Nothing but Void @throwawaywhumper - Tumblr Blog

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For easy blog navigation, a list of tags that I use, links to post series, and how to join any taglist are all listed below! anything asid

#void catalogue

If you receive this, you make somebody happy! Go on anon and send this to ten of your followers who make you happy or somebody you think needs cheering up. If you get one back, even better! 💜💜💜

🥰 thank you very much anon!

#answering the void #very much made me smile 😊

whumpshaped-deactivated20250109

Sadistic choice prompts baybeyyy!

Choice between humiliation or physical pain, with sweet as sugar!

sweet as sugar masterlist

tw pet whump, lady whumper, shocks, humiliation, training

"I want you to do it. As a pet, you don't need more reasons." Saccharine sat in her comfortable-looking plush armchair, dark eyes fixed on Myles and intently watching his reactions. Myles was staring back up at her, glaring almost, still a little twitchy from the shock he'd already been administered.

"I want more reasons. I want to know what this is supposed to accomplish," he said quietly, but firmly. He wasn't backing down.

Saccharine shocked him again.

"Ask properly and I'll answer you. Even though you don't need an answer, because it makes no difference."

Myles grit his teeth. "Can you please tell me what it is that you're hoping to accomplish, miss?"

"Have you ever heard of breaking pets in?"

He almost physically recoiled at the words. Ah. So it served no purpose other than to make him as humiliated and uncomfortable as possible. "Yes, miss."

"That's what we're doing. That's the first stage of training. It could last a week, or it could last months. That part is dependent on your cooperation."

He wasn't going to lick her boots clean. He was not doing that, and this was a shitty excuse, and his stupid dog tag jingled with every move he was making, and he was sick of it all.

"You'll have to shock me dead, miss."

Saccharine smiled, sweet and entirely too confident for his liking. "Oh, my precious Biscuit. They all say that."

~

taglist: @whumpsday @lonesome--hunter @hidden-dreamland @throwawaywhumper @kim-poce

#👀😌👌

whumpshaped-deactivated20250109

Drabble #5

inspo is from friend @whump-queen masterlist

patreon link if u dont wanna wait for them to come out one by one

trigger warnings: humiliation, pet whump, beating, failed escape, lady whumper

Andrina covered its eyes when Pacey made a break for it once again. This had been a constant issue with him, he would try to run away every time Ora turned her back. But these parties weren't for the faint of heart, and they weren’t for rebellious pets. All the guests were esteemed owners, rich snobs who held two or three leashes in their hands at all times. Any pet that ran would immediately be seized by several others, pets and owners alike, since catching runaways was a surefire way to get into the good graces of your owner.

It could hear people yelling. Ora was shouting at the others to grab Pacey, Pacey was screaming to be let go, and the other guests were laughing and taunting him. It peeked out from behind its fingers, just in time to see someone slam Pacey against the wall. Someone else grabbed him, throwing him to the floor and stepping on his back, while yet another owner crouched down, grabbing his hair and keeping his head in place.

“Running, huh? Not very smart of you,” they sneered.

“Fuck you!”

The stranger smashed Pacey’s head against the tiles, and Andrina squeezed its eyes shut again, whimpering in fear. Ora flicked its temple, prompting it to look up. “Don’t cover your eyes. This is what happens to your friend if he tries to run. I want you to remember it, since he seems entirely unable to.”

“Yes, ma’am.” It forced itself to watch the horrible, barbaric ritual of people beating Pacey until he was so out of it that he couldn’t resist anymore. The worst thing was that they kept laughing about it, like it was funny, like it wasn’t absolutely sickening. Andrina thought it might throw up.

People tied Pacey’s wrists and ankles together, then hauled him to his feet and started shoving him back towards Ora and it. The poor thing’s face was all swollen, he barely seemed to be able to breathe.

“Thank you, my lady,” Ora chirped, smiling at the woman who handed her the leash.

“Of course. I hope he runs again next time. How many times has he tried this already? Four? Five?” The woman grinned, patting her belt where her pets’ leashes were attached to it. “Mine got tired of it after one go. I never really got to have fun with it.”

