#caretaker new master
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Whumpee thinks Caretaker is their new master. Good trope, right? But check this out;
Caretaker doesn't notice.
Because the morning after the day they were rescued, all Whumpee did was get Caretaker a cup of coffee. It was only after then that Whumpee realized new master new rules, and Caretaker might not like coffee at all. So after an hour or so of a panic attack, Whumpee decides to stay put and not do anything.
But Caretaker didn't say anything about that coffee, so Whumpee should probably keep doing that?
And so, every morning, Caretaker gets a cup of coffee, says thank you, that's a nice gesture, and gets done with the day, while Whumpee tries to stay as quiet and unnoticed as possible. Not angering Caretaker is their top priority. Caretaker notices Whumpee is really, really quiet, but hey, they might just like it quiet. They do seem a little scared, but they've been putting off well, so Caretaker is positive that they'll get better with time.
Then Caretaker hears Whumper liked a cup of coffee every morning.
That's.. a strange coincidence.
I hope that's a coincidence.
And they finally try to talk to Whumpee about it, and Whumpee breaks into tears and Caretaker realizes what a mess this is,
#and I don't know how to end this post#this has been sitting in my saves for around three months#whump#whumpee#whump prompts#whump idea#whumper#whump prompt#whump ideas#caretaker#recovery whump#whump tropes#caretaker new master#bad caretaker#caretaker new whumper
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I know it's cliche, but hear me out. The Whumpee thinks Caretaker is their new master trope, just that Caretaker is trying to give Whumpee a bath, and Whumpee used to be punished being drowned or something like that, so they beg Caretaker that they'll be good, that they'll behave, etc.
tw past trauma, caretaker new master, conditioned whumpee
“No! No, please, Master, I’m sorry!”
“What’s gotten into you?” Caretaker stared down at the poor thing in front of them hugging their legs like there was no tomorrow. “Whumpee–”
“I’ll be good! I’ll behave! I don’t know what I did, Master, I’m sorry! I’m sorry for being so stupid that I didn’t even realise I was being bad! I’m so sorry!”
“Whumpee, I’m just trying to give you an opportunity to wash up–”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry–”
Caretaker sighed. Alright, they just had to pet their hair and wait it out.
“Hey, Whumpee…” they tried again once the pet had quieted down a little. “Are you okay?”
“Y-yes, Master,” they sniffled. They didn’t sound very okay, but it was a start. “I’m s-sorry.”
“Why do you think you did something wrong, honey?”
“I– I must’ve, I must’ve! I know I did something, if you want t-to– to ‘give me a bath’, I– please, please d-don’t, I’m so sorry…”
Caretaker frowned. “What do you think a bath means?”
Whumpee looked up at them with those wide, tear-filled eyes, so terrified that Caretaker could barely stand it. “D-drowning, Master. Please, I, I know I must deserve it, but please, punish me any other way! I can’t do it again, I can’t, please…”
Oh, that sick bastard.
“Shh, sweetie… It’s okay…” They tried to unwrap Whumpee’s arms from around their legs so they could help them stand up, but eventually they just settled for getting on the floor with them. They pulled Whumpee into a tight hug, rubbing their back as they continued to cry. “I didn’t mean it like that… I’m never gonna hurt you like that, yeah? Ever.”
“Y-you’re… not?”
“No, of course not. Of course not. I promised you’d be safe here, and I meant it. Let’s just calm down.”
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Whump Prompt
Whumpee spent the entire day cleaning. Their skin is cracking, their hands are bleeding, their back is breaking, their face seems eternally stained with tears.
They just want to collapse and sleep, but they still need to make dinner and then wash the dishes and then entertain Caretaker Master and then prepare Master’s pajamas and then fluff Master’s pillow and then make sure Master goes to sleep comfortably and then Whumpee can finally sleep.
Whumpee wants to beg for another break, but they’re terrified they ask for too many mercies. They’re terrified that one day Master will get fed up with their excuses and beat them for once.
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Tiny Pet prompt
I wanted to write a story with a giant and their tiny pet, some kind of Giant Caretaker receiving Tiny Whumpee as a present but since I can’t put in on the paper I will change my story into a prompt.
In Caretaker's society only the wealthiest can afford Tiny pets. Caretaker is one of them, their family had a Tiny pet when they were a kid but Caretaker remember that their Tiny always looked sad and cried a lot, even more after Caretaker's Mom cut their tongue.
Caretaker never wanted a Tiny pet but their parent decided it was the perfect gift for their beloved child who just became an adult and lived on their own. So one day when Caretaker come home from work they find a cage with a note from their parent on it, inside of it there is a Tiny pet named Whumpee. Whumpee is dead scared of the Giants but Caretaker is decided to show them they’re not like their fellows.
