#whumpee knows new master is whumper

[distinctlywhumpthing]

In League — Dead Ringer, part I

Masterlist

Summary: August's first day with the new holder of his indenture —his new master— is not a resounding success. (Takes place two years before August meets Wyatt.) Beta-read by @alittlewhump!

CW: Late-19th century, explicit language, indentured servitude, classism, dehumanization/degradation, intimate/creepy whumper, burn.

A beam of sunlight slanted through the break in the curtains to fall squarely across his eyes. He tried not to squint to see his new employer or, rather, the new holder of his indenture. Why the drapes were drawn in the middle of the day was beyond him. Unless the intention was to make the study feel suffocating and shadowed. 

“Say that one more time.” 

August recognised the dare within the order. He swallowed, heart hammering in his chest in spite of himself. “I’m sorry, master. I don’t have it.” 

Master Keats hummed in mock sympathy. “And after all that rigamarole about your capabilities.” His silhouette plucked a cigar from the shadow of a desktop and took a few puffs until smoke further enshrouded his face. “How utterly useless literacy is when unaccompanied by intelligence. As is typical for servants.” 

“Please, sir,” he struggled to keep his voice level, frustration crashing through him in waves. “I only—

“I trust they disciplined mistakes at Elmwood?”

He clenched his teeth. “Yessir.” August couldn’t be certain if his master was watching him or simply sitting there smoking. His first day was getting worse by the second. From the ill-fitting uniform to his ill-fated first errand, he wasn’t sure if he’d have an ass left to land on by the time he was thrown out on it. 

By the time Master Keats rose out of his chair, August’s palms had really begun to sweat. He didn’t risk even a flutter of his fingers at his sides as he stood at attention. Keats sauntered around the desk, low-hanging smoke cloud trailing with him. When he reached the other side, a few paces in front of August, he leaned back against it, crossing his ankles and straightening his waistcoat. “What was it then?”

“Bed without supper, sir.”

“And for something such as this? For losing a priceless family heirloom worth more than your life twice over?” August wondered what was on the other end of the pocket watch chain crossing his master’s waist if it wasn’t the item in question. 

He cleared his throat. “Probably the cane, sir.” 

Master Keats twisted around to ash his cigar. “Probably? Are you implying that your service record was so clean? Or were you shown favour by that knotty old butler?” 

“The former, sir.” The latter was also true though he did not wish to give Keats any further ammunition.

“Well, unfortunately, it seems your luck hasn’t followed you here.” August could hear the amusement in the statement though he still couldn’t read the accompanying expression. The light shone in from just above Keats’ head, casting his face entirely in shadow behind the looming cloud of smoke.

He swallowed his defense. His shame and frustration were rising to a steady boil. It wasn’t exactly his fault that the watchmaker had apparently surrendered the watch to someone else claiming to represent Keats. August had only been a quarter an hour late anyway, despite following the written directions to the letter. It wasn’t like he’d lost the watch personally. In fact, August’s questioning had been surprisingly short-lived. Though perhaps someone was already going to corroborate his story with the jeweler to make sure he hadn’t indeed picked up the watch and simply stashed it for later. 

“I won’t pretend this isn’t a disappointment,” Keats said, finally stepping forward enough so that he blocked the light.

Not much of a relief for August’s clarity of sight. He couldn’t see jack all in the shade after staring into the sun. He blinked quickly, trying to get his eyes to adjust faster.

Keats took another step forward, close enough that August had to keep himself from taking a step back to maintain civilized personal space. His master reeked of the cigar, earthy and sweet, and his spicy cologne, all overlaying the smell of sweat. August took advantage of the closeness for the chance to curl his fingers into fists. This was all a game, meant to shame and intimidate him, and he’d be damned if he’d rise to the bait.

His master reached out to straighten August’s bowtie, thumbing the fabric. “You seemed so promising…”

“Sir, please. I do beg your pardon. It won’t happen again.” 