Andrina pulled Pacey close, trying to gingerly wipe away the blood and the tears. It was crying too, sniffling quietly as the two owners chatted. “You can’t keep running, Pacey,” it pleaded softly, voice thick with tears. “Please. They’ll keep hurting you.”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, and Andrina shook its head.

“Don’t. Don’t be. Not to me. You should- you should treat yourself kinder, you know that? You shouldn’t run because of yourself, to save yourself the trouble.” It cupped his ruined face in its hands, smiling sadly through the tears. “Do it for yourself, Pacey. That’s all you got. Yourself. You gotta watch out for you, because no one else will.”

Pacey nuzzled into its palm, closing his eyes. “You’re looking out for me, Ri. Better than I ever could.”

~

@ashh-ed @whumpsday @whump-queen @rainbows-and-whumperflies

cokok

쳐맞는스카웃..

#oozingvoid

whumpshaped-deactivated20250109

Drabble #1

inspo

this is one of (as of now) seven drabbles of these lil placeholder ocs so i dont have to write it all using Whumpee and Caretaker as names lol all of those seven drabbles are up on my patreon but i'll space it out more on here

trigger warnings: talk of punishment (lashing), dehumanisation, power dynamics

Len hadn’t been doing anything. He hadn't been in the middle of chores, nor any of the recreational activities that he’d been so graciously allowed. He had been walking from one room to the other, namely his bedroom to the kitchen, when he’d heard the click.

He’d grown to flinch and tense up at the sound of the tally counter, knowing his punishments were adding up, and when the weekend finally came, it’d all rain down on him at once. One click equaled two lashes, and Kalysta never failed to mention how merciful an exchange rate that was. They could’ve done three, four, five lashes even for a single click. Len thought they could’ve done one lash for one click - hell, this was a crazy concept, but maybe no lashes at all?

He froze in the middle of the hall, mid-movement, waiting for another click. There were none. He slowly, cautiously turned his head to find the source of the sound, conscious of every little movement he was making, so he could cease if he heard the tally counter go off again. Once again, no clicks.

Kalysta was standing in the doorway, looking at him expectantly. He stared back, confused. Neither of them moved, until finally, Kalysta sighed and made the little machine click again. Len’s eyes widened in panic. He was doing something, and he had no idea what, but if he didn’t stop immediately, the clicks would just keep on coming.

He frantically looked over his clothes, looking for dirt or a tear, he checked that he was wearing the appropriate indoor slippers, the floor wasn’t wet, - of course it wasn’t, it wasn’t like Kalysta ever did their own chores, - there was nothing. Another click came from behind his back, and he let out a choked sob, turning back to Kalysta and dropping to his knees.

“I don’t know what it is. I don’t know. Please, please help me correct it. I’m trying to be good.” His voice was shaky at best, wavering with the knowledge that his monologue might just cause another click. Kalysta sighed again, lowering the device.

“Why, I can’t just spoon-feed you everything. But I am willing to stop at three clicks. You can think about it later, while you’re doing the laundry.” They motioned for him to get up, pointing towards the bathroom with the laundry basket. “Run along now.”

~

@ashh-ed @whumpsday @whump-queen

#one of my favorite of the new drabbles being posted #love love love the idea

iknowitwontwork

REBLOG IF IT'S OKAY FOR ME TO BOTHER YOU IF YOU'RE MY MUTUAL

whumpshaped-deactivated20250109

inspo

tw implied torture, interrogation, restrained, spy whump, knives

"I'm not- I'm not a spy! I don't understand anything that's going on! Please! You have the wrong person, I don't-"

"Silence."

Whumpee cried out in frustration. Tears were streaming down their face, their cheeks were all red, they looked like a mess altogether. They couldn't believe anyone would mistake them for a spy, a professional. They worked as an accountant.

Whumper looked down at them with a strict, emotionless face, determined to make them crack. But they had already cracked. They had cracked the very moment they woke up in the interrogation room, they gave out all that they could, name, address, job- it wasn't enough for them.

"I've heard the cover story, scum. Now tell me the truth: who are you, who do you work for, and what is your purpose here?"

"I'm begging you... I'm not a spy, I'm a fucking idiot, I could never be a spy-"

Whumper slapped them across the face, making them cry harder. They were such a fucking wimp.