#gt#giant/tiny#g/t#g/t prompts#giant caretaker#caretaker new master#tiny whump#scared whumpee#tiny whumpee#pet whumpee#writing prompt#whump prompt#reluctant caretaker
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pet whumpee who is still so naively loving and affectionate towards whumper (or anyone really) no matter what they do to them.
it's not even like they're fawning in the hopes they won't be hurt - they don't even seem to have a problem with being hurt in the first place. they don't enjoy it, and they scream and cry and plead for mercy when the pain becomes too much, but if hurting them makes master happy, then they'll happily tolerate it without complaint.
besides, master is always so sweet to them afterwards, cleaning and bandaging their wounds with gentle hands, wiping whumpee's tears away with their thumb and telling them that they're a good girl/boy, they did such a good job for master.
they just want love and affection. like a puppy who always returns to its master, tail wagging happily, no matter how many times it's kicked or shouted at.
and in the event of whumpee being rescued, they're... honestly so permissive and docile it kinda freaks caretaker out at first.
caretaker was fully equipped to handle someone terrified, or potentially violent, but whumpee is just... calm. they even seemed reluctant to be taken from wherever whumper kept them, but they still went along all the same. their skin was marred with all kinds of horrible scars and bruises, but they still leaned happily into anyone's touch, their eyes full of love and trust for someone they might have just met moments ago.
it leaves caretaker conflicted. whumpee has seen unimaginable trauma, this behavior is surely a result of that, they can't possibly be in their right mind... but caretaker can't help but wonder if they should even bother trying to 'fix' them. whumpee seems perfectly happy this way, and it'd be a lot of slow, painful work to try and make them into a person again.
caretaker would never dream of hurting whumpee. so... is it really so bad to just let them keep living this way? just as caretaker's pet instead?
#whump#whump prompts#pet whump#stockholm syndrome#caretaker new master#morally dubious caretaker#potentially carewhumper but in a sort of unintentional way#mine
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"Adoption"
Masterpost:
“As you can see, our policy clearly states, only one pet per customer. I’m afraid those are the rules.” Whumper gave them a wide, fake smile. “Now, what kind of traits would you prefer it to have? As you can see, we have quite the variety.”
With an even wider smile, the monster waved their hands towards the dimly lit hallway, lined with cells Caretaker would consider unfit for dogs. Each and every one was crammed to the brim with victims --The stench of waste and misery and the even greater amount of perfume pumped out to mask it only confirmed the fact-- but the prison was deathly silent. When he had made the mistake of peering through the rusty bars, the only thing to stare back were the shackles winked as they held on tight to their prey and sucked them dry of dignity and freedom. For the third time since their foot had struck the bloodstained concrete, Caretaker swallowed down bile.
Only one. They had been warned that this would happen, and had foolishly waved it off. These traffickers were sadists, yes, but he had assumed that their greed would make them compliant. Caretaker had the wealth to convince even the devil himself to retire from hell, and it still wasn’t enough. They sighed in defeat and stuck their hands in their pockets, initiating plan B.
“I want to see their eyes.” Caretaker finally spoke, taking care to mimic Whumper’s inflection: Cool and professional, with the slightest hint of sadistic glee. A voice any monster would relate to.
“I’m sorry, but we would recommend against that. None have earned the privilege.”
“I ignore your recommendation.” At the trafficker’s frown, they layered their voice in even more syrup. “If I don’t see the fear in their eyes, how will I know I’m getting what I paid for?”
Whumper still hesitated. “I’m… It’s just that not all are guaranteed to obey, you see. Some are still in the process of being broken in, and there are a few kept rebellious to suit the needs of the buyer.”
“Then I will wrangle them myself.” And with that, Caretaker knew they had succeeded.
“Eyes forward, pets!” the trafficker cracked their whip, and a sickening chorus of pleas and whimpers followed, each more pitiful than the last.
“Ignore the cacophony, if you would please,” Whumper said with a roll of their eyes. “The pets only wish to manipulate your decision by showing how well they can scream.”
Caretaker sniffed in disgust jamming their hands even further into their pockets lest they strangle the closest waste of air. What mattered more was leaving this hellhole with their cover still intact. “Are they collared?” They asked through gritted teeth.
“Oh, yes, they are perfectly safe to approach!”
“Then don’t mind me.” Caretaker turned his back on the conversation to stalk upon the first cage. The being inside was a blonde scrap of matted hair, bloodied flesh, and tattered wings. Before the poor thing could even gasp, Caretaker had grabbed onto her collar and yanked them forward, until their foreheads practically touched through the cage bars. They made a show of studying the pet’s eyes, all the while their hand attached, secured, and activated the tracker. It was a strategy proven tried and true: Either the collars went with the pets to their new owners, and the agency was able to track them down and arrest a new criminal, or the collars stayed with the traffickers no matter how many times their compound was relocated in an attempt to remain hidden. Caretaker faked a grunt of disapproval, and moved on, already latching onto the collar of the next slave.
All the while, Whumper hovered by their side like a buzzing hornet, a constant reminder that Caretaker couldn’t afford to mess up. Practice alone kept his hands steady and his movements fluid. They made a show of poring over the braver ones, pretending to ponder. Tracker after tracker, cage after cage, and they were still going strong. Even still, with three rows per column and more than a hundred cages on the right side alone, Caretaker had to face the grim reality that he could tag only so many beings. Even with a generous overestimation, they couldn’t have imagine how big this ring was, nor how many were suffering.
As his supplies dwindled, Caretaker was forced to take up the facade of a rapidly uninterested browser, picking cages at random and tagging the strongest, the most rebellious, or the most disassociated specimens, beings who had the least likely chance of ratting the whole operation out. The trackers were far too small to be spotted in the darkness, and thin enough to disguise their presence as a roughness in the leather at most, but they could never be too careful. They avoided the eyesight of all those they couldn’t help now, mumbling apology after apology under their breath.
“Oh, dear, does nothing interest you?” Whumper asked once the trackers had run out. “What a shame. I had told my pets to be on their best behavior today.” With a single glare, every slave was cowering.
“It’s not their fault.” Caretaker said, before they could stop themselves. “I’m sure they could please any normal master just fine, but I crave a challenge.”
Whumper’s eyes glinted. “A challenge, you say?”
They hesitated ever so slightly before replying. Why not? If I leave empty-handed, that’s one life I could have rescued. “Tell me, Whumper, what do you find more exhilarating? A disobedient mongrel who needs to be taught respect, or a broken pile of bones who needs to be reminded how to properly scream for their master’s pleasure once again?”
Whumper took a moment to answer. “My job requires the former far more than the latter, sadly. I find that nothing stirs up creativity than a pet who’s felt everything. When you finally unlock their agony after they’ve only pretended to whimper for so long…” They snapped their fingers. “Oh, you’ll find there’s nothing like it.”
“I assume you have the perfect specimen of that sort for me, then?” Caretaker asked. “I expect nothing less from your compound.”
“But of course! Follow me, I have just the thing.” Whumper took out a key ring and unlocked the trap door Caretaker had noticed upon entering. They followed the monster to the depths of its lair, where the only light was Whumper’s own flashlight, and the only sounds were the endless, maddening drips of water supplied from overhanging buckets.
“You’ll have to forgive the mess.” Whumper said as Caretaker smashed their shin against an exposed pipe. “This is where I work on cases not yet fit for purchase, and as such is not usually available to the public. I wasn’t expecting visitors.”
“What gives me the honor, then?”
Whumper turned back to flash them a wink. “Let’s just say that I know an experienced hand when I see one. I have no doubt you’ll be able to handle even the most difficult of mongrels.
Caretaker’s heart leapt to their throat. That wink… how he had specifically mentioned his hands… Had Whumper found him out? In the basement, there would be no better place to entrap them… they had willingly walked into a trap! Caretaker’s hands hovered indecisively, unsure of what to grab. The knife, hidden in their boot, or the cyanide pill on their sleeve?
“Ah, here we are!” Whumpee’s voice made them flinch, and they promptly bashed their head against the low ceiling. “Oooh, watch your head! The toys are right over here.”
Sure enough, each locked in sensory deprivation and each rendered immobile in some way or another. One silhouette hung from the ceiling, forced into perpetual tiptoe, while another lay crumpled on the ground, kept eternally submerged in a pool of murky water. Whumper pulled them along enthusiastically, calling “This one, this one! Oh, she’s my favorite!”
“She,” Turned out to be a young humanoid, chained against the wall, with a tangle of curls that hid her face, but could not conceal her sawn off horns.
“She’s a tricky one to crack alright, but I think I’ve almost got her,” The Headmaster continued, their hyena-like laughter echoing throughout the chambers. “I’ll let you figure out the answer though. Oh, what fun you’ll have!”
“Indeed…” Was all Caretaker could say.
“So, will you take her?”
I can’t believe I’m doing this… Perhaps they wouldn’t be able to, had her eyes been open or if her face hadn’t been obscured or if her voice had begged him. But as it was…
“No. I have someone else in mind.”
“Oh? Who, pray tell?”
Caretaker had promised to themselves that if it came down to it, they would rescue the one who had needed it most. And Whumper had offered up his “favorite” just a bit too eagerly. If they had to guess who in this dungeon was truly the most in need of him, his guess would have to be…
“This one.” Caretaker pushed aside Whumper to enter into the cell they had been hurried past. The resident inside lay kneeling on the ground, their hands chained behind them. A blindfold and a pair of headphones kept them from reacting to Caretaker’s footsteps as they approached. “They seem like an interesting challenge.”
“W-who, Whumpee?” The trafficker scoffed. “I was just about to send it upstairs, in fact. Trust me, there is nothing to look at on that front.”
“Is there?” Caretaker crouched down and took off Whumpee’s blindfold. Instantaneously, they leaned forward and kissed the tops of Caretaker’s boots. The detective gagged.
“P-personally, I think… I think they are just what I am looking for. And since they’re about to go upstairs, they’re practically for sale, right?”
Whumper didn’t answer; Caretaker had backed them straight into a corner. “I didn’t say they were ready… we still have a few tweaks to work through..”
