have favourites.” Hero pointed out.
“I’m your favourite?” Villain smirked, but Hero could hear a strain in their voice.
“Hands up where I can see them.”
Villain slowly raised their hands. With the dim glow of the streetlights, it was hard to see their face. Hero was almost in range to grab their wrist, twist it behind them and detain them, only at the last moment, Villain swung at them and punched them in the jaw.
Hero stumbled to the side and Villain tried to make a run for it. Their movements were sloppy, and it made it easy for Hero to catch up and re-engage in the fight, out in the open but thankfully with no obvious witnesses. It was an easy fight, Villain’s attacks had no power behind them, but Hero was not pulling any punches. They kicked at Villain’s sides, almost knocking them over.
“What are you playing at?” Hero panted. Villain took to bringing their arms up to their head protectively and leaning forward. Hero decided to finish it. They punched them again, catching the mask with their knuckle. It went flying, but Villain fought to stay on their feet. They took a few steps backwards, catching their breath. Hero frowned but gave them that opportunity. It wasn’t like they were going anywhere tonight.
“Looks like you’re outta shape,” Hero jibed.
Villain groaned and shook their head like they were trying to dispel some dizziness. They looked up at Hero for the briefest of seconds before they collapsed to the ground, their arm landing over their face. Hero stood stunned for a moment. “No way I just knocked you out?”
Villain lay unmoving, Hero waited a few seconds, but Villain didn’t wake up. That meant one of three things, one, if they’d been knocked out then they had major brain damage, two, they were faking it, or three, something else was wrong. Their fight was so sloppy… was that the case?
Hero inched forward carefully, nudging Villain’s arm off their face with their foot, then they nudged them a little harder in the side to see if there was any kind of reaction.
“Nothing…”
Keeping an eye on their hands, Hero inspected Villain’s limp body. Their face looked different, thinner, they realised. So much thinner than usual. Hero pulled up their shirt curiously, and they swore when they saw Villain’s feeble torso, so thin and frail. There was nothing but skin and bone, absolutely nothing. They looked so thin their body must have burned through the fat and the muscle.
“How the hell did you end up in this state?” Hero mumbled. “Why didn’t you tell me?” It was obvious now they were able to see. Villain had been beyond exhausted before this fight. They’d passed out through exerting themselves. There was no reason for them to be in such a bad way… Something was wrong, that had to be the case. Hero had to know what and they couldn’t leave Villain or turn them in when they were so dangerously thin.
Hero looked around to check for pedestrians. There was nothing which given the situation would be better for all of them. Hero had made up their mind. With careful movements, they lifted Villain up, easing them over their shoulder so they had a spare hand. They were so light, and Hero could feel each and every rib pressing into their shoulder. They barely felt their shuddery shallow breaths.
“You’re coming home with me. Hang on, [Villain].”
Like my stuff and want to support what I do? Then maybe consider buying me a Kofi? Ko-fi.com/morallygrey
i want to read about a villain blackmailed or otherwise forced to work for/with the heroes, who abuse them, belittle them, haze them, knowing full well if the villain leaves the operation they’ll get a one-way ticket to a prison that’s more like hell on earth, and that’s why they don’t let up.
a villain pulled in so many directions their head is spinning, and they don’t know what’s right or wrong or even grey anymore. their closest allies who know what’s going on tries to get them out of the situation. ‘it’s wrong,’ they say, ‘they’re using you like a pawn and treating you even worse.’ the villain stays put.
maybe the villain has an ulterior motive, one that goes beyond ‘helping’ the heroes. they have someone else in need that can only be helped through the heroes.
tell me the story of heroes who slowly come to respect the villain, or at least come to understand one another, even if it’s begrudgingly. maybe it’s in a dire moment of need where it’s made clear that the villain is not all that ‘bad’ after all. and maybe, if they end up respecting the villain enough, they’ll stick their necks out for them. they’ll protect them, especially from other heroes who aren’t so keen on villains in their operation.
Sprawled out on the floor of their cell, the hero is still reeling from a swift punch to the gut when the door is kicked open and all hell breaks loose. By the time they catch their breath and gather enough strength to lift their head, all of their captors are down for the count. Brows furrowed in confusion, the hero blinks away their blurry vision… only to be greeted by the sight of the villain standing before them in all of their nefarious glory.
“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” the villain drawls, crouching down to their level. The hero scrambles away, their bound hands shielding their bruised face in an instinctual defensive position.
The villain rolls their eyes. “Oh please, I’m not going to hurt you. You’ve already been roughened up enough for my tastes.”
The hero frowns, incredulous, and flinches when their adversary gets too close. “You’re not?”
“No, and if you don’t believe me, you can wait for someone else to come and find you like this.”
The hero lowers their arms, their tensed shoulders relaxing minutely. “You’re… rescuing me?”
The villain sniffs. “Hardly. If anything, I’m salvaging my reputation. It would ruin my image if my nemesis were bested by such amateurs. Now, don’t struggle.”
Without saying anything further, the villain scoops them up, one arm hooked under their knees and the other curled around their back. The hero gasps in surprise, the room spinning in a dizzy blur. They might have a concussion.
Near boneless in the villain’s hold, the hero looks up at them as they’re carried out of the cell. “You’re gonna let me go?”
The villain hums. “For a price.”
The hero’s eyes narrow, not liking where this is going. “You’re asking for a ransom?”
“Have to pay the bills somehow, sweetheart.” The villain smirks down at them, and the hero bristles.
Glaring fiercely, they squirm in upset, trying to break free from their hold. The villain tightens their grip, jostling them a bit, and the hero winces in pain as the movement agitates their numerous injuries. Still, they continue to glower at their unwanted savior.
The villain huffs. “Oh, don’t look so cross. The goons who kidnapped you were the ones who published the demands. I’m just claiming them as my own.”
In the hero’s opinion, the villain looks entirely too pleased with their scheme. Who would pay the ransom? The city? But the public needs the money! The hero claws at their enemy’s shirt, their fingers numb from their wrists being tied too tight with electrical cord. “You, you can’t.”
“I can. It’s not like anyone can stop me, least of all you. You’re quite helpless right now, if you haven’t realized,” the villain replies smoothly, cool eyes raking over their injured frame.
The hero pouts—unintentionally, of course. They’re just in so much pain, so weak from the countless beatings, and now innocent people are going to suffer for their ineptitude. They sniffle a bit and wipe their nose with their forearm.
The villain meets their gaze with an unreadable expression, and then, with a heavy sigh, concedes, “I can, but I might not. After all, I could be persuaded to release you, for free, as long as you make it clear to your adoring fans that I was the one who caught you. You play the part of the hapless victim so well, I’m sure they’ll believe you.”
The hero brightens a little.
The villain’s lips curl into a slow smile. “Would you like that, darling?”
The hero gives a weak nod, their eyes so heavy.
The villain’s smile turns into a smirk. “Use your words, dear. Say please.”
The hero glares for a second before remembering how utterly exhausted they are. They swallow their pride, and, in a low voice, whisper, “Please.”
“Well, since you asked so nicely,” the villain chuckles, and the hero groans, eyes falling shut as they relax into the villain’s hold, forehead resting on their enemy’s shoulder. “Now, let’s get you to a hospital.”