-

From the moment Whumper had laid eyes on Whumpee, they knew they weren't the spy. That notion seemed to be very much supported by the way they woke up tied to that chair, disoriented, confused and terrified.

The questioning had barely been going on for ten minutes, and Whumpee was already a disheveled, pathetic mess. Whumper adored every single whimper that left their mouth, the way they begged, and the sound of that slap echoing off the walls was just delightful.

"I see you're not going to talk that easily." Whumper pulled Whumpee's tie loose and stuffed it into their mouth, gagging them and giving them something to bite down on in one go. "That was expected, of course. But one can hope."

Whumpee's eyes widened impossibly at the sight of the knife, and they began thrashing wildly in their restraints, muffled screams getting stuck behind the makeshift gag. Their desperation was just beautiful.

"Let's get started, then."

~

@ashh-ed @whumpsday @whump-queen

amonthofwhump

We are excited to present AMonthOfWhump's Winter Whumperland 2022! Transcripted prompts, event tags, and general info below the cut:

whumpshaped-deactivated20250109

Chapter 5: Found Family

Under the Bell Jar Masterlist

i just forgot to post the last 2 chapters on here apparently lmao anyway they come out in early access on my patreon

trigger warnings: abandonment, isolation, self-deprecation, vastly negative thoughts, crying, begging

There was Cauldron.

There was Scribbs.

There was Witchy.

There was Plant O’Greener and Plant O’Greener Jr.

And there was Fairy, all alone under the bell jar, giving silly names to all the objects around it. It went through the names every day, making sure to greet everyone one by one. It was necessary to pass time and to make sure it didn’t forget any of them.

hidden-dreamland

Content & warnings: Buried alive, mentions of maggots, implied character death, undead whumpee, fourth wall breaking

DEAD MEN TELL NO TALES

Chapter 1 - Meet the corpse.

This chapter can also be called “the one where you meet the author and learn a bit about his deceit” but that doesn’t make for a snappy title now, does it? I don’t think so.

Oh well. Snappy titles aside, I should begin now.

I'll start off with an apology. Now you, reader, may be asking yourself just why in the world is that needed? Well. For my deceit.

Reader, I apologize for lying.

Oh wait. You don’t know what im lying about, do you?

You don’t. I haven’t told you. I haven’t told anyone. Not yet at least.

I mean I don’t have many people to tell this to right now…

I'll stop rambling.

Well dear reader, I guess it’s time I come clean. This story’s title is nothing more than a bold-faced lie. One that I did believe in life, sure, but a lie nonetheless. You see dear Reader, I'm dead. BUT WAIT, HOLD YOUR HORSES AND THE QUESTIONING AND THE COMMENTS CALLING ME CRAZY. I see those fingers of yours running to the reblog button to bombard me with curious intent and indignant questions and snarky comments and innocent thoughts of “oh what a fun writing style!”- save it. I’m not kidding. This isn’t a gimmick, Reader. I, the author, am very much dead. In fact, I'm six feet under as I write this.

Maybe less than six feet, given the bit of signal I managed to get...

Ah well.

By the time you read this, I may or may not be… attempting to dig myself out of here. It’s difficult. But I can try. I will try

I have to try.

I'm going fucking insane down here.

That is also why I'm writing. Just a little bit of creative work to keep the demons at bay.

Heaven knows I need it.

Ever been stuck in a coffin, reader? Or rather, ever been stuck in your own coffin?

I hope you haven't. I really hope you haven't.

As far as I'm aware, I don't exactly need to breathe, but that doesn't make the stuffy air around me any less unpleasant. You see, reader, I'm a corpse. I reek of fucking rot.

One could expect the scent of formaldehyde, of preserving agents, but it seems I've been buried in natura. Tacky, in my opinion. Way too last century. I'd much rather have the chemical smell than this damp disgusting stench of decomposing flesh.

Sigh. Did I even have a proper burial?

Maybe not.

I don't remember how I died, but i don't think it was an easy death given the bruising and the cuts and the sheer amount of wrong I feel inside me.

There's even something moving.