“I’ll work through with them myself.” Caretaker promised. When Whumper didn’t budge, he pretended to lower his guard. “Please… give me this one, and you’ll have a regular customer on your hands. I have enough to make it worth your while…”
“Oh...alright. They will cost a bit extra, just to warn you.”
Caretaker leaned over and took off Whumpee’s headphones, using the action as an excuse to hide their smile. They did it! The tiniest victory was gained, but it was a victory nonetheless. “Consider it a deal. I’ll sign any necessary paperwork.”
“You want them now?” The trafficker whined.
“Of course! They’re my property, aren’t they?” Caretaker made their tone a threatening growl. “You don’t mean to scam me, do you?”
“No, no, never! It’s just that.. Well, that pet is currently in punishment. Quite severe punishment, in fact. A break in their routine like this may render it’s conditioning ineffective, as it will be rewarded for bad behavior, see?”
Caretaker turned to face Whumpee as they made the tiniest of moans. Huge, terrified eyes blinked up at him. Caretaker stared back, suddenly wishing that they had kept the headphones on as the next words were forced to leave his mouth.
“Oh don’t you worry. I am the worst punishment this mongrel could possibly imagine.”
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I’m back on my caretaker new whumper bullshit again.
Assuming that the person helping you is going to hurt you. Flinching at the touches. Crying quietly in the corner as they approach. Lashing out, snarling and screaming because you don’t want to be hurt again. Trying to hide your wounds so they can’t see your weak points. Kneeling in front of them, begging for mercy. Finding alterior motives for every kind action. Lying awake, wondering if tomorrow is when the horror with start. Expecting to be beaten and chained. Showing someone your messiest, most fearful moments, knowing full well they could take advantage of you. Easily.
But they don’t.
#worlds babbles#Mmmmm it’s delicious#whump#caretaker new whumper#caretaker new master#whump tropes#recovery whump#whump community
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Pocket
My first foray into tiny whump, because I was really inspired by this post and couldn't get the idea out of my head.
Content: accidental caretaker, caretaker new master, tiny whumpee, immortal whumpee, conditioned whumpee, abandonment, magical whumpee, nonmagical caretaker.
...
It was cold. Eight am was no reasonable time to be outside or among a crowd.
Emery stood with a cup of coffee in her hand and a pair of sunglasses on, huddled in her winter coat with four hundred dollars in cash clenched territorially in her pocket.
Hopefully she could get this storage unit for cheap. She couldn't throw a bunch of money around and, judging by the crowd and the cars they showed up in, they had more than twice what she did at their disposal. This was their job, and Emery was there only at the chance to rent the only open storage locker remotely close to her.
She was desperate, basically. The underpaid employee on the phone basically told her to try, but there wasn't a guarantee.
The auction began with a small unit. Dirty, barely anything in it. It went for ten bucks. Emery was cautiously optimistic. Maybe that was an omen to the crowd, but a green light for her. After all, she didn't care what was actually in the locker.
They approached. The unit was opened. Emery took a peak over the crowd on her tip-toes.
"Another garbage unit."
"Pretty sure I saw that same desk going for fifteen bucks. Been on the site three months."
The bidding began, and it went from five to twenty. Okay, no big deal. She put her hand up. Thirty. Then forty.
"Sold! For fifty five dollars. Make sure to pay at the desk."
Emery was shaking. What a rush. She ran to the office, warmer and way more awake.
"Sorry, it's already been signed for."
"What? But... I really need a locker."
"Sorry, dunno what to tell you."
Emery paid. "Is there any way-"
"No. Empty the locker by tomorrow or we'll have to charge you, okay?"
Fucking fantastic.
By the time she opened the locker, she had almost forgotten just how much stuff was actually in it.
The door slapped open with an echoing bang, and she stepped inside. She started with the big things up front. A desk and bedroom set. She took pictures and placed them for free with pickup.
She kept going, finally having cleared a path to the back where a large piece of furniture sat in the back corner, covered by a painters cloth. Emery pulled it down, gawking at a large, and really heavy, armoire.
It was the nicest piece in the unit, which had plenty of room for her things. Maybe she could sell it? Make some money to spend?
She began her investigation by looking at the back. The flashlight on her phone found nothing. Then she moved to the doors; outfitted with ornate brass pulls and hand carved vines encircling them. She pulled it open, assessing the doors and finding a little marks on the inside. Unreadable.
Emery turned on her flashlight again, this time turning it to the inside of the cabinet. It was full of little trinkets. Tiny ceramic animals, ballet figurines made of china, porcelain dolls that looked... expensive as fuck.
Then, in the very back of the bottom shelf, there was a glass box. It was the biggest thing in the cabinet; about eight inches long and six inches wide. She lift it from its spot, careful not to knock anything over. Maybe it was something rare. She took a look, surprised.
It was a charming miniature bedroom with a wooden bed and nightstand, complete with a crochet circular rug, a cozy chair, and a light hanging from the glass roof with wires that led through the base to a battery underneath. She turned it on, and that's when she spotted a little person with green hair lying in the bed, asleep.
It looked so real.
Especially when it... opened it's... eyes?
"What the fuck!" She almost dropped the thing, but caught it as a little scream came whistling out of the glass. She put it on a shelf that matched her height, and witnessed for herself the little thing... the little person, pushing themself off of the floor and fixing their upturned nightstand.
"Oh no. Oh no." Their voice was worried as they cleaned up quickly, glancing at Emery as she gaped at them.
"H-hello!" They said, nervously, still attending to the mess. "I'm s-sorry I scared you."
Emery didn't answer, too shocked. It was talking... to her.
The little thing looked at her again, giving her it's full attention. "I... I'm sorry... master didn't like my room to be messy... I... do you..." their face twisted and they began to cry. "I don't want to make you mad. P-please don't put me back in there!"
"Oh..." Emery snapped out of her stupor. "No. I... I'm sorry I just can't believe you're... alive?"
The thing... whatever it was... was still crying but put on a smile.
"Thank you! Yes. I-" it sniffed. "I didn't mean to scare you. M-my name is Pocket."
"Pocket?" Emery said. "What... are you?"
Pocket smiled, their cheeks turning rosy. "I'm a pixie!"
"A pixie." Emery relaxed back, realizing she had dropped her phone on the ground in all the excitement. She picked it up, groaning at the cracked screen glass. "Damn it, all."
"Are you upset, master?"
At that, Emery looked back up at... Pocket, whose rosy cheeks suddenly were sapped of color. Their emerald-green eyes flooded with tears again.
"Oh, no!" Emery reassured, holding up her phone. "I just cracked my phone. But it isn't your fault!"
They beamed at the reassurance but couldn't stop their tears. They hid their face behind their hands a moment, taking small breaths. When they removed their hands, it was as if they weren't crying at all, and their emerald eyes had turned a bright peridot.
"Oh good! I'm so glad you're not upset! I-"
"Hello?"
Emery turned to see a man at the entrance of the unit.
"Are you the one who asked about renting this locker?"
"Yeah, that's me. Am I taking too long?"
"No, not at all. The other tenant fell through, actually. Do you still need it?"
Emery's eyes widened. "Yes! Um, just give me one-" She glanced at pocket, who was already lying back in their bed, still as before. She blinked, suddenly feeling as if their interaction might have been a dream.
She turned back to the man. "Nevermind. I'll follow you."
#tiny whump#immortal whumpee#magical whumpee#conditioned whumpee#caretaker new master#accidental caretaker#whump snippet#oc pocket#pixie whumpee#(edit: i lost the link to the post! uh. i cant find it again.)#fae whumpee
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The Unexpected Gift
cw reluctant whumper, pet whump, captivity, carewhumper, caretaker new master, dehumanization/use of “it” as a pronoun
“My lady?”
She huffed, paintbrush hovering over the canvas in front of her. “Why on earth are you interrupting me, Julian?” she demanded without looking up. “You know I like to concentrate when I'm painting.”
“Yes, miss, I know,” Julian replied from his place in the doorway. “However, I must inform you that Lord Donovan sent you a gift. It has just arrived, and he requested it be brought to you at once.”
“Oh, how lovely,” Charlotte said, voice dripping with sarcasm. She set aside her paintbrush and turned to face Julian. “And I'm sure he expects something in return. Perhaps my hand in marriage, or something equally ridiculous?”
Julian’s lips quirked up in an understanding smile. “According to him, the gift is merely a show of friendship. Although, I am sure neither he nor your parents would be opposed to finally marrying the two of you off.”
Charlotte laughed, abandoning her easel for the time being and taking a seat on the sofa. She appreciated Julian’s good humor and their shared distaste for the supposedly inevitable union between her and Donovan. “Well, alright then—bring it to me. Heaven knows I need another pearl necklace or tea set or whatever he’s sent over this time.”
An uncertain look flashed across Julian’s face. “Right, yes. Well, I must warn you, this present is a bit different from the ones Lord Donovan has given you before.”
Charlotte adjusted the fabric of her skirt, smoothing out a sea of blue satin. Already bored of the whole ordeal, she said, “I don’t have all day, Julian. Just bring it to me.”
“Right away, my lady,” he replied with a nod, before swiftly exiting the room.
Late afternoon light formed golden panels on the floor, and Charlotte’s gaze followed it out the window. Her mind wandered as she studied the gardens outside, which she had been in the middle of painting before the interruption. She hardly noticed Julian and one of her other servants return to the drawing room until he coughed, announcing his presence.
“Lady Charlotte,” Julian said as he crossed the room to stand in front of her. “Your gift from Lord Donovan, sent with his deepest affections and admiration.”
Charlotte shook herself out of her thoughts and turned to face him. Her breath caught in her throat and she felt the color drain from her face when she took in the sight in front of her. Standing just behind Julian was another of her servants, who was holding onto a delicate silver chain. The chain was connected to a pair of cuffs which were locked around the wrists of a young man whose gaze was cast on the floor.
“Is this some sort of practical joke?” Charlotte choked out, looking at Julian for answers.
He shook his head. “I am afraid not, miss. Lord Donovan said that a lady of your standing deserves such a gift. You may read his letter at your convenience.”
Charlotte’s eyes returned to the “gift.” The man was fairly young—about her age, she figured—of average height, and worryingly thin. His clothes hung loosely from his frame and they were worn; the neckline of his shirt fell to one side, revealing a prominent collarbone. He had a small, upturned nose and his face was framed by messy, dark locks. Charlotte’s first thought was that he needed a haircut.
“I—I really don’t know what to say.” Charlotte glanced at Julian again, floundering. “Why in God’s name would Donovan send me such a thing?”
“It seems that he acquired it in his recent travels,” Julian answered. “However, he said that if it displeases you, you may return it at once and he will figure out something to do with it.”
The man’s shoulders tensed at that, but he made no other move. His eyes remained obediently fixed to the floor.
Charlotte’s chest tightened and she replied hurriedly, “No, no—don't send him back. Heaven knows where he’ll end up.” Wherever it was, she could only expect it would be much worse. She had heard stories of the way people treated their pets, and it was horrifying enough to keep her up some nights.
“Well,” Julian began, “if you wish to keep it, I can arrange for accommodations to be made. For the time being, would you prefer to have it sleep in the cellar, or perhaps the shed in the garden?”
“Dear god,” Charlotte breathed in shock. “Nothing of the sort. He can sleep in my chambers.”
The man looked up at that, a pair of piercing blue eyes locking onto hers. They were filled with equal parts shock, fear, and gratitude. It broke Charlotte’s heart. Then, just as quickly, he lowered his gaze back to the floor.
“My lady,” Julian interrupted hesitantly, “with all due respect, that would not be proper.”
“What is improper,” Charlotte spat, beginning to lose her temper, “is that a man sent me a human pet as gift with no warning. Now here I am, completely unprepared and unequipped to accommodate him. He may sleep on the floor in my room, and that is final. I will not be locking my gift in the cellar. Are we clear?”
Julian sighed, then nodded once. “Yes, my lady.”
She turned her focus back to the man—her gift—and asked, “When was the last time you ate?”
Those blue eyes found hers once more, fearfully searching her face as though Charlotte’s question was some sort of trap. “I eat when I am permitted, Mistress.” His voice was soft and hoarse.
“Julian, have him given a proper meal immediately,” Charlotte instructed with a huff. “I would also like him bathed and given a fresh set of clothes. After that, you may bring him to my room.”
“Certainly,” Julian said.
Once she was left alone, Charlotte returned to her easel. She stared at it for several minutes, trying will her mind back into the space it entered when she was painting—contented and focused. But her stomach was still turning from what had just happened. Her hands trembled.
Charlotte grabbed the canvas and threw it across the room, knocking over a lamp with a loud crash.
#i might continue this who knows#whump#whumpblr#whump writing#reluctant whumper#pet whump#captive whumpee#carewhumper#caretaker new master#captivity#dehumanisation#original character#writing#requests open#snippet
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Whumper's title
[masterlist]
It was the end of a lazy evening. Caretaker stretched as the credits of the last movie rolled. Whumpee was draped across her lap and had apparently fallen asleep somewhere during the movie. She wasn’t sure if he even witnessed the climax. Even asleep Whumpee had a soft smile on his lips; he seemed truly at peace.
It hadn’t always been like that.
A year ago, serenity like this would have been unthinkable. Maybe he would have crawled into her lap if she ordered him to, but he wouldn’t have allowed himself to relax. He wouldn’t have been able to.
A year ago, he still called himself Pet or Mutt. He would beg for punishment, beg to be allowed necessities like sleep or food. But never for mercy because he’d thought he didn’t deserve it.
A year ago, Whumpee didn’t even remember they lived together for years prior.
But he did now, and that was all that mattered. God, how she had missed him and the time they spent together. Caretaker wanted to savor it all, savor every little moment she could spend with him.
With a smile playing on her lips, she brushed a stray piece of hair from his scarred face. She didn’t want to wake Whumpee up but she would have to. No matter how much she wanted it, they couldn’t spend the night like this. In the morning, his already aching back would trouble him even more. He was frankly too big for her couch, his feet already dangling over the side. With one hand she was playing with his soft curls, scratching the nape of his neck, and trying to grab the remote with the other – without success.
It had to be done. Caretaker softly whispered his name, tracing his jawline in an attempt to wake him up. He wouldn't budge.
“Whumpee”, the name came out as a soft chuckle. “Whumpee, you need to wake up.”
Again, nothing.
This time she held him by his shoulders and started shaking him gently. Two bleary brown eyes stared up at her, blinking a couple of times. A sleepy groan escaped his lips as he struggled to sit upright. Somehow Caretaker doubted that Whumpee was truly awake.
She stood up and held her hand out to him. “Let’s get you to bed, big guy.”
Loosely, he took her hands and let himself be pulled up, almost immediately resting his head on top of hers.
“Yes, Master”, he breathed into her hair.
Caretaker could feel her blood running cold. She froze, waiting for any indication of what happened, any sign that Whumpee wasn’t feeling well.
But he didn’t. He didn’t tense up or start shaking. He didn’t fall on his knees or stare at her in adoration and obedience or wait for her order. In fact, he didn’t seem to even realize what he’d said. Instead, he just nuzzled further into her locks, almost falling asleep on his feet.
Slowly, she took a step backward, his hands still in hers, waiting to see if he’d follow. Whumpee shuffled along, although at a snail’s pace. Caretaker didn’t know whether to bring up what had happened but one look in his half-lidded eyes told her that any attempt at communication would just pass by him. Chances were he wouldn’t even remember how he got to bed in the morning.
She took him upstairs where –at the sight of his own bed– he staggered forward and flopped down on his messy sheets. Caretaker followed him inside to tuck him in. While she was securing the blanket under his shoulders, Whumpee loosely grabbed one of her hands in his much bigger one and pressed it to his cheek.
“G’night…”, he murmured into her hand.
She couldn’t understand what he said after that and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.
This is very much inspired by this post by @whumpadventureprompts
(i couldn't find how you want to be tagged when people use your prompts so i hope this is alright)
#english isn't my first language so if you find any mistakes please tell me :)#this is beta-read by grammarly you can't fault me for anything :))#i've been wanting to write something for this prompt for ages! glad i finally had the time#Holding Up The Sky#atlas/mutt (oc)#aveline king (oc)#honey's writing#past pet whump#pet whumpee#pet whump#recovering whumpee#deconditioning#recovery#caretaker new whumper#caretaker new master#whumpee thinks caretaker is new master#conditioned whumpee#whumpee and caretaker#whumpee x caretaker#honestly this is mostly just fluff#big whumpee#comfort
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Pet whumpee who is so conditioned that they’re not all scared or sad or angry all the time. They’re happy too, they make jokes about some of the rules they have (they still try to follow each and everyone perfectly).
Bonus points if whumpee is with a sadistic whumper/ whumper who does not care about whumpee in the slightest and treats them as if they were worth less than dirt
Bonus Bonus points if caretaker is horrified of how happy whumpee is with their life
Bonus bonus bonus points if caretaker doesn’t know how bad whumpee’s life truly was until a big reveal and they’ve laughed at some of whumpee’s jokes about their rules/punishments
#conditioned whumpee#whump#box boy universe#whumpee#whumper#pet whump#sadistic whumper#caretaker#caretaker new master
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this is a disgustingly fluffy prompt so beware slfkdh
caretaker always calls whumpee a word in their (caretaker‘s) native language, which whumpee doesn’t understand. but since they are very self loathing they just assume it’s something negative, since caretaker has to spend so much time and energy caring for and „tolerating“ whumpee. one day whumpee gets too curious though and decides to look up the word, only to find out it’s a pet name and caretaker has been calling them something lovingly the entire time
(bonus points if you do it in your native language i love learning new cute pet names!!)
sorry to all hungarians i know seeing this will cause some whiplash
tw pet whump, past trauma, caretaker new master
‘Easy, szívem.’
‘Szívem, could you bring me some water?’
‘You don’t have to push yourself, szívem.’
Whumpee accepted the nickname as their own easily. Whumper had given them plenty, although never ones they couldn’t even understand; useless, stupid, mutt… who knew which one Caretaker was using on them?
They avoided asking about it for the longest time. They told themself they were prepared for the meaning, that they could handle whatever degrading thing their new master ‘friend’ threw at them, but in reality… They weren’t prepared at all. They didn’t want to know. They wanted to pretend it was something nice, a term of genuine endearment, dear, darling, honey… Something people said to each other with kindness.
But eventually, curiosity won out. Whumpee sneaked into the study one day, picking out one of the dictionaries from the shelf. They thought about using the computer, but they chickened out. It would’ve been a much more egregious crime than opening a book.
The issue was, they had no idea how to spell the word. They started at ‘S’, flipping through pages upon pages and finding nothing. See-vem. See-vem. None of the words looked right. They eventually crossed over into the next letter, ‘Sz’, unsure what sound that would even make. It was all so confusing… How did Caretaker even speak this?
“Can I help you?”
Whumpee flinched at the voice, slamming the dictionary shut immediately. “C-Caretaker– I– I wasn’t– I wasn’t doing anything! I was cleaning, and the book fell down, I was just trying to check whether it was intact–”
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” they said with a smile. “I’m not mad, szívem. But if you were looking for something specific in there, maybe I could help.”
“N-no, no, it’s… it’s nothing… I…” They took a deep breath, trying to ground themself. It was now or never, really. They wouldn’t get a better chance to ask. “Well… I, I was wondering about, um… The nickname, I guess. What you always call me.”
“Ah, of course. I’m sorry, I’ve never really explained it, have I? It’s just a term of endearment.” They pulled out their phone and typed something. “I’m pretty sure the dictionary only has the root word. Here.”
Whumpee took the phone gingerly, looking at the translation program. Original word, in Hungarian: szívem. Yeah, they would’ve never gotten that right. Translation, in English…
Their eyes widened in disbelief. Next to them, Caretaker chuckled. “What did you think it meant?” they asked cheerily, seemingly unaware of all the horrible options that had been swirling around in Whumpee’s head before.
“I… I don’t even know,” they breathed.
They definitely didn’t think it meant something as innocent as ‘my heart’.
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caretaker-new-master who just realized whumpee has been screaming internally this whole time.
#whump#whump ideas#whump prompts#pet whump#pet whumpee#caretaker new master#accidental whump#conditioned whumpee#whump community#slave whump
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A “whumpee thinks caretaker is new master” scenario/prompt:
Caretaker has been teaching Whumpee that they don’t have to apologize for every single harmless thing they do and they make some progress. What happens when Whumpee does something that is not harmless and that has bad consequences? Like saying something that hurts Caretaker or a friend, or purposely breaking something in a moment of defiance, or a superpowered or monster Whumpee actually hurts someone. Do they understand the difference, at this point of their recovery? Do they think Caretaker won’t be gentle to them anymore, starting with demanding apologies? Do they immediately go back to their older mentality, undoing all the progress they made?
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caretaker stumbling upon a big, scarred pet whumpee in a shelter. although intimidating at first sight, this whumpee was actually severely abused by their previous owner, and are extremely meek and frightened as a result.
an employee lets caretaker into whumpee's kennel so they can interact with them before they make their decision. after a few minutes of gently soothing whumpee and convincing them they aren't a threat, whumpee settles into caretaker's lap, giving a contented sigh as caretaker's fingers softly thread through their hair, and caretaker knows they just have to bring them home.
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"Poor Master"
Masterpost:
Master was very poor.
It was a secret the two of them shared, for neither liked to mention it. Master was making the best of a bad situation, and the last thing it wanted was to make that harder. Still it was a pity, and Pet was making sure to make it as easy as possible so Master would not find anything lacking, regardless.
Still, it was a harsh change to get used to. Master couldn’t afford chains: the only restraint available in the household was a large, soft piece of fabric Master would wrap around it on occasion, especially during the evenings. Whenever this happened, Pet would make sure to stay extra still, so it wouldn’t fall off. This was because Master didn’t seem to know how to tie any knots, but that was O.K. Pet didn’t need them to be restrained, to hold still. It already knew what Master was asking of it.
A harder adjustment for Pet to make was its lack of a room. Master’s house was too small to hold an attic or a cellar, and every closet needed to be stuffed with clothes and boxes, no room for it. There was no cage either, no hooks on the wall to attach leashes, not even so much as a simple collar. Instead, Pet was left to sleep on the couch, where it was high up and isolated, but not hard or cold enough to enforce any real discipline. It had tried to remedy this the first few days by sleeping on the floor, but Master hadn’t liked that. Of course, of course, it should have known. It should have known better than to assume it knew more or knew better than Master. Poor Master was probably ashamed that this was the best he could offer, and Pet’s job was to ease those fears. Because it was enough, anything they had was enough for it; there was no other choice.
Mealtimes where also a point of pity. Master had only the means to cook one meal, and both he and Pet ate the same fare. That made sense; Previous Master had always complained about how expensive pet food was getting, and as such its rations were always cut severely. If Pet could have opinions…it liked this way better. This way they both had enough to eat, and all Master had to give up was his pride. That was…less good. Pet didn’t like the idea of Master having to give up anything, especially not for the sake of it.
But Master had lived this way long enough to not seem to care; nothing phased him. He would smile and laugh as he ate, and hum while he cooked. He didn’t seem to care that he didn’t have the right tools to properly house a pet. Pet tried not to care either.
But sometimes, it was just so hard! No whips, no canes, no shock collars… And anything that did lie around the house like broom handles or belts were so few and far between that it was probably not worth it to get its filthy blood on them and have to wash it off later. Master didn’t have the right gloves to hit it with either, and any discipline used was only a stern tone of voice. Sometimes Pet wondered if that was truly enough. Was Master happy, only being able to punish it like that? Compared to everything else Master could do to it if he had the right funds, it seemed very boring. But that was only Pet’s thoughts, and it already knew that its thoughts were worth less than Pet itself. Master was poor, that was it. Too poor to afford rage, or hate, or harshness. Probably because if Pet got hurt, it would be too expensive to replace.
But still, late at night, when Pet couldn’t sleep, it would try to understand Master, even though such thinking was probably too hard for it. Still it tried. Because there was one thing that didn’t make sense, no matter how hard it pondered.
…If Master was so poor, why didn’t it sell off Pet to make more money?
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