#lady whumper

[lumpsbumpsandwhumps]

Women In Whump Pt. 1

#whump #my art #whump community #whump scenario #whumpee #whumper #whump ideas #whump art #whump prompt #whumpblr #defiant whumpee #whumper turned whumpee #caretaker #tw blood #lady whump #lady whumper #lady whumpee #female whumper #female whumpee #female whump #burns #stabbing #[thanos voice] fine...i'll do it myself... #sorry i know the whump community hates female characters or whatever but you're getting 3 parts of pretty ladies

[firapolemos05]

Manners

CW: suggestive, creepy whumper, lady whumper, pet whump, water deprivation, muzzles, defiant whumpee, forced to beg

The glass of water on the table had caught her Pet's attention.

Scarlet noticed him stealing glances over the book in her hands, eyes darting between the glass and the floor. Longing. Oh it was simply adorable how he tried to hide it.

'How long should I make him wait?'

She raised the glass and took a nice long sip, the cool liquid refreshing. Her Pet's gaze held longer that time, a glint of desperation sneaking into his eyes. Chapped lips pulled into a thin line under his muzzle, and Scarlet knew he was trying so hard not to waste any remaining moisture in his mouth on them.

It had been days since she last allowed him to drink.

A consequence of disobedience. 

Fluids and nutrients delivered intravenously would prevent any actual dehydration, but that did nothing to treat cottonmouth. The parched barren of his throat must be unbearable by now.

"You must be thirsty, aren't you, Pet?" she inquired. His eyes shot back to the floor, embarrassment marking his face at being caught. Scarlet chuckled. That pride of his made it too easy. "Come now, you remember your tenth rule, right?"

Mentioning the rules always made him flinch. Oh he remembered alright. She had made sure of that. Made him recite each one over and over, interrupting each mistake or refusal with a strike of her switch across his back.

He remembered them very well.

'Rule 10: Pets do not request, they beg.'

While knowing his rules was one thing, following them was another. And her Pet had a particularly difficult time with this one. A defiant little one, he was, but after several weeks of strict training, Scarlet had cracked his armor. 

Some beautiful cracks. 

The fear that flashed in his gaze whenever she entered his cell. The empty, resigned silence whenever she ran her fingers through his hair, or traced the masterpiece of scars over his skin. He was even getting better at remembering to call her 'master.'

Now Scarlet watched another crack form. Watched the show of emotions he failed to suppress: anger, humiliation, anxiety, craving. She took another sip from the glass and watched the unspoken threat fuel those last two. And soon she spots the exact moment of breakage. 

He turned towards her and bowed his head. His voice weak and rasping.

"May I please have some water. . . Master?"

Oh how delightful. 

It usually takes him far longer to beg. He must really be desperate. He didn't even growl this time. 

The satisfaction was like a drug.

"Good boy," she smiled and he bristled at the praise. He despised it now but it'll be a matter of time before he's craving that too. She pointed to the floor in front of her chair. "Come here."

Her Pet hated to crawl, but he knew better than to attempt standing without permission. Oh well. He can be grateful his arms are bound in front of him today.

He avoided eye contact as he approached, a glare glued to the tile flooring. But soon, he was where he looked best, kneeling at her feet.

His hands rose to reach for the glass, a gesture Scarlet swiftly corrected by catching the chain connecting them under her boot and pinning them down.

"Pets do not use their hands," she scolded and he grimaced. She held the glass out, hovering it just above his head. "Tilt your head back and open your mouth."

His face flushed dark at that, the anger and shame making a reappearance. He had earned his reward, but he still had to accept it however she wished him to. Even if it was a display of power such as this. It was too late for him to refuse, but he almost looked as if he was going to try. Fortunately for him, the desire to quench his thirst won out. He obeyed, his jaws parting as far as the muzzle would allow them.

Scarlet poured slowly, wanting to savor his reactions. She could be a gracious master now and then. She was careful to let the water fall steadily in between the muzzle's wires.

To his credit, her Pet tried to remain stoic, composed. But as soon as liquid passed his lips, the animal need took over. Like an eager dog he gulped it down, leaning closer, squeezed his eyes shut as he craned his neck to catch every last drop. The effort failed him, as his movements made the drops catch on the muzzle, splashing over the metal. Well, that was his own fault. Glossy streaks ran down his chin and neck.

Scarlet licked her lips.

She should do this again, just with her favorite red wine. Painting her Pet's neck with dripping red would be quite enticing. And it would be an order then, rather than a reward. He won't be able to refuse, and won't be able to stop her from pulling him into her lap to lick the wine from his neck.

Oh how he will hate it. And she will feast on his helpless fear.

The last drop of water fell from the glass.

It's barely enough to satiate. Her Pet gasped for air, greedily seeking more where there is none. It will be a short respite, and he closed his mouth to prevent his breaths from stealing that back. Then he noticed the amused expression of approval on his master’s face and turned away, abashed at his behavior.

Scarlet curled a finger through his muzzle, pulling him back to face her. "Now what do you say?"

Another rule he had difficulty with.

Contempt twisted his features, and before he could think better of it, the words already left his mouth. "Go to hell."

Scarlet grinned. She can already taste his regret. 

Time for another lesson. 

#whump writing #whumpblr #whump community #whump stuff #pet whump #lady whumper #Scarlet Matar #my ocs #my writing #my work #original #had some creative juices today so decide to gift myself a birthday present

[whumpshaped]

yk what I’m gonna share because I enjoy? Big guy whumpee getting too weak in captivity to fight back. He fights so hard in the beginning, but sleep deprivation, hypothermia, and starvation have started to take their tolls.

he’s shaking, the chains digging into his skin. he had promised himself he wouldn’t break, but if someone offered him warm food of any kind right then, he would have done any humiliating task to earn it. He’s fighting sleep, partially because he realizes that if he does sleep he might not wake, and that whenever he does sleep he gets shocked.

Just the image of a physically weaker whumper strolling in the cell of her near broken captive and fucking smirking.

content: military setting, captivity, torture, conditioning, starvation, dehydration, sleep deprivation, lady whumper, dehumanisation

It was delightful. That annoying, rowdy man, finally too weak to cuss at her... Curled up like a kid, trembling... It was intoxicating. Whumper could barely hold in a giggle.

"Wakey, wakey," she said in a sing-song voice, banging on the bars of the cell once with the sturdier end of her riding crop. "Feeling tired?"

Whumpee flinched violently, then curled up even tighter. It looked like he was about to cry. Oh, the poor, stupid baby. What a pathetic sight.

"If you don't answer me while I'm still outside, I might be tempted to go inside." Bang. "So get your shit together and sit up, you fucking pitiful excuse for an officer. Should I bark orders at you? Is that what you're used to? Up, lieutenant, up, up."

Whumpee put his two shaky hands against the concrete and pushed himself into a sitting position, leaning his back against the wall. Even that seemed like it put a strain on his body — good. Only good boys deserve adequate food and water, and poor lieutenant hadn't been a very good boy.

Not until now.

"Good job," she cooed, then immediately hit the bars again. "But fucking slow! Do you expect me to pat you on the back for that? At this rate, you're never gonna earn a single minute of sleep again! I work with dogs, lieutenant, I expect obedience and quick responses to my commands!"

"Fuck yourself," he ground out.

"Tempting, but I think I'd rather fuck you. Metaphorically speaking." She banged on the bars one more time. "I'm giving you one chance to earn some soup today, because you haven't been acting out lately. Of course, that's only because you're thoroughly exhausted — if you give me a reason to think this is the only state in which you can be kept compliant, I will keep you in this state for as long as your fucked up little body allows. Do we understand each other?"

Whumpee nodded, and Whumper hit the bars even harder than before.