Wait

Why is there something moving

Wait whfgnlsz##√¢

dAtatta√^5@

WHAT THE FUCJ

Ok. Alright. Yeah. Dear reader, while I don't have to, I definitely can breatge

I can fucking hyperventilwee

And I have the lungs and the throat to scream it seems

i guess im in a much better state than previously thought. oh by the gods

TGEYRE STILL HERE

Fuck, ok, yeah, reader, I'll have to leave for now

my 'get the fuck out of thid goddamn box' plan has been moved from merely Important to ABSOLUTELY URGENT

I'll explain later, once I'm not oOCCUPIED FIGHTINF OFF THESE GODDSMN MAGGOTS

#id love to join the tag list op!

hidden-dreamland

IT IS GORE DAY FOLKS.

so I just had to draw something

I hand you: art. a sweet doodle of a whumpee having a terrible time.

TW: HEAVY GORE, amputation, blood (a lot of it), disembowelment, strangulation (specifically strangled with their own guts), eye gore (missing eye, gouged out), bruises, cuts.

art below the cut

hope you enjoy

#oozingvoid

i-can-even-burn-salad

Not a writblr, not a whumblr, but a secret third thing (a shy little gremlin who pesters the same 5 mutuals over and over)

#my method of pestering is specifically infesting their notes with spam likes and reblogs

deactivated-blog

Whumpee left tied in a terrible stress position, pain needling through every joint and limb except the ones that are too numb to feel anymore, an hourglass positioned next to their head or within easy eyesight.

Whumper promised to come back and let them down once all the sand ran down to the bottom of the hourglass. Whumpee watched the last grains fall with so much hope and eagerness filling their chest -

But that was ages ago, now, and except for whumpee’s trembling labored breathing, it’s still silent in the cell…

shywhumpauthor

You know what I’m thinking about?

I’m thinking about a situation, both Whumpee and caretaker are captives. Equal amounts of pain, equal humiliation and torture. Maybe they knew each other before this, maybe not. Whatever it is, they’re both suffering. Maybe caretaker has it a little worse.

But for whatever reason, they’re stuck being Whumpee’s caretaker. Maybe Whumpee is just weaker, smaller, younger, has a lower pain tolerance. But caretaker is always stuck being the strong one. They don’t get to sleep at night because they’re stuck holding and soothing Whumpee while they toss and turn through the nightmares. They have to ignore their own wounds in favor for caring for Whumpee’s. They give what little food and water they are gifted from Whumper to Whumpee because no matter how hungry they are, Whumpee is hungrier. There’s only one blanket in the small, chilled room, but of course Whumpee is always colder. No matter how exhausted or sick or tired they are, Whumpee is worse.

At one point or another, Whumper may catch on. If they notice, what do they do? Do they take Caretaker aside, becoming a caretaker themself to them because shit, if this keeps going on, Caretaker is going to kill themself trying to help Whumpee? Or do start hurting caretaker worse, watching with glee as Whumpee continues their usual dynamic?Maybe they stop hurting Whumpee entirely. They stop the torture and the humiliation, they give them bigger rations, more water. Maybe they bring another blanket to the cell, just to watch humorously as Whumpee takes it for themself. Yet still, as Whumpee begins to grow stronger, their wounds heal, etc, they’re still the one who needs to be cared for.

Does Whumpee even know they’re doing it? Caretaker prayed they did. It would be so much easier for them to take what they so desperately needed if Whumpee was consciously depriving them of it. They wouldn’t feel bad that way then, but no. Caretaker was convinced Whumpee had no clue what they were doing, even though they were doing it.

And god, they’re starting to get so tired.

All of this because when Whumper first cracked the whip, even though it was across Caretaker’s bare back, Whumpee was the first to cry and cower.

This could lead to so many fun dynamics after rescue, or still even during captivity, it’s so fun to think about

zineofgid

Our interest check is closed, but our contributor applications are now open! If you like to draw guys bound in ropes or write about struggling in vain against a captor, you should sign up!

⛓⛓⬇️⛓⛓

GID: Guys In Distress. May also fall under the categories of whump, hurt/comfort, male bondage, dubcon/noncon, etc. The GID zine will fea

jerseyclown

(blood pouring out of my eyes) yeah im thriving . like im in the prime of my life right now

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