“Well, now—” Keats hooked his forefinger over August’s bowtie, not pulling him anywhere but letting August feel the weight of his hand on the fabric circling his neck. “How do you suggest we make certain of it.” 

It went against his every instinct not to twist away. “Sir?”

“I could have them give you the cane.” 

August swallowed, his Adam’s apple running into Keats’ knuckle. “You’ll know best, sir.” 

“I should fucking think so.” Keats eyes raked over his face. They were beady and dark and August already despised having them on him. He hadn’t been naive enough to hold out hope that his new master might be some shade of kind but he had tried to be optimistic. Clearly, even that had been a folly. “Growing up in the workhouse, I’m sure you know how to take it well.” 

His fists trembled at his sides. More from anger than fear, he told himself. “Yessir.”

Keats held him a moment longer before releasing him with a little push so he had to catch himself on his back foot. “Something more novel might suit you better.”

“I—” 

“Perhaps some time to think.” August didn’t like the look of the glint in his eyes one bit. He was practically twirling his mustache, though August would have wagered it didn’t move much with so much wax in it. “I’ll think on it, you can think on it. A week in the attic ought to be sufficient, even for you.” 

August’s heart stuttered in his chest. He hadn’t been shown the whole house yet, had no idea what ‘a week in the attic’ would entail. “Sir—”

“Now, show me your gratitude for sparing you the cane by saving me having to cross the room to the ashtray.” Keats took a final pull from the cigar, enshrouding them both with its heavy smoke before holding it between them. 

“Yessir.” August reached to take it. 

He pulled the cigar back, tutting his tongue. August met his eyes and knew instantly what Keats meant to do. He hesitated, just long enough to regret giving Keats the satisfaction of asking, “Something the matter?”

“No, sir,” he said through clenched teeth, holding out his right hand. He didn’t dare try to abscond by putting forth his left.  

 Keats took another drag from the cigar so the end bloomed orange before he planted it in the centre of August’s palm. August lifted his chin a fraction, keeping his hand steady. He raised his hand in equal force to Keats bearing down on it. He wanted Keats to feel his efforts, though they didn’t stand for much. Not with tears pooling in his eyes until they spilled over, ruining the effect and bringing a smirk to his master’s face. 

His palm kept burning even after he was sure the cigar was out. Keats gave it one final twist before releasing his grasp and letting it fall into August’s hand. “Give me your thanks then.” August wanted to give him something all right but he knew he would never get that far. Keats was above him on all accounts. “Thank you ever so much, sir.”

Next

@whumpy-writings @writer-reader-24 @deluxewhump @no-whump-on-main   @maracujatangerine  @whumptakesthecake  @painsandconfusion @wolfeyedwitch @briars7 @gala1981 @redwingedwhump @whumpflash @peachy-panic @hold-him-down @poeticagony @annablogsposts

[whumpingandsmilinglikeanidiot]

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,

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

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. 

[cepheusgalaxy]

We all love the "whumpee thinks caretaker is their new master" trope, right? Let's go a little further

Whumpee is whumper's pet. We know this

Whumper also has this friend, Whumper 2

Whumper really wants to impress their friend, or whatever, so they give whumpee to whumper 2

Whumpee is prepared beforehand. Whumper dress them up; They tell them to obey whumper 2. Tell them that they'll be their new master.

While that, Caretaker and Team find this out. Whumpee will be transported from Whumper's to Whumper 2's house

It's the perfect chance for rescuing them.

Ok, now, for the aesthetic, maybe whumpee is in a truck. No windows. No sounds. Whumpee is locked inside during the way, they're only allowed to move or get out once they reach their destiny

The team works fast

They capture the truck and manage to drive it to their base

While that, whumpee is bracing themselves for the terror they know whumper 2 will be.

Imagine the scene when the team unlock whumpee on the truck, and they are obedient, terrifird, they think Caretaker is whumper 2

They do not manage to think they're finally free

[martyr-inthedark]

Favorite Food

Tw: food whump, aftermath of torture, unreliable narrator, unreality

"Whumpee, what is your favorite food?"

