Wildwayswhump

Starwitch creator | whump writer | 16+ only account

[wildwaywhump]

Occie, the first starwitch I ever made

Art by ghost of Sharon

[wildwaywhump]

Starwitch: Basic Species History, sparknotes edition

Starwitches are a race that used to be wild, they had towering cities and traditions of holidays that coincided with the constellations in the sky.

They are naturally the ability to heal, create illusions and speak telepathically. They were entirely peaceful and had no need for weapons or anything of that sort. When different tribes visited each other they would throw huge feasts to celebrate their friends.

Well, as humans usually do, they ruined everything when they found them and decided they wanted to keep these creatures as pets. So they captured as many as they could then burned the forest to the ground, killing the ones they couldn’t catch and destroying their cities. For a few thousand years only captive starwitches have existed, carefully bred by humans to be loyal and obedient. Wild and feral Starwitches are hunted for their bones or because they're seen as pests. There have also been 2 subspecies that humans split off from the main Starwitch lineages; the Darkwitches and the Labwitches. I'll cover those in a later post.

[wildwaywhump]

Wild Little One

Wolf paced the kennel, following the path worn into the packed dirt by 23 years of his small feet shuffling or stomping over it. Dust didn’t stir up anymore like it had for the first few years he’d been there. He’d been younger then, and would lunge at the bars of the pen, baring his teeth and snarling at anything that moved. He was older now, slower, didn’t have the energy for such pointless displays of aggression. He didn’t have to in order to scare people now. The scars that littered his little 3 foot tall, 45-pound body did that for him.  No Darkwitch with that many scars should survive a fight.  Not many could.  But Wolf did.  And that made him *terrifying*

[victimeyez]

DRUGGED WHUMP

Drugged whump is my fucking jam like

-Drugs that make the whumpee talkative and honest

-Promised pain meds that are actually aphrodisiacs

-Drugs that make the whumpee sleepy and vulnerable, becoming drowsy and affectionate even if they usually were terrified or disgusted by their whumper

-Drugs that make the whumpee angry, aggressive, and energetic - easily manipulated in this state to even attack others at the behest of their whumper

-Finally getting pain meds after living in constant pain for ages and being brought to tears by the relief

-Super strong pain meds that make the whumpee slow and stoned, unable to defend themselves verbally or physically

-An allergic reaction to some pain meds or antibiotics - will the whumper risk bringing them to the hospital? Do they have a doctor who will help on the hush? Do they leave their whumpee to suffer through on their own?

- MEDS A WHUMPEE NEEDS TO FUNCTION, do they have to struggle to live without them? Does the whumper give them meds but on the condition of good behavior? Does the whumpee refuse the meds? Does the whumper give them their meds but secretly replace them with something else?

-Drugs that make a whumpee hallucinate - what do they see? Are they scared? Are they emboldened?

-Sleeping meds, keeping the whumpee too drowsy and weak to try to escape

- Stimulants, forcing a whumpee to stay up for days, sleep deprivation, forced labor

- Drugs slipped into food and drink, not knowing what’s happening when they start to feel funny

-Whumpee being forced to eat or drink something they KNOW is drugged but having no choice

-Injecting a whumpee with a syringe, the sharp pain of the injection and then the terrifying realization that they’ve been drugged, begging the whumper to tell them what they just gave them

-The whumpee trying to drug their whumper, maybe hoping to make an escape attempt, but being caught and forced to consume whatever it was themselves

- Starving a whumpee and then finally offering them some food, they know it is drugged but struggle to resist the temptation of the food, they are just so hungry

- Drugging a whumpee and letting them go, them being so overwhelmed with relief that they can finally escape, only to collapse just a few feet away from freedom

-Making a whumpee dependent on drugs, so they become even more dependent on their whumper, their Whumper threatening to take away the drugs as punishment knowing the horrible withdrawals they would go through from being cut off

- Drugs that paralyze the whumpee while leaving them conscious, the whumper getting to manipulate their body like a doll while they are horrified but unable to struggle

-Drugs that paralyze the whumpee’s legs, so they have to drag themselves anywhere they go

DRUGSSSSSSSS

If you use any of these prompts, please @ me, I’d love to read it!

[insanitywishes-deactivated20231]

@walkingchemicalfire 👀

[wildwaywhump]

Barrett’s Box Boy

Barrett hadn’t meant for this to happen. 

His hands are bruised and bloody.

He hadn’t.

That blood was not his own. He couldn’t have.

It wasn’t him sobbing.

But..

He did.

He had done this. 

And it had felt so good.