"Do we fucking understand each other, lieutenant?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

~

this is one of my last drabbles here, please feel free to follow me on my new blog @sowhumpshaped

#asks #whump #whump drabble #military setting #captivity #torture #conditioning #starvation #dehydration #sleep deprivation #lady whumper #dehumanisation

[whumpinthepot]

@febuwhump 2024, Day 14. Blood-Stained Tiles

Happy Valentines Day folks 🤗❤️🩷❤️

Mature art tag list: @frogkingdom @coppercoyoti (let me know if you’d like to be added)

#febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday14 #blood-stained tiles #blood tw #gore art tw #gore art #stabby abby #breezys ocs #breezys art #ratts race #abby #whump art #lady whumper #female whumper

[honeycollectswhump]

for the bingo card: human furniture?

-🪷

thank you for sending this ask!! and i hope you don't mind my late reply :)) it was so fun to write <3

the bingo card was made by @gentlelittlehorrors (i hope you enjoy what i did with your prompt)

[masterlist]

CW: dehumanisation, pet whump, burns

“Up!”

It’s the first thing Ashtray hears, the first thing he understands, while laying down under the table, letting the noise of conversations pleasantly wash over him. 

Up means he is needed, Up means he is going to be used and Ashtray is eager to be used. Recognizing a word makes his nerves tingle with happiness. Ashtray rarely gets talked to –of course–, and it's even rarer that he understands.

He gets on his hands and knees, crawling closer to the soft velvet voice of his beloved Mistress. From his point of view, Ashtray can only see her silky smooth dress, a slit revealing her elegantly crossed legs. 

Careful of the leash binding him to the table, he takes his place, kneeling right beside his Mistress. Only like this, he is allowed to look at her, Ashtray has learned. He turns his head towards her, waiting for another cue amidst the pleasant waves of her voice.

Ashtray knows few words, short hints like Up and Down, Good Boy and Punishment, Hands and Back and Tongue, but he is very proud of his collection. It makes him a Good Boy, he thinks, that he has learned to recognise the otherwise strange sounds. Ashtray strives to serve his Mistress, in the way he was made for, and in any way at all. 

“Hand out.” his Mistress says, and Ashtray is thankful he is such an attentive Good Boy to filter out the right words. He tries his best to copy her poise, even though it is so unnatural for a simple thing like him. 

Mistress didn’t say which hand or maybe Ashtray doesn’t know the word yet. He can only guess what the most logical answer would be and sitting at her left side, he has an idea. Everything should always be elegant, so as graceful as possible he lifts his right hand to rest on her thigh, just like she trained him to. 

He can feel the cigarette getting closer, even without seeing it directly, can feel it burning and sizzling against his skin. Despite this, Ashtray doesn’t flinch, just like expected of a Good Boy. His eyes never leave his Mistress’ face, drowning in the pleased smile she gifts him. 

Other owners wouldn’t smile at their Ashtray like that, but his Mistress does. She is gentle, and loving, and so beautiful that Ashtray knows he’d let her hold his hands in a fire just to gain another smile. 

Twisting the cigarette into his skin, his Mistress makes sure it truly is put out. Ashtray marvels at how responsible she is, even as it leaves an angry red crater that will surely leave a mark in the field of raised, almost perfectly round scars that coat his hands. 

After fulfilling his purpose, Ashtray lifts his hand back down again, barely conscious of the way his skin seems to be lit on fire. This is what he was made for anyway. He resumes his position next to his Mistress, both hands in front of his knees, still and Good, bathing in her presence until she will inevitably send him under the table, only to come out when he is needed. Maybe then, she will call him a Good Boy again and Ashtray wants to be a Good Boy so badly. 

If he continues to be a Good Boy, his Mistress will even provide Ashtray with cream so that the fresh wound won’t get infected. Another thing other owners wouldn’t do for their possessions.

Ashtray is so lucky to belong to such a kind Mistress.

#if you see me posting about this guy again. no you dont <3 #ashtray was supposed to be a one-off guy #and now you can pry him out of the cold dead hands of whumpcloud (and me) #he got “our guy”-ed before the drabble was even finished akshsjs #conditioned whumpee's bingo card #ashtray whumpee #human furniture #furniture whump #object whump #object whumpee #whumpee and whumper #conditioned whumpee #pet whump #lady whumper #pet whumpee #burns #cigarette burns #dehumanisation #whump writing #whump drabble #honey's writing #ashtray/skye (oc) #The Ashtray #asks #anon #🪷 anon

[mj-iza-writer]

Whumper arrived home from work a little earlier than normal, so they waited for Whumpee to come to the front door to help take her shoes off.

They tapped their nails against the stair's railing, it was taking Whumpee longer than necessary to come.

Whumper kicked her shoes off in frustration and stormed off to find Whumpee.

Finally Whumper walked into the kitchen and found Whumpee sprawled out on the floor.

"Did you fall asleep while doing chores? You useless...", Whumper nudged Whumpee's head with her foot, "wake up you."

Whumpee made a disturbed snore before weakly looking up.

"Mis-mistress, you're home", Whumpee whispered then realized. They hurried to bow and kiss her feet, "I-I'm sorry miss."

Whumper crouched down and slapped Whumpee's cheek, hard enough to sting.

"Why are you sleeping when you're supposed to be working", Whumper stood back up, "and on the kitchen floor of all places."

Whumpee looked down, "I-I'm sorry miss, the floor w-was cold. It fe-felt good", they rubbed their cheek.

"Cold?", Whumper raised an eyebrow, "it's not hot."

Whumpee fidgeted shyly and kept looking at the floor.

Whumper reached down and grabbed Whumpee's chin. She lifted their face to look at them.

"Are you feeling alright?", Whumper sighed as they looked over Whumpee's appearance, "your skin is pale, and you look flushed. Plus, your eyes are glossy, never a good sign with you."

Whumper waited a minute as they felt Whumpee's warm skin.

Whumpee seemed to tiredly sink into Whumper's hand, ignoring her nails digging into their skin.

"Whumpee are you about to fall asleep like this?", Whumper questioned worriedly.

Whumpee quickly wiped away a tear and looked up, "I'm sorry mistress."

Whumper sighed as all frustration melted away, her momma bear was kicking in.

"Okay come on, get up. Out to the couch with you", Whumper waved their hand to shew them away.

Whumpee quickly got up and rushed to the couch.

When Whumper walked into the living room they looked at the couch but didn't see Whumpee on it.

"Whumpee... oh! What are you doing?", Whumper looked down to see Whumpee on the floor in a crawling position.

"I-I'm ready for my punishment. My behavior has been.... very... ba... hmm", Whumpee started to fall forward, "I'm dizzy."

"Okay, come on, I meant I wanted you to lay on the couch", Whumper reached down and pulled Whumpee up, "you're not in trouble. I want to take your temperature, and have you take this medicine."

"Mistress.... couch... ar-are you sure?", Whumpee tried to wriggle out of Whumper's grip but was too weak.

"Yes, now lay down", Whumper commanded as they gave a gentle push to Whumpee.

Whumpee collapsed onto the couch.

"Mmph", Whumpee grunted when Whumper stuck the thermometer into their mouth. Whumpee looked up awkwardly.

"Don't look at me like that", Whumper crossed their arms and waited for the ding.

"I'm sorry, I'm not use to, um, this ma'am", Whumpee looked down.

"Don't get use to it either, I do have a heart though", Whumper sighed at the temperature, "quite a fever, have you felt like this all day? Why wasn't I made aware?"

"I started feeling bad after lunch, and I got really tired", Whumpee whispered, "I'm sorry."

Whumper sighed, "okay scooch over."

Whumper sat down beside Whumpee and wrapped an arm around them.

Whumpee stiffened as Whumper pulled them close.

"Just relax. You're okay", Whumper layed their hand against Whumpee's head.

Whumpee thought for a second before leaning into the hug and touch.

"Hmmm", Whumpee moaned, as Whumper rested her chin on their forehead to take in the fever.

Whumper held Whumpee's head up as they felt their body going limp. She lowered Whumpee's head until they laid down and rested their head on her lap.

Whumper scratched along Whumpee's head and ear until she heard snores.

"How dare you get sick on me", Whumper sighed at their slave, "make me have to care for you. You're hopeless without me. I hope you are aware of that."

After a few more minutes, Whumper rested their hand on Whumpee's head, "I hate how much I love you", Whumper sighed.

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all. @villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived @sacredwrath @porschethemermaid @monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz @bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13 @notpeppermint @cyborg0109

#whump community #whumpblr #carewhumper #whump stuff #whump writing #whump ideas #whump #whumpee #whumper #whump scenario #caretaking #oc #whump story #soft whump #sick fic whump #sick whumpee #sick whump #lady whumper #mistress whumper

[avvail-whumps]

Royal Bought: Pretty Girls #6

previous · masterlist

content warnings: vampire whump, non-human whumper, defiant whumpee, captivity, human auctions, non-sexual nudity, lady whumper, multiple lady whumpees, conditioned whumpees

Luke tried not to focus on the hand digging into his forearm, being pulled along the corridors to their new destination. He wondered if this was going to be a recurring thing; dragged off somewhere new to suffer another long winded conversation about how frivolous it was to escape. 

How ridiculous. 

Luke wished none of this was happening. He let his mind wander, falling into the crashing waves of his thoughts, barely even recognising where they were going. He was sure they’d climbed up another floor, and wondered just how hugely vast this place was. 

Eventually, they stopped on what seemed to be a much more quiet floor. Silas didn’t speak a word to him the entire way up, and for that, Luke was actually quite grateful. It was filled with quite a few doors, spaced out amongst each other, but Silas eventually stopped in front of one, and he pushed the door open. 

“Ileana,” he called out, making sure to give Luke a hard tug so he came inside. “This one’s for you.” 

Luke’s eyes adjusted to the new room for a brief moment. It was much bigger than Silvan’s, it seemed, filled with a desk and more personal decorations like paintings and mirrors on the walls. On the couch, Luke found himself staring at a beautiful vampire, having turned her head aside to glance at Silas he wandered inside. 

She seemed tall, even when seated, one slender leg thrown over the other, and long, silky silver hair that trailed down her back. Her eyes were narrowed and pointed, giving Luke a very obvious once over when Silas gave him a firm shake. Beside her, there seemed to be a blonde girl - human. She had been giggling softly when the door opened, almost leaning into Ileana’s side, but at the sight of them, she quickly shot to her feet and scurried off. 

Ileana removed her arm from the back of the couch, twisting her body straight so she was facing them, and a thin smile spreading across those pink lips. Luke watched the blonde join what seemed to be two other girls at the wall, standing obediently. She sneaked a glance at Luke, her expression slightly embarrassed. 

He almost felt like he’d walked in on something he shouldn’t have. 

“Silas,” Ileana purred, her voice like dripping honey. It was enough for Luke’s gaze to snap over to her again. She even seemed to sit with an air of grace and poise, stiffening when her eyes briefly flickered over to him. “I thought the girls weren’t due for another half an hour.” 

Silas gave a disgruntled huff. “No. But as you can see, this is no girl. He’s yours. The one they picked up outside our territory.” 

He gave him a harsh shove from his shoulder blades, and humiliation burned at his cheeks, gritting his teeth together sharply. Ileana’s fox-like eyes almost seemed to gleam in curiosity at the words, humming softly to herself. He felt like he was being stripped down under her gaze. 

“Goodness,” she sighed, the sound like something was melting on her tongue, and Luke shifted uncomfortably. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a male with such high quality blood. If I’d known, I would have made sure to remind my girls to behave. Isn’t that right, Lillia?” 

Ileana’s gaze pounced on the blonde girl, who, when Luke hesitantly followed, noticed that she had been sneaking glances at him from under her light blonde eyelashes. Her eyes widened, tearing them away from Luke and towards the vampire, lifting her head up jerkily. 

“Yes, my Lady,” she stammered, clenching her hands together in front of her tightly. She bowed her head, and this time, her eyes refused to wander anywhere but the spotless carpet she was now fixated on. Ileana’s lip curved into an amused smile, turning back to Silas. 

“You can leave now,” she spoke, her voice a little firmer. “I will take it from here.” 

The vampire didn’t bother to respond, just nodded his head an inch, and Luke was greeted by the sound of the door clicking shut from behind him. He suddenly felt very out of place, but before he could fix his gaze on the vampire once more, she had moved from her casual position on the couch within seconds, standing far too close to him. 

Luke bit back a surprised curse, having to crane his neck up to look at her face. She was incredibly tall, almost dwarfing him in size. It made her much more intimidating as she circled him, her fingers tugging on his clothes as she went. 

“You’re filthy,” she tutted, giving a hard yank on the sleeve of Luke’s jacket. When he went to jerk it away, she meticulously manouvered and pinched his ear, getting a look at his hair. “And your clothes, goodness. This won’t do at all.” 

Luke grit his teeth as she gave his arm another pinch, judging the heap of clothes on his body. He wrenched his arm away from her, face twisted into a snarl. “Get off.” 

Ileana’s eyes shimmered. “Oh, and a temper, too. I suppose that’s to be expected, though.” 

Her long, silver hair swished along her back as she turned, moving like silk in water. It was almost as if the air around her was filled with grace, her chin always jutted high to display her presence. Her eyelashes fluttered as she spoke. 

“Girls,” she cooed, her voice taking on a different tone than what she’d been talking to Luke with. It almost melted with a soft sultriness, and their heads lifted up eagerly. “Please bathe him, and prepare some spare clothes.” 

There was a chorus of ‘yes, my Lady’’s from them, and Luke almost stuttered on a retort. “Bathe?” 

Ileana gave a fang-like smile. “You’re under my jurisdiction, and I won’t have you wearing those rags. Would you rather I force you, dear? Because you know I can, and that will only be more humiliating for you.” 

Luke’s cheeks went pink, grinding his teeth together. There wasn’t anything wrong with his rags; just because he didn’t wear such pretentious, high quality outfits didn’t mean they weren’t doing the same job. He begrudgingly glanced towards the girls, the blonde one, Lillia, having come towards him while the other two stepped through a door, leading into what Luke could only assume was a lucious, en-suite bathroom. 

“This way, please,” Lillian quietly spoke, keeping her eyes down and her hands clasped in front of her. After having been called out by Ileana, she didn’t seem to want to risk getting called out a second time. Luke felt sorry for them, forced to bend to the will of this vampire like slaves. 

He gave the silver haired vampire one last glance, before relenting. At least this way, he might be able to have some privacy. He hated the way Ileana’s bright red eyes seemed to glow in smug amusement, watching him intently as Lillia led him towards the open door, held open by the black haired girl. The other was preparing the bath, a huge ceramic tub with golden linings at the bottom. 

When the door clicked shut, Luke was left in awkward silence. 

Lillia was looking at him now, her shoulders seeming less tense. The black haired girl swept up beside her, whispering something in her ear that Luke couldn’t hear. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Lillia blush, and the other giggled softly. Taking a moment to get a better look at them, he gazed at the third by the tub, running her hand gently through the water to test the temperature. 

Awkwardly, he stepped a little closer to her. “Hey.” 

She glanced up, her eyes filling with a look of surprise for a moment. She straightened up, seemingly inching away from him. Luke wondered if she was shy or simply scared of him. He didn’t want to imagine what Ileana was doing to them. 

They were dressed, well, not provocatively, but Luke had never seen such a simple yet luxurious looking dress before. All of them were wearing it, a dress that was a smooth shade of blue, with frilly shoulders and a frilly cut out along the bottom, in the middle of their thighs. The white apron, small and rounded, fit snugly around their waist. A smooth collar decorated with a miniature ribbon was wrapped around each of their necks. 

They were like servants, obedient and yet clearly frightened of whatever approached them. 

Luke loathed the idea of becoming like this himself. 

The black haired girl suddenly appeared, gently taking her shoulders and pulling her back from Luke. He was momentarily confused, wondering if he’d done something wrong, before Lillia cleared her throat. He glanced at her. 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her blonde eyelashes fluttering as she gazed up at him. “She’s new, and we’re not supposed to talk to other humans. Our Lady says so.” 

Luke cringed. “Your Lady?” 

Lillia nodded her head, smiling softly. Her skin almost glowed, her cheeks rosy and her eyes a unique shade of green, light and delicate as she gazed at him politely. He wearily glanced at the other two girls, the nervous one having retreated to fetch some clothes for him while the black haired girl took over on preparing the bathtub. 

The sound of rushing water filled the room. 

“You’re talking to me,” he pointed out slowly. Lillia tucked some of her hair behind her ear. It was a light shade of blonde, veering more towards an undertone of white than yellow. She was pretty. In fact, Luke found that they were all very pretty. He was a little overwhelmed, wondering if it was because of the heat from the filling tub. 

“Yes, well,” she paused, shifting on her feet. “I have been here a lot longer. Please don’t mind her. She’s just trying to get used to everything.” 

“Used to everything,” Luke scoffed, his brows pinching. “You’re Ileana’s slaves.” 

Lillia’s eyes widened. “Slaves?” She squeaked. “No, not at all. I like serving our Lady.” 

“I don’t believe that for a second,” he deadpanned. Lillia tilted her head, hands collapsing the front of her dress. She looked as though she was about to argue for a second, before indifference passed over her eyes. She gave Luke a shy once over, swallowing. He didn’t need her to say anything to understand what she was thinking. Apparently where he’d grown up was causing a lot of people to draw some unwarranted conclusions about him. 

“My name is Lillia,” she finally seemed to whisper, eyes flickering over to the other two girls. The black haired one stood by the tub, not shy about staring directly at Luke. Still, she smiled. 

“Brooke,” she introduced. She had a sprinkle of light freckles across her cheeks, framed by wavy black hair that splayed out just below her shoulders. Dark blue eyes captured his own, and Luke nodded his head. The other girl, the last one, had seemed reluctant to say anything at first. But eventually, she opted to give her name, too. 

“Cali,” she whispered softly. A similar jet black, and her hair was shorter than the other two, but it was voluptuous in volume and swooped messily over her temples. Her face was round, though hidden away by most of her hair, her eyes thin and dark. She was looking elsewhere, clutching some clothes in her arms. Luke didn’t want to, but he forced a smile on his face. 

“Nice to meet you,” he rumbled. “I’m Luke.” 

Lillia beamed. “Nice to meet you too.” 

With the exception of Cali, he noted how, although he hadn’t believed them, they seemed completely at ease with this life. Luke didn’t understand how - they didn’t seem to be compelled into doing this, just unnervingly complacent. How could they “serve” a woman, no, some creature of the night, so eagerly? 

Luke’s spiralling thoughts were cut off when he suddenly felt Lillia’s fingers on his jacket, gently prying it from his shoulders. His spine stiffened, and he knocked her hands away before he could stop himself. 

“What are you doing?” He hissed. Lillia blinked, tilting her head. 

“Undressing you,” she answered softly. “For the bath.” 

Luke stuttered on a breath, his eyes darting from one girl’s face to the other. They were all staring at him expectantly, and he couldn’t help but grip onto his jacket tightly like it was a lifeline. He struggled to find the right words. 

“While…you’re all in the room?” He stammered, feeling a twinge of embarrassment pinch his chest. “Can’t I have a little privacy?” 

From the tub, Brooke leaned forward, fingers bracketed against the edge of the bath. Her hair fell past her shoulders. “We’re unable to leave you alone.”

She almost looked like she was holding back a small laugh, as if there was some joke that Luke wasn’t privy to. “Besides, we’re not interested in you. Don’t flatter yourself.” 

“I never…” He cut himself off, swallowing the prickly pride in his throat. He doubted he could make a break for it with Ileana in the next room over. He highly doubted the girls would allow him a chance to escape before hollering for their mistress. Easing the death grip on his jacket, Luke felt humiliation burn unpleasantly at his cheeks. 

He made quick work of stripping his clothes off, not wanting to dwardle any longer. His clothes were taken by Lillia, who promptly left to discard them, no doubt never to be seen again. He felt a little bitter about that. When he settled in the tub, Brooke made quick work of lathering some thick liquid in her hands, reaching for his hair. 

He jerked away, the warm water sloshing slightly. She raised a brow. 

“It’s for your hair,” she explained, slightly amused by his confusion. “Tilt your head back a little, please.” 

Luke hesitantly did so, feeling soft fingers start to lather up the soapy shampoo on his head. The feeling was quite therapeutic, actually, and Luke swallowed, trying to let himself grow accustomed to being groomed like a dog. When Lillia returned, she leaned against the tub, and Luke felt a tug on his necklace. He slapped a hand over it, causing Brooke to lean back. He shot the blonde a sharp glare. 

“Not this,” he spoke, his voice firm. “I’m keeping this.” 

Lillia pressed her lips into a thin line, her eyes filling with sympathy. “I’m sorry. I have to discard everything.” 

The necklace pressed against his palm tightly, digging into the skin. The pressure went unnoticed, going straight to the worried stab in his heart. He couldn’t get rid of this - this was his everything, the only memory of his mother. Lillia looked almost taken aback. 

“Please,” he pressed. His voice was shaking slightly. “Not this.” 

She opened her mouth to speak, the words dying in her throat. Her eyes flickered over to Cali, who shyly glanced at her, squeezing the clothes a little tighter. It was almost as if they were communicating something with their eyes, silently. The blonde finally let out a soft sigh, her voice dropping down to an ever so quiet whisper. 

“Alright. But please remember to tuck it under your new clothes.” 

Relief washed through him. “Yeah. I will.” He relaxed slightly. “Thank you, Lillia.” 

She smiled sweetly, nodding her head slightly. She seemed a little more relaxed at Luke’s gratitude, as if she was assured she had done the right thing. The moment was broken when Brooke resumed washing his hair, and another wave of uncomfortabless washed over him. The girls seemed nice enough, but there was no way Luke couldn’t feel embarrased when he was sitting in a warm tub and being washed from head to toe. 

The bathroom filled with scents of tea tree and lavender, almost stinging his nose, the water starting to turn cloudy as time passed. Brooke was thorough with his hair, forcing him to sit there with a stubborn frown on his face. Lillia scrubbed his back and his body with a scratchy flannel, and he wondered if she was trying to take his skin apart in the process. 

There were some places they instructed him to do himself. He was okay with that. 

The tub was drained, and Luke was wrapped in a fluffy dressing gown when he emerged from the water. He was led to a small table, dried off until there was no trace of water left, and instructed to sit down. He caught a glimpse of himself in a huge mirror, and almost blanched. 

It wasn’t as though he had never caught glimpses of himself in reflections back at the camp, but it was the first time he was seeing himself properly. He couldn’t help but stare in confusion, as if he was looking back at a stranger. His locks were still damp, black and twirly, sticking to his forehead slightly. Forest green eyes shimmered slightly under the bright lights. Even though his skin had been scrubbed clean, right down to the bone, it still retained its light almond colour.

He resisted the urge to touch his face, his bottom lip still retaining a sore, red split down the middle from when Silas had backhanded him across the face. It wasn’t bleeding anymore. 

Brooke came in with a hair dryer, blowing pleasant, hot air against his hair. Her fingers genty ran through the locks, and Luke let himself shut off for a moment. It wasn’t easy to forget there were vampires in the next room over, swarming this entire building, but it was a little easier to swallow when he was surrounded by his own kind, and only them. 

Brooke then gently combed his hair, her eyes flickering up curiously. “Did you have anything like this?” 

Luke blinked, momentarily pulled out of his daze. “Huh?” 

“I mean,” she paused, tilting her head. “This is probably a big cultural shock for you.” 

It had been in the back of his mind, all of these strange contraptions and customs and things he would never know existed when living in the middle of nowhere. He had been far more focused on avoiding an unpleasant fate, but Brooke was right. He was more concerned about Ten; whether he was thinking the same things, being alone in such a scary, unfamiliar place. His heart ached. 

“Yeah,” he sighed, picking at the sleeves of the dressing gown. Definitely a big culutural shock. Cali helped dress him, simple clothes that were still silky and soft against his clean skin. He smelled strongly of tea tree too, a scent that was supposedly going to cling to him. 

Lillia tucked his necklace under the clothes.

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 series #whump fic #whump scenario #whumpblr #whump community #vampire whump #non human whumper #lady whumper #multiple lady whumpees #whumper #whumpee #vampires #writing #my writing #avvail whumps

[clickerflight]

A doodle I did for the vibes.

Matsu is, unfortunately, an infinite bloodbag and vampires love that.

#immortal whumpee #vampire whumper #lady whumper #half mer #blood #vampire whump #whump #art #bite #restrained #matsu #he really has a rough time #all of the time

[sowhumpful]

Kinda obsessed with Sir and this twisted relationship.

#whump #prisoner #male whumpee #lady whumper #chained #restrained #captivity #kept in the basement #chained ankle #chained to the wall #chained in the basement #ankle chained #struggle against the chain #Found nbc #mark paul gosselaar #hugh evans

[lumpsbumpsandwhumps]

Women In Whump Pt. 3 (But they're MY women ❤️)

#whump #my art #whump community #whump scenario #whumpee #whumper #whump ideas #whump art #whump prompt #whumpblr #defiant whumpee #whumpee turned whumper #demon whumper #female whumper #female whumpee #female whump #lady whump #lady whumpee #lady whumper #caretaker #reluctant caretaker #guns #tw blood #whumpsona

[heartinthehospital]

not that hot

hunting season masterlist

content: male whumpee, female whumper, big whumpee, small whumper, defiant whumpee, possessive whumper, kidnapping, violence

When Elijah wakes up, Lara is nowhere to be seen. 

Well, he can’t see much of anything. Elijah blinks a few more times to confirm, but he’s sure he’s blindfolded. And tied to a chair. His back muscles tense through his t-shirt as he measures how much movement his arms are allowed when they’re duct-taped behind him. It’s none. The same goes for the duct tape that secures Elijah’s ankles to the chair legs. Slowly, he tries to recollect the events of the last few hours.

There was the gas station. The couple of guys who mugged him. Elijah shifts his weight and winces when he can feel the bruises on his ribcage. There are other injuries, but this has to be the worst of them. Elijah knows what broken ribs felt like, and this isn’t that, but damn if it doesn’t hurt the same. 

There was Lara. The offer to clean him up back at her place. Elijah wonders if his car is still at the gas station and frowns. Everything he packed for the hunting trip was inside, and if getting mugged was any sign, that couldn’t be a safe place to be parked. 

Elijah told Lara about the hunting trip, when she asked why he looked like he was ready to tour Afghanistan. She laughed, and he began to question if it was the alcohol they were sharing or if she did really look that pretty when she smiled. He must’ve asked out loud, because the next thing he remembers, she was on top of—

Elijah hears footsteps. Thank God. 

With a swift tug of the cloth around his eyes, Lara is standing in front of him again. 

“Are you awake?”

Absent-mindedly, Elijah decides that she really is that pretty. There’s no alcohol in his system to convince him otherwise, but as soon as he realizes that, he wonders why he isn’t hungover. There’s no way he doesn’t have a throbbing headache if he blacked out hours ago.

“Eli?” That’s not important.

“My bad,” he clears his throat. “I’m awake.”

Lara steps back, still in the same clothes. Elijah can’t help but imagine how the two of them look. Him, dressed in what looks like military uniform. Her, barely clothed in a wife beater and daisy dukes. If either of them were to be tied up, he wouldn’t expect it to be him.

She’s searching in his face for something, but Elijah doesn’t know what. The look in her ice-blue eyes is unreadable. It's like she's waiting for something. Behind his back, he gently grazes his bloodied knuckles with his fingertips, expecting her to speak first. It doesn’t look like she’s going to.

“Do you want me to be scared?” Elijah offers. 

Suddenly, Lara’s expression turns into blatant confusion.  “What?” 

“I mean, do you want me to be scared?” That’s what he just said. Elijah clears his throat and tries to explain himself. “You know, what we’re doing here. I’m tied up. You’re not. Should I be scared?”

The expression on Lara’s face doesn’t change. Somehow, the conversation brings him back to high school, when everyone stared blankly at him whenever he spoke because his accent was too thick to understand. Elijah feels as stupid as he did then. What was Lara not understanding?

“Okay,” he tries again. “Last thing I remember, we were on your couch together, and I guess I blacked out when we— it’s not important. Now I’m in your basement. You didn’t ask if I was okay with this, which I don’t mind, because I am, but I don’t really do this. I don’t know if I’m supposed to ask if you want me to be scared, or if I should be scared as soon as you walk in. I don’t know how we’d even have sex if I’m tied up like this, honestly.”

Something like recognition clicks in Lara’s face, but she doesn’t say anything. Elijah begins to consider he might not watch enough porn. That’s not true, and he knows it, but no matter how he racks his brain to think of every video he’s watched, he can’t think of one that lets him know what he’s supposed to do. “If you didn’t want me to be this confused, you could’ve told me what you wanted. Maybe it would ruin your fantasy, but it would help. Like I said, I don’t do this.”

Finally, Lara steps back. She looks him up-and-down, her features softening.

“Oh my God, you’re stupid.” The sentence is said with such incredible tenderness, Elijah takes a few moments to register it as an insult. 

“Hey, what the fuck?” 

“You’re not scared?” Lara reaches out a hand to brush against Elijah’s bruised jaw, and he stiffens at the physical contact. “You’re tied to a chair in my basement, and you’re not scared?”

“That’s what I’m asking you.” Elijah shakes his head. “You know what? Nevermind. Thanks for helping me and everything, but I don’t think this is working. I wish it did—” his eyes rake over her body in the same way she did his “—but it’s not.” 

“You’re so stupid,” Lara repeats herself in that same voice, her fingertips still soft against his skin. Elijah might find it attractive if she wasn’t insulting him. She turns her head towards a blinking red light in the corner of the room that he hadn’t noticed. “None of them have ever done that. They always wake up asking me what happened, and he just explained it to himself."

Elijah looks at the camera. “Are you fucking recording this?” 

The dread finally begins to set in, and he struggles against his restraints. The duct tape didn’t feel this tight when he woke up. 

“I’m leaving,” he insists, glaring at Lara. In the back of his mind, he imagines himself telling this story to his friends when he arrives at their cabin. That’s all this is going to be. One of his stories. 

“Go ahead.”

“Fuck you.”

Lara smiles. “Do you always curse this much when you’re scared?”

“I’m not scared. I’m pissed that my fucking pit-stop is going to cost me hours and I’m not even getting laid. Which doesn’t matter because—” he continues to struggle without success “—you’re not that hot anyways.” 

When Lara turns around and walks away, he twists his neck to try and follow where she’s going. “I’m going to get out of this chair, and I swear to God, I’m going to kill you if you don’t help,” he raises his voice to make sure she can hear, his stomach twisting itself into knots. If he strains, he can hear her rummaging through something. “I mean, I’m going to fucking rip you apart. I’ll—”

When Lara returns, Elijah’s voice dies in his throat. He doesn’t know whether it’s the ten-inch hunting knife in her hands or the calmness in her expression that silences him, but either way, his blood runs cold. With every step she takes towards him, his arms twist against the duct tape with more urgency, but he can’t get free.

“What are you going to do to me?” Lara tilts her head innocently, weapon still in hand. 

Elijah stops moving. 

Even when she turns back towards the camera and goes, “I can’t believe that’s all it took to get him quiet,” he doesn’t ask who the fuck she’s talking to. He doesn’t make a sound. Not when Lara steps closer to him, not when she brings the tip of the blade to his Adam’s apple, and not when she smiles at the slow roll of his throat underneath the pressure. Not a goddamn sound.

She puts her mouth against his ear, and when she speaks, her warm breath grazes his skin. “Are you scared yet?” This time, her voice is barely above a murmur. This question’s for Elijah, not the camera. His mouth is suddenly and totally dry.

“Kill me quick.” The words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop himself, but he doesn’t regret them. It’s a hunting knife. The images of what she could do with it flash in his mind one after the other. If all she does is kill him, here and now, it would be merciful. Maybe that makes Elijah a coward, but nobody’s going to know it. 

Twenty-three years. He could be satisfied with twenty-three years.

“That’s not what I asked.” Lara’s knife presses deeper to his throat, and a pinprick of blood drips down his neck. Elijah strains his peripheral vision trying to catch a glimpse of Lara’s expression. Nothing. 

“I’m fucking terrified,” he whispers. It doesn’t matter what his last words are. Nobody’s around to hear them.

When Lara pulls away, knife and all, Elijah doesn’t shut his eyes like he wants to. In a few minutes, he’ll be dead, and maybe he wants Lara to be the last thing he sees. He doesn’t know. Elijah’s about to die, and he doesn’t know anything. 

Lara slams the hunting knife right between his legs into the chair. 

“Good answer,” she hums, looking back over her shoulder to the camera. “I think this one is going to be fun.” Elijah’s entire body shudders involuntarily. 

“I’m serious,” his voice shakes. “Kill me. Quick.” Twenty-three years.

Lara looks back to the sweaty, trembling mess she’s made of him and wrenches the hunting knife out from the chair with little more than a glance in his direction.

“Sorry, I missed.” With an alarming swiftness, she plunges the knife back into his thigh. The scream that rips out from Elijah’s throat drowns out her voice as she steps back to admire her work.

"Like I said. Fun."

#lara's right elijah's stupid #but i love him anyways #she does too #male whumpee #female whumper #lady whumper #big whumpee #small whumper #defiant whumpee #possessive whumper #long term captivity #whump stuff #whump ideas #whump scenario #whump writing #whump fic #whump #elijah king #lara callaway

[honeycollectswhump]

prompt:

you think i actually care about you? cute.

with pet whumpee who started to truly love whumper and believed whumper loved them too

Love and Worship

[masterlist]

CW: pet whump, dehumanization, cigarette burns

There is a certain kind of satisfaction linked to spending one’s evening alone in the big hall, surrounded by nothing but gold and jewels, resting on only the softest cushions while occasionally being fed grapes by servants with shaking hands. Others may call it a dream; Mireille calls it a well-deserved daily life.

Everything is beautiful, just as it is supposed to be. The furniture is spotless, having been meticulously cleaned the second Mireille leaves the room, each gem is polished like the morning sun. The servants –about a dozen– wear only the finest clothes, which are almost as expensive and certainly prettier than anything they deserve. 

But what they deserve doesn’t matter, and who cares about the message trying to be sent, when the domestics look like they were taken from the streets? 

This, the big hall, the rooms, every single floor is art. They are a stage for only the finest performers, and sometimes that means having to clothe simple actors in garments more expensive than their life is worth.

It’s a price Mireille is more than willing to pay. Money is never an issue and of course, they don’t outshine her.

Mireille leans back, letting her long black hair drape over the backrest, and takes a drag from the cigarette held loosely in her hand. She looks like a painting, like the pride and joy of a knowledgeable collector. Every single movement is deliberately elegant in a way that has been taught to her since childhood. A woman like her is worth her weight in gold.

Smoking is just another habit she picked up along the way. It’s part of a perfectly curated image, the mysterious lady, the untouchable femme fatale. A calculated show, one that Mireille cannot go without and the thought of abandoning it makes her hands shake, even though she’d rather die than admit it.

Decidedly, she stops that train of thought before any conclusions could be drawn that would be unbecoming for a lady of her calibre. 

Mireille draws in a deep breath through her cigarette and blows the smoke in the air, watching it drift lazily through the hall. Right next to her, her ashtray kneels on the floor, waiting patiently. 

Out of all of her purchases, he’s her favourite. He is undoubtedly beautiful, about as fine as a diamond, with golden hair and shining blue eyes. But then again, Mireille paid good money for his looks. His beauty is not a compliment, it’s the majority of his worth. She would not be satisfied with anything less than perfection.

Her adoration for her companion-decor goes further than his beauty and the entertainment he brings into her life though. There is something about this particular item that her other servants lack, whose fondness for her doesn’t go beyond an innate, natural sense of loyalty.

Her ashtray worships her. Mireille doesn’t need to hear him say it (and it’s not like he was made to speak in the first place). She can simply tell by the way he looks at her with nothing but pure reverence in his eyes. He offers himself up with eagerness and wears the burns like compliments on his skin. 

It’s intoxicating. 

All of her life, men and women alike have adored her, but this is a different, addicting kind of love. Without a doubt, she is the centre of his universe and Mireille would not have it any other way.

The cigarette is nearly burned to the end. After one last drag, she turns her attention towards her ashtray, pondering how she is going to leave a mark this time. There is so much to choose from, although the little round scars are beginning to pile up. It’s a game for her and a blessing for him. 

“Give me your tongue, won’t you?” Mireille purrs and the ashtray complies immediately, of course. He straightens, eager to have received a command –both mindless puppet and loyal mutt–, and holds out his tongue for her. The thought of disobeying her order would never even cross his mind. 

Something about the way he offers up such a vulnerable part of himself without hesitation gives Mireille a rush every single time. She presses the still-glowing cigarette end into the soft but marred flesh. It should cause a visceral reaction, even after the scar tissue must have numbed the nerve ends.

Her servants would whimper and cry in his place. They wouldn’t know what to do with themselves, shaking in anticipation and fear of the pain. Instead, her ashtray barely shudders and keeps his body rigid and still until she is done.

Only then does he lift his eyes to her face, searching for her satisfaction. Just being allowed to look at her is reward enough for her ashtray, and his eyes shimmer with devotion. When she graces him with a smile, he vibrates with excitement and joy. 

She lifts her hand to his head and pets him and the ashtray all but presses into her touch, content with a job well done. That’s the difference between her servants and her ashtray. He is looking forward to getting burned by her, there is nothing in the whole wide world that he’d rather do.

“You really are enjoying this, huh? Do you actually think I care about you? That’s so cute.” Mireille smiles.

And her stupid little ashtray just melts under a touch he thinks speaks of mutual affection.

taglist: @whumpsday, @2in1whump, @sodacreampuff, @webbo0 let me know if you want to be added or removed :)

#this may not be 100% what you were looking for #but i hope you enjoyed it nontheless #writing stockholm-ish whumpees isn't my usual cup of tea so here: have whatever fucked up thing they have going on #also maybe this'll give some insight as to why ashtray can't speak #it's one of the reasons anyway. there are multiple :D #The Ashtray #ashtray/skye (oc) #honey's writing #pet whump #pet whumpee #conditioned whumpee #lady whumper #whumper pov #whumpee and whumper #human ashtray #ashtray whump #ashtray whumpee #object whump #object whumpee #dehumanization #cigarette burns #burns #human furniture #asks #anon

[avvail-whumps]

Royal Bought #7: Thorns and Roses

previous · masterlist

content warnings: vampire whump, lady whumper, multiple lady whumpees, conditioned whumpees, defiant whumpee, hypnosis, manhandling,

Luke gently ran a hand over the front of his shirt, feeling the outline of the necklace there against his palm, completely hidden. Lillia gently buttoned up the last button, her eyes flitting up to his for a moment, before she stepped backwards.

He wanted to thank her again, his heart twisting slightly from the relief, but it went unspoken.

With Lillia leading the way, he was taken back to Ileana, who seemed to have seated herself at the wooden desk, her intense eyes pinning Luke to the spot as soon as he crossed the threshold.

“We’re finished, my Lady,” Lillia smiled sweetly, and Ileana rose to her feet, smoothly and gracefully, coming towards them. Luke steeled himself to the ground, watching as those pointy fingers gently carressed the bottom of Lillia’s chin, almost making her purr.

“Thank you, my darlings,” she cooed, giving Luke a slow once over. He was suddenly aware of how heavy his necklace was on his collarbone. The girls didn’t seem worried. Ileana’s lips spread into a sly smile, stepping up close to him and invading his space. She seemed to anticipate that he would take a step back, because her long, slender fingers suddenly snapped to his jaw, keeping him still. The sharp fingernails dug into his flesh, and he bit back a painful hiss.

“Much better,” she hummed, jerking his head to the side and inspecting him. The pointy nails were going to leave crescent shaped dents on his skin, he was sure. “You look far more appealing when you’re not caked in dirt, aren’t you?”

Luke huffed through gritted teeth, face twisted into a snarl. He tried to say something, demand she get her filthy hands off him, but her grasp just tightened, squishing his cheeks. It was like he was a child, and humiliation and resent stabbed at his chest.

“Ah, ah,” Ileana purred, her eyes narrowing. “I have plenty of other humans to take care of before the end of the day. Why don’t you be a good boy and get some rest? I’m sure it’ll be much easier to take everything in if you’re well rested.”

Luke gave another sharp grunt, twisting his fingers into her wrist in some attempt to get her hands off him. The pressure was making his jaw throb, like it might snap out of place, blinking back the automatic tears that stung his eyes. He could feel his neck being forced into place, twisted up at an awkward angle, and it was hard for him to look anywhere but her eyes. When he screwed his shut, Ileana gave him a hard tug. A gasp tore from his throat at the stinging pain, eyes flying open.

“I said,” the vampire murmured, and Luke was suddenly falling through tunnels of blinding red. “Why don’t you be a good boy, and get some rest?”

Luke’s breath was suddenly caught in his throat, and when Ileana’s fingers released him, he found he couldn’t quite look away. His head was going all fuzzy and heavy, his thoughts were battling for control, and his expression, wide eyed and tightened, was staring up at her. Ileana leaned forward, flashing her fangs as she smiled. He couldn’t even move back.

“That’s right,” she cooed, her voice dripping with honey. It felt like it was wrapping Luke up snugly, coiling him against her whim. “I am sure it’s been such an exhausting day for you. All you should focus on is getting some sleep. Anything of importance will be discussed later.”

This wasn’t anything like Justinian’s compulsion. This was all consuming, sinking into each limb and each shred of muscle, making them completely hers. He didn’t want to believe her, knew that she shouldn’t, but all he could think about right now was the comforting embrace of sleep. How heavy he felt. How exhausted his mind was.

Her silver hair fell past her shoulders as she brushed her hand through his own hair, the feeling tugging at something in his brain. Telling him to obey, telling him this was right. The hand slid to his cheek, and Luke didn’t even realise he was leaning into the touch. Ileana’s vibrant eyes flickered across his face for a moment, as if studying him, but she leaned back, satisfied.

Luke could only remain stood where he was, planting to the spot. He was surprised he wasn’t swaying with her snake-like movement.

“It’s refreshing to feel someone try and fight it,” Ileana hummed absentmindely, sweeping a hand under her chin as she glanced towards the three girls, all of them swiftly looking away, as if they hadn’t been intrigued by Luke’s reaction to the compulsion. Maybe they were expecting him to break out of it. He was trying, he really was.

“Lillia, Brooke.” The two girls lifted their heads obediently. “Could you take him to a room, please? Straight to bed.”

They both nodded their heads, and Ileana stepped back to her desk, letting her girls deal with the rest. The blonde stopped in front of Luke, his vision all fuzzy and his eyelids droopy. His mind could only just process the feeling of her gently taking his hand, and Brooke guiding him by the shoulder. His feet seemed to move smoothly, effortlessly, as if he wasn’t controlling them at all.

Well, he supposed he wasn’t.

His tongue felt too heavy to say anything, and everything was spinning instead.

Beside him, Brooke shifted. Lillia was still holding his hand, helping to guide him through the corridors. Her brows furrowed.

“Lillia…” She murmured, and the blonde girl looked at her, blinking her eyelashes. She tilted her head in curiosity, then glanced down to their hands. She unlinked them, pink lip twitching with a subtle smile.

“Sorry,” she breathlessly answered, her eyes switching to Luke. She slowed a little, making sure his pace was consistent. “He can still walk okay, right?”

Of course I can, Luke wanted to say. Nothing came out. Their conversation was a little fuzzy, and hard to follow when all he wanted to do was drop down on something soft and sleep all of this grogginess away. Brooke hummed, staring at him.

“Yes,” she finally said, shifting her hand from his shoulder. “I suppose he’s not used to a pureblood’s compulsion. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone fall under it so quickly. Not even you.”

Lillia blushed, her brows furrowing in embarrassment. “That’s different.”

They turned a corner.

“Well, regardless,” Brooke continued, but there was still a hint of amusement in her tone. They stopped by a door, and Lillia fished for a key of sorts, inserting it into the lock. She gave it a hard twist, and it creaked open. Luke felt like he was hit with vertigo when they finally stepped inside. “It must have been some life. Living out there, I mean.”

It was a bedroom, it seemed. Not too large, but extravagantly filled. If Luke had been in his right mind, he might have taken a moment to observe. Instead, he felt an overwhelming tug towards the bed, Ileana’s silky voice weaving between all of his thoughts again. There was a moment of silence, before Lillia spoke. Her voice, this time, was a breathless whisper.

“Oh, Brooke,” she murmured. “I feel sorry for him.”

“Lillia, come on,” Brooke sighed. “We’ve tended to so many other humans before this. Why are you so upset?”

Their words were fuzzy, going in and out. He could barely follow it.

“Because…” She paused, her mouth pressing into a thin line. “Out there, it was probably safe, right? He could have lived a life without having to deal with all of this. We got lucky and yet…the things that we went through. What you went through. Out of everyone, he could have been the closest to ever living a normal life out there. How often do you even think he saw a vampire?”

Luke’s chest stabbed once, then twice. The realisation of this conversation was going to barrel into him in the morning. Whenever that was - Luke didn’t even know what time it was right now.

“Should I feel guilty?” Lillia continued, her voice breathless. “Do I even have that right when we’ve done this to so many other humans?”

Brooke suddenly cut in. “Don’t let Ileana hear you saying things like that.”

“She’s been too distracted with Cali,” the blonde murmured softly under her breath, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. Brooke’s eyes didn’t falter from hers, until suddenly, she was smiling slightly.

“Our Lady has her attention elsewhere, and so you move your interests towards the first guy you see?” She teases, her smile suddenly becoming coy. “And you say I’m the jealous one.”

Lillia’s cheeks went bright red. “It’s not like that. I just want to know more about what’s out there. About him. That’s all.”

Luke felt a faint touch on his arm, and just like that, everything was a blur again. His thoughts didn’t even register it this time, lost in the fuzzy sensations that were engulfing him. He felt something comforting beneath him, making him sink further under. He wanted to open his mouth, wanted to say something, but nothing was working. There must have been a slurred murmur on his tongue, because Lillia suddenly paused, grasping the bedsheets.

She glanced at Brooke. “He’s fighting it.”

“It won’t matter,” the other girl simply responded, tugging the bed sheets up instead. “He’ll just have a headache in the morning. Let’s hurry back.”

Luke’s curls splayed out on the pillow, his eyelids fluttering. Lillia and Brooke were simply two blobs in his vision now, fading into a black void as his mind slipped away, drifting off into a peaceful, undisturbed slumber. He didn’t even hear the door close.

. . .

Luke did have something of a headache when he woke up.

He didn’t know how long it had been, but ironically, it was almost as though he’d slept like the dead. Tingles reverberated in his skull as his eyes fluttered open, almost on command. He was lay flat on his back, seemingly just how he’d been left, the soft sheets cool and comfortable over his body.

Luke’s hand flew up to his temple, giving it a tense massage.

Regardless of the tingling sensation through his skull, Luke hated to admit how refreshed he felt. It was almost like the perfect sleep, and it irked him to know he’d been sleeping away so easily while Ten was somewhere out there all alone.

As if on a schedule, there was a click from the door.

The lock, Luke realised, lifting his head to watch as it swung open, and Lillia stepped inside. She was balancing a tray on her hand, a sweet smile spread across her face. Her hair was styled today, curling slightly at the bottom, half up and half down. Luke must have had a scowl on his face when she approached, because her smile faltered a little bit.

“Did you sleep alright?” She asked, placing the tray down on the bedside table with a small clatter. There was a plate of food, something foreign to Luke, and a glass of water. He eyed it wearily, sitting up. “You may have a headache.”

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, feeling the pleasant stretch in his back as he straightened up. No pain. It was as if the sleep had completely rejuvenated him. Lillia was watching curiously, and also knowingly, eager to get her two cents in.

“I love sleeping under compulsion,” she giggled, as if she could read his mind. Luke sent her a hard look. “I feel amazing when I wake up. I don’t get nightmares like Brooke, but I still ask my Lady. She’s always happy to oblige.”

Luke’s mouth was dry. “Right. Your Lady.”

Ileana - if the silver haired vampire was going to compel him into behaving, then Luke needed to get out of here as swiftly as possible. At least with Silas, there was some petty arrogance in being able to deal with any physical beating he threw his way. He’d hated the feeling of losing all of that power, so much more consuming and powerful that Justinian’s had been.

He recalled something one of the girls had said - a pureblood. Luke was out of his depth when it came to the intricacies of vampires. He didn’t even know a pureblood was a thing, or what it meant. Though, he could guess turning wasn’t the only way to create a vampire.

“Can I have some water?” He asked, pointing to the glass. Lillia winced, nodding her head as she collected herself. She’d been staring at him again.

“Of course,” she smiled, handing him the glass. She went back to the tray again. “I have some medicine for your headache, too.”

Luke took a sip. It was cool and refreshing on his dry tongue. “I’m not taking medicine.”

“But it’ll help.”

“I’m not taking it,” he firmly repeated, and Lillia flinched back. A silence spread through the room as he drank his fill, eyes flickering over to the food. The blonde looked a little fidgety now, and Luke suddenly regretted snapping the way he had done. A quiet sigh slipped past his lips.

“What’s that?”

Motioning to the food, he watched as Lillia followed it, her eyes brightening back up again.

“That’s right,” she beamed, giggling softly. “You have probably never seen something like this, have you?”

She carefully plucked the tray up, placing it on his lap. It was warm through the duvet, almost pleasant would it not be for his current situation. He had been ready to protest, but begrudgingly clamped his mouth shut after feeling a sting of regret for snapping at her when none of this was her fault. He made a disgruntled noise, but didn’t protest. Lillia looked almost pleased to tell him all about the food, which Luke stared at with hard eyes. It was circular shaped, steam rising from the surface. Something golden and thick was smothered all over it, glistening over the spongy substance.

Luke frowned hard.

“They’re pancakes,” Lillia giggled, observing his expression with glee. “Just try them.”

Luke didn’t protest when the fork was pushed into his hand, the knife in the other. After a moment of, as Lillia claimed, etiquette, since apparently it would be messy to eat with his hands, he was cutting into a small bit along the edge, soft and easy to glide along the blade of the knife. The girl suggested scooping up some syrup, she called it, and so he did.

He eased it into his mouth. Luke wasn’t exactly worried about poison; if they wanted him dead, he would be dead already. No, he was here for something far worse.

The first thing he noticed was the taste. His jaw instantly stilled, nose wrinkling slightly. It was an overpowering taste, and he promptly stared at Lillia, who looked like she was struggling to hold in a laugh behind her hand. She snorted, her eyes crinkling with a laugh as he continued to slowly chew. It was like paste, a little soggy with the syrup, and so sweet.

“It has a lot of sugar,” Lillia giggled, trying to get herself together. A part of him might be able to forget he’d been kidnapped by vampires if Lillia was by his side. “The syrup is a little sickly. You’re just not used to it.”

Luke prodded the sponge. It wasn’t bad - just not what he was used to.

“You need to eat, though,” she continued, having calmed herself down a little bit now. She tucked some hair behind her ear. “My Lady wants you to be as healthy as possible.”

“It’s…” He took another bite. “What is this?”

“Pancakes,” Lillia smiled. “They’re very nice. You can have them with all sorts of toppings. Maybe I shouldn’t have started with syrup.”

Luke grunted. He tried scraping as much of the syrup off as possible, before continuing to eat. Even if it didn’t taste amazing, his body was clawing at any chance to get some food into his stomach. He wondered just how much food the kingdom had access to when his people had been starving out in barren lands. Absentmindedly, his eyes trailed to the window.

“Can you do me a favour?” He began, glancing at Lillia as he ate. The girl’s spine straightened, beaming from head to toe.

“Happy to help.”

He motioned to the window. “The window.”

Lillia followed his gaze, rubbing her hands together. “You would like some fresh air?”

Her voice was a little tight, her throat bobbing. She looked back towards Luke, her blue eyes softening with that same look of sympathy again. A part of him recalled the conversation she and Brooke had had when he was under Ileana’s compulsion. Lillia and the others served their “Lady” like obedient pets, helping to prepare their own kind to be sold off to the same creatures that enslaved them too. Luke doubted she didn’t have a choice, but she seemed rather complacent in her role.

“Yes,” he answered. He paused, adding a small: “Please?”

The girl rubbed her neck. It seemed like the windows were meant to be kept locked shut, otherwise she wouldn't be hesitating as much as she was. After a few quiet moments, she seemed to relent. Judging by the fact she had let him keep his necklace, Luke had been expecting it.

“Alright,” she nodded. “Though, we must make a leave when you’re finished eating. My Lady is feeding, but she expects us to be on time.”

Luke dismissively nodded her head. Finished with his plate, Lillia leaned forward to take it, placing it on the bedside table once more. She watched him as he slipped out of bed, feeling a little fuzzy headed as he rose to his feet. His socked feet hit the floor, taking a moment to steady himself. Once Lillia deemed him okay to stand, she began moving over to the window, one that she opened with a key attached to a necklace around her neck. She eased it back under her clothes once done, as Luke silently picked up one of the silk napkins (was it a handkerchief? Luke didn’t care to know), cradling it in his palm.

Lillia unlatched the window, huffing as she pushed it upwards. Luke’s eyes darted to the door, murmuring a silent apology under his breath as he pressed the cloth over her mouth and nose, pulling her back against him. Lillia’s squeal was swallowed by his hand, her scared flails pinned by Luke’s other arm as he kept her close, preventing her from making too much noise.

He wanted to tell her he was sorry for knocking her out like this, but he didn’t want to say anything that the vampires, especially Ileana, might overhear. He was probably pushing his luck thinking he could do this without being caught. Lillia went under more swiftly than he had expected, her body going limp within a few minutes. He ever so gently set her down on the floor, her face relaxed and eyes closed. He made sure she was still breathing properly, setting her down modestly on her back.

Luke felt bad, but his survival was paramount. He had an eleven year old kid to look for. Stepping up towards the window, he leaned out, taking in the ground below him. It was clear, as far as he could see. He felt confidence spark in his chest as he swung his legs over, determined to make a swift getaway.

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