Whumpee's eyes snapped to look up towards Whumper (not at him, never to look at him).

"S-sorry, sir?" It's best to ask for clarification than to do anything too soon. It was a lesson that caused Whumpee to chip a few too many teeth. Their heart pounded in their ears. It's been so long since they've heard their own name.

"I said," Whumper's fingers tapped the table he was sitting at, and his nose crinkled, "Whumpee, what is your favorite food?"

Dread swelled in Whumpee's chest. There was a right answer, surely. They took a breath, a whimper escaping their throat. Did they really have a say? Was this just another trick? A test Whumpee was doomed to fail? There were two options. They could be honest, and risk Whumper ruining another part of their identity. Or, they could lie, and Whumper could punish them for lying (he knew every time, the bastard-).

"Everything okay?" An intense blush filled Whumpee's pale face. Shit. Shit, they took too long. There was a right answer to this riddle. There had to be.

"Sorry, my lord. I am only deserving of what you give me," Whumpee finally choked out. They did not see but rather felt Whumper's eyes fall on their face for the first time all day. They could do nothing under his gaze except tremble on their knees and silently pray for mercy. They sat listening to the gentle 'hmph' from their master.

Whumpee flinched when Whumper stroked their hair, their first sign of affection in a long time. Whumpee wilted into their hand as cold finger tips traced down the side of their head, pushing hair behind their ear, falling down their cheek and finally landing under their chin. Whumpee's lip trembled as their gaze was directed to Whumper's fierce expression.

"Oh, my poor doll," Whumper tsked. Whumpee's new tears followed the same route Whumper's fingers did just moments before. "Whumpee, what is your favorite food?"

"I'm sorry," Whumpee started, mostly to soothe the risk that Whumper was getting frustrated with them, but also to buy themselves a moment to think. They had not thought of their favorite food in so long, after realizing that going home was not an option (anything to ease the pain of loss). Thinking back to a time that felt far away, it came to them, what they missed most. "I'm s-my apologies, sir. Um. I really love... it's hard to pick. Potato soup, or really any soup. Mostly potatoes. Sir."

"That's really interesting." Whumper let go of their chin and their eyes finally fell to their rightful place on the floor.

"Sorry," Whumpee whispered, falling quiet once more. They braced themselves for a bitter insult, a smack on the back of the head, anything, and nothing ever came. They continued to silently cry. What was Whumper going to do? They answered the question. Was it right? The not-knowing was killing them. How could they be good for Master if they didn't know what he wanted?

...

Evening rolled around and Whumper beckoned Whumpee to sit at the table. Dinner had been set, and Whumpee sank into their seat, not wishing to further annoy their master. It wasn't unusual for Whumper to want Whumpee to sit with them. However, it was rare that they had a plate or bowl, and the conversation from earlier still haunted their day. Whumper gestured, and Whumpee lifted the cover off their meal, and—

Potato soup.

Slack-jawed and wide-eyed they dared to look up at Whumper. This wasn't for them, it couldn't be. Whumper had already started eating, and though he had his mouth full, he commanded Whumpee to eat. Tears swelled in their eyes and they shook their head. They weren't supposed to eat until Master was done.

"Whumpee," Whumper warned.

Whumpee flinched. Whumper's chair scraped against the floor as he stood up. Whumpee shuttered at every slow step toward them. Finally, Whumper crouched down below Whumpee, taking their quivering hands.

"Look at me, sweetheart," Whumper said, gently stroking Whumpee's forearm. Whumpee sniffled and did as asked. Whumpee, for the first time all day, saw Caretaker's loving and concerned eyes. "The soup is for you, Whumpee. Just for you. You can eat it, or not eat it. Whenever you want. If you want to wait for me to leave, that is okay. If you want to eat it now, that is okay, too. Your decision is safe here, okay?"