Barrett came home pissed. The barista fucked up his coffee order, his boss was being a douchebag, traffic was awful. He tossed his backpack across the living room as he came in, not caring where it landed until he hurt it hit and a yelp in response. He looked up from untying his shoes and his gaze locked on Rover, scrambling off the couch. The box boy had a hand over his eye, nursing a bump from where the backpack hit him. “What did I say about being on the couch?” Barrett snarled, stomping over to Rover. “I’m s sorry sir…” Rover whispered, cowering as Barrett loomed over him. “I wo-.” Barrett’s fist knocked the air out of him as it impacted with Rover’s stomach. Rover doubled over in pain, coughing as Barrett pulled back. 

That felt so damn good. Barrett rolled his shoulders and swung again, his fist connecting with the box boy’s jaw, knocking the scrawny thing to the ground. He leapt on the cowering form and started to pummel it with his fists, his anger fueling him, taking it out on the helpless form crying beneath him.

Soon, but not soon enough, Barrett’s anger was exhausted and he sat up, panting, still straddling the now barely-awake bloody-faced boy. He ran his bloody fingers through his sweaty hair, pushing it back from his face, a wicked grin across his face for a moment before he realized what he’d done. It felt so wrong. Rover was his pet, how could he do this?

But.

If it was so wrong, why did it feel so goddamn good?

[cubeswhump]

Box Boy/Babe Info Guide: Worldbuilding Compilation

This universe (multiverse) can be intimidating at a glance. So many writers, so many stories, so much lore. You might not know where to start. First thing us to remember that it’s a multiverse and you can change things as you please, but you might want to follow some guidelines. I’m compiling worldbuilding posts from various writers to help new BBU writers get started.

Big thanks to @ashintheairlikesnow @haro-whumps @albino-whumpee @moose-teeth @the-host-and-colton @slaintetowhump @sweetwhumpandhellacomf for all their contributions and concepts created by them. A for writing some rad stories.

Warning for kidnapping, abuse (emotional, psychological, physical, sexual), violence, institutionalized slavery, brainwashing, etc.

Keep reading

[ashintheairlikesnow]

The Boy: 435689

CW: Whump involving a minor (character is 16), although minor is not whumped in this piece. Institutionalized slavery setting, pet whump setting. This piece is more angsty comf, though

“435689, Position Two,” The handler said as the door opened, but the boy didn’t move. He kept his jaw set and curled up even more tightly, pressing himself into the corner of the small white room.

“I said, Position-… shit. See, I knew when I saw the other one… You’re definitely too young,” The handler said, and the boy looked up at him, confused by the words. They swam around him, swooped down and up, made sense only after whole seconds had passed. They put stuff in his food, but he had to eat, right? He tried not eating, but they made him, anyway. He’d do anything to not have to be fed through the gag again. 

Or the drip.

The boy shuddered, tears in his eyes, blinking them away as rapidly as he could. If he cried, the handler would laugh at him, they laughed at all the trainees who cried. 

This handler, though, just… stood there. 

“Jesus, how old are you?”

The boy’s eyebrows furrowed, and he tried to curl himself up even more tightly, arms around his knees, shivering in the constant frigid chill. “All…” His voice cracked and he flinched, ready for the crack of the baton - but nothing happened, and finally he forced his eyes back open to see the handler hadn’t moved. “All p-pets are of legal and c-c-consenting age, sir-”

“Yeah, but you sure as fuck aren’t.” The handler sighed, raking a hand back through his hair, his other hand dropping off the black baton that hung on his belt, little a little ridiculously oversized compared to the young handler’s skinny hips. As soon as he wasn’t touching it, the boy relaxed, just a little, but he kept his eyes locked. “What are you, sixteen?”

The boy hesitated, waiting for the trap he knew must be in the question. It was a trick - he had to say he was eighteen, they worked on this, it hurt and hurt and hurt until he agreed to say he was eighteen - but the handler’s expression didn’t change.

There was no satisfaction there. Instead, there was something the boy hadn’t seen in anyone’s face since he got here… concern.

“I w-was… I’m eighteen,” He said, not quite whimpering the words, his eyes still on the black baton that hung off the handler’s belt. “All pets are of legal and consenting ah, age, I’m sorry don’t be mad at me-” 

The handler stepped into the room, and the boy cringed, putting his arms up over his head to defend himself. 

“Hey-… hey, it’s okay, let’s just settle, yeah?” The handler kept moving, step by careful step, slow like a documentary the boy had once watched in class, where they moved up towards a scared wolf and-

Pain - piercing like a knife through his skull - and the boy cried out, curling up tighter. “Please,” He whispered. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“Settle,” The handler said again, more softly. “Settle. It’s okay, 435689, you’re okay. You’re going to be okay. I just want to get a better look at you, yeah? Can you look up at me now?”

Keep reading

[sailor-junior]

50 Things Your Whumpee Could Be Doing

1. Combing dried blood out their hair.

2. Trying to cut their collar off with a knife or scissors.

3. Searching for painkillers.

4. Washing their wounds.

5. Trying to undo the knot on their wrists behind their back.

6. Cleaning Whumpers shoes.

7. Laying on the floor, fantasizing about home.

8. Sticking their fingers down their throat to throw the poison up.

9. Nervously tapping the bell on their collar.

10. Mixing sleepaids into Whumpers drink.

11. Attempting to escape the now soundly-sleeping Whumper.

12. Disinfecting an animal bite.

13. Googling their symptoms.

14. Be desperatly searching for Caretaker.

15. Snapping open a lock on their chains.

16. Putting make-up on their bruises.

17. Bonding with Caretakers pet.

18. Trying to snap the bell off their collar.

19. Only pretend to swallow their pills by hiding them under their tounge.

20. Biting the buckle on their straightjacket open.

21. Taking a risk by eating unidentified berries.

22. Digging a grave.

23. Sitting in Whumpers lap.

24. Feeling the tooth they just broke with their tounge.

25. Slamming their head against the bars of their cell to knock themselves unconcious.

26. Washing saltstains away from their cheeks or glasses so Caretaker won't see that they've been crying.

27. Fastening a branch to a broken limb.

28. Using sticks as makeshift crutches.

29. Sticking their hand into cold water to quell the swelling of a bug/snakebite.

30. Sucking the venom out said bite.

31. Exploring Whumpers house at night.

32. Hoping that the friend that Whumper brought home is more reasonable, pleading with them to please help them escape.

33. Pounding their fists against the wall and screaming to get the attention of anyone who might hear.

34. Attempying to rip the soundproofing out the walls of their cell.

35. Making friends with one of the bugs in the cellar they're being kept in.

36. Brushing their teeth to get the taste of blood out their mouth.

37. Getting caught in the barbed wire when trying to climb Whumpers fence.

38. Breaking their comfort item in rage.

39. Fainting at the sight of a needle.

40. Changing into a hospital gown.

41. Trying to piss Whumper off by being more obedient/affectionate with one of Whumpers friends.

42. Running from a wild animal.

43. Drinking dirty water.

44. Eating out of Whumpers hand.

45. Entertaining themselves in their cell by practicing shadowpuppets.

46. Trying to figure out which *damn key* goes to their restraints.

47. Pleading with a voice so sore that it's barely audiable.

48. Picking out a turtleneck to wear that day so that nobody sees the fresh marks on their throat.

49. Giving Whumper a kiss.

50. Crying.

[justtorturethings]

"Master, please, I didn't mean to-"

Whumpee's head lowered in shame as Whumper sighed. "My dear pet, what have I always told you?"

"A disobedient pet... i-is an unwanted pet."

Whumper forced their pet's head up.

"And what does that make you, hm?"

Whumpee spoke through sobs.

"Unwanted, master."

[cupcakes-and-pain]

When pet whumpees try to please their new master or offer to be hurt

Their caretakers:

[saccharine-suffering]

Y'know what I want to see more of? Bootlicking.

Like, literal down on knees, kissing the whumper's feet.

Maybe the whumpee was forced to do it in order to earn food or water. Maybe the whumper commanded it and the whumpee was too afraid to refuse. Maybe the whumper will ease up on punishment if the whumpee can prove that they're already submissive and obedient and not worth crushing any further. Who knows, whatever the reason, it was always humiliating.

And then when the whumper moves the whumpee's chin with their foot. Or when they kick them??? Just imagine, a puppy-eyed whumpee tearfully looking up at their whumper, red faced and humiliated, only to be kicked in the jaw.

And since I think about this every time without fail, what if it's a conditioned response? And then when they're rescued, the caretaker unknowingly triggers the response and is just frozen when the whumpee drops to their knees and crawls over to their feet.

Overall, just, gimme 🤲

[justtorturethings]

“Where do animals sleep?”

“In cages,” Whumpee answered miserably.

“And what are you?”

“An animal.”

“That’s right.” Whumper smiled approvingly, gesturing to the inside of a wire dog crate. 

“Now in.”

[dankmemeuniversity]

[athlethick]