Whumpee nodded, and wept. And they wept hard. No sniffles. No simple tears. They properly wept as Whumper-no-Caretaker pulled their starving frame into a hug.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"I'm so sorry, Caretaker." All Whumpee could do was breathe out the words between sobs. They never felt more broken, more irreparable, than right there in the reality of Caretaker's arms.

"I know, doll, I know. You don't have to be."

"I thought—I must be an awful person—I thought you were him."

"You're okay. You're not in trouble. I'm glad you see me, now. I'm glad you're here."

Whumpee felt sick of themselves. They wished for a day they could wake up in the morning and feel whole. They wished for a day they weren't afraid of blinking wrong. They wished for a day where they could just eat their favorite food and it not be cold from waiting on them to get over their meltdown.

[mypoorocs]

Thinking about a first time Whumper x veteran Whumpee...

When they first meet:

"You don't seem nearly scared enough. This isn't your first time is it?" "You seem weirdly nervous. Is it yours?"

"Ugh! Out of everyone in the city I could kidnap I had to get stuck with someone else's leftovers!"

"You used to belong to so-and-so, didn't you? Ah! They're my idol! Oh! This is exciting. I get to study their masterpiece up close!"

"WHY AREN'T YOU SCARED OF ME?!!!"

"Oh. You've never done this before." "Stop judging me. I have a knife."

"How is it you know exactly what I like?" "You torturers are all the same." "You've done this before??"

"I won't kill you, but I need you to cooperate. I am new to this, just so you know." "Yup. I'm going to die."

"Mmmm, I love how you move when you're in pain." "Thanks! I've been practicing for years."

"Who taught you to scream like this?"

Whumpee helping Whumper figure out the basics:

"Why are you on your knees?" "Oh sorry. Do you not like that? The last guy liked me that way. I just assumed…" "No, no. It's a good idea. Keep doing that. I just… never thought of it."

"So, what are the rules?" "Rules?" "Yeah, dumbass. Your rules for me. Do you want me to call you sir? Master? Or can I keep calling you jackass?"

"Do you want me to put up a fight or should we skip straight to the submissive stage?" "Oh... uhhh... don't fight too much. I don't trust myself not to accidentally kill you." "Oh, yeah. Good point."

"What kind of scream do you like?" "There are kinds of screams?" "Yeah. The last guy liked it when I ugly-cried. But I'm pretty good a bloodcurdling and whimpering like a kicked puppy. I can try to stay quiet but I can't make promises there..." "Hmmm... try all of them. I'll tell you which I like best."

"You cleaned??" "Yeah? Was I not supposed to?" "I didn't know you could make captives do that?!" "For the record, I didn't do it because I'm scared of you - your arm gets tired after giving me like three lashes. I did it because I'm going to be spending a lot of time bleeding on this table and I doubt it occurred to you to disinfect it."

Whumpee teaching Whumper how to whump:

"Show me what they used to do to you."

Whumper studying the scars on Whumpees body to learn the best places to cut/stab.

"Oh no! A knife? How original!" /s

"If you stab me right there you'll kill me. You have to go one inch to the right. Yeah, right there-AHHHHHH! …yup. Right there."

"I'll make you a deal. Let me have a solid eight hours of sleep and I'll show you where to pinch the nerve that will paralyze my left arm."

"You can't leave me tied up like this!" "I can do what I want!" "Yes. Okay. True. But like, you've either got to tie my knees to my chest or let my feet touch the ground. Otherwise I'm going to asphyxiate."

Whumper having an inferiority complex:

"I CAN DO ANYTHING THEY COULD DAMMIT!" (They = Whumpee's former Whumper)

"WHUMPEE! YOU'RE NOT BETTER THAN ME!" *Whumpee trying not to laugh when Whumper fucks up something really basic.*

"You must think I'm so pathetic." "NOo! Of course not! You're doing amazing! Really you are! I'm so fucking scared of you right now. I promise."

"I'll never be as good as the person who hurt you before." "You'll get there! I promise. I was like his fifth victim - I'm your first. Be kind to yourself!"

"How the fuck did your former Whumper do it?" "Yeah... you're not getting that out of me..."

Whumper being paranoid that Whumpee is manipulating them. Even though they hold the power they feel like Whumpee has more control over the situation because they know more.

Also...

Whumpee knowing just how to manage Whumper. They instinctively know when to be a little defiant and when to do exactly as they are told. They know just the right tone of voice to speak in, and just how to move, scream, to keep Whumper as pleased as possible. The sooner Whumper is satisfied the sooner it will stop.

Whumpee pretending it hurts worse than it does, lying about which places/tortures hurt most, acting more sick or tired than they really are to get rest/food, acting more scared than they really are… It's not like Whumper could know better.

[whumped-by-glitter]

Okay, hear me out....

A caretaker with an extremely conditioned whumpee.

Caretaker is forced to "speak their language" to get through to whumpee. Caretaker has to start acting like Whumper to slowly undo the conditioning.

They have to start harsh and strict to slowly teach Whumpee what freedom is, or reintroduce them into their own agency.

Maybe Whumpee was a slave or a pet, and all they know are orders and discipline and reward. Before Caretaker figures this out, Whumpee is listless or catatonic, or maybe self-destructive and reckless. Without order and routine, Whumpee has no idea how to function, their mind is sent into chaos.

Caretaker has no interest in being a master, but to get through the conditioning, to even get them medical help, they are forced to get their hands dirty.... Orders are just necessary- "you're going to the hospital, that's an order" or "I order you to decide on what you want for dinner."

Caretaker never wanted this power and responsibility over another person.

With power, there is also the risk of corruption.

Maybe Caretaker is terrified about walking the fine line between helping their severely damaged and twisted whumpee and becoming the new whumper.

Maybe they get it right, maybe they get it wrong, maybe it's something in between, there's so many directions this could go and all of the threads are so interesting.

[mj-iza-writer]

Whumpee kneeled off to the side of Whumper's feet, listening to their conversation on the phone. Whumper didn't seem to happy when they hung up.

Whumpee silently groaned. Hoping and praying they could just disappear, or Whumper would forget about them until they cooled down.

"Don't move, stay quiet", they told themself, "don't be noticed."

"Pet", Whumper sighed.

"Shit!", Whumpee yelled inwardly.

"Pet come here", Whumper laid down on the couch and snapped their finger.

Whumpee crawled to Whumper's hand and waited for the next command.

Whumper patted Whumpee's head, which came as a surprise to Whumpee. They were completely ready to get slapped or something.

"Jump up here and lay on top of me", Whumper commanded, "I need some deep pressure, that conversation upset me."

Whumpee climbed on top of Whumper. This was a new command, and Whumpee was terrified, not knowing where this was going.

"Ok, go ahead and lay on top of me. Your head can go on my chest, yep just like that", Whumper patted their head again.

Whumpee could feel themselves shaking in fear. They were lying on top of Whumper, and their head was resting on their chest.

"No need to be nervous. You're not in trouble", Whumper sighed, "I need some deep pressure. My weighted blanket is not heavy enough for what I need, so you are going to help me with that. Am I clear?"

"Yes master", Whumpee whispered trying to calm the shaking.

Whumper started to run their fingers through Whumpee's hair, and scratch and massage their scalp and neck. They even went as far as to massage and scratch under the collar.

Whumpee didn't want to admit it, but they would stay there forever if Whumper would keep doing this.

Whumper started to rub Whumpee's ears. They laughed a little when Whumpee moaned during the ear massage.

"I guess I know how to get you to melt into my hands", Whumper glanced down as they rubbed Whumpee's ears, "are you enjoying yourself?"

"Y-yes master", Whumpee sighed, "thankyou for your kindness and mercy."

"I've been thinking about doing this for a while, sometimes that blanket isn't enough", Whumper looked down again, "this is actually helping."

Whumpee relaxed their body.

"Oh yes this is definitely helping", Whumper smiled, "I guess you have a new use pet, weighted blanket 2.0."

Whumper started to get heavy eyed, as did Whumpee. Whumper's hand stilled while scratching under Whumpee's collar, so their fingers held onto it. Whumpee rested their cheek against Whumpers chest, and dozed off.

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 @idontreallyexistyet @thebejeweledwatercat @painfulplots @whumpbump @everythingsscary

[whumpshaped]

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’.

[whumplump]

part 1

part 2

Whumpee would take the eggs out of the mold as gently as possible and place them in the refrigerator as if they were made of crystal. They were being as careful as possible, so they were taking their time, and they were afraid that Whumper would complain about the delay, but the punishment for breaking the eggs would be worse than the punishment for taking too long on a task.

The doorbell rang lazily. Whumper was on the couch, working on the computer, and didn't bother to tell the housekeeper. Whumpee set the eggs aside and got ready to open the door. They were greeted by a person who seemed to have visited the house before. The person had a bag on their shoulder and had the kindest face Whumpee had ever seen in their life.

"Good afternoon, how are you? I'm Caretaker, is Whumper home?" the stranger greeted, offering their hand.

Whumpee responded, but their throat was raw and their voice was inaudible. The visitor asked them to repeat it. Whumpee smoothed their throat and tried again.

"...They are in the living room..."

"Can you let them know I'm here, please?"

Whumpee raised their hand, asking for a moment. They walked into the living room and stood next to Whumper.

"What do you want?" the owner said, dejectedly.

"There's someone at the door, wanting to talk to you... They said their name is Caretaker..."

Whumper lowered the computer screen and got up from the couch in a bad mood. Whumpee returned to their previous duties while Whumper welcomed Caretaker into the house. The two seemed like old friends.

“Whumpee, make Caretaker some coffee" Whumper said amidst laughter.

Caretaker furrowed their eyebrows, a little uncomfortable with the way Whumper spoke.

“Ah, no need, I'm fine, thank you—"

“I insist," Whumper interrupted. They turned to Whumpee. "Now," they said in a firmer tone, like a threat.

“Y-Yes sir," Whumpee responded promptly.

After making coffee, Whumpee returned to their previous activity without looking back. They noticed a slightly sad look in Caretaker's eyes as the guest accepted the cup.

Whumpee continued tidying the kitchen and pre-preparing rice for dinner, while they watched the other two in the living room, talking, chuckling. Apparently, Caretaker was a good friend of Whumper who just returned from a long trip. Whumpee confirmed this in their own head when Caretaker took out some items from their bag and showed them to Whumper.

They were distracted, not paying attention to Whumpee in the corner.

'At least I won't have to worry about any complaints for now…'

Whumper's voice coming from the room made them think otherwise immediately.

"Whumpee, my coffee is too bitter. Make another one, with more sugar, now.”

Whumpee rescued Whumper's coffee mug, made new coffee, adding a few extra spoons of sugar, and handed the new drink to the master.

Whumper didn't look pleased. They asked for another. This misfortune was repeated three more times, until Whumper gave up.

"You're no good at all. Not even for making a cup of coffee. Nevermind, I don't feel like it anymore," they said, putting the mug aside.

Caretaker felt bad about that attitude. Why the hell was Whumper treating the other like that?

“My coffee was great, thank you very much," they said to Whumpee, a little awkwardly, trying to ease the tense atmosphere.

Caretaker spent the whole afternoon at the house. Whumpee did all the chores while enviously listening to the conversations between the two friends.

As night fell, Caretaker had to say goodbye. Whumper continued to treat Whumpee with contempt, and ordered them to take their friend to the door.

Before leaving, Caretaker took a look at Whumpee. They had sweet eyes and a worried expression.

“Why do they treat you like that?" They asked quietly.

Whumpee didn't answer the question. They just hurried to close the door. Before they did, they said, almost inaudible, in a voice full of pain:

“Please save me…”

[justbreakonme]

I love super strong/jacked caretakers with weak or tiny whumpees, especially with the Whumpee-thinks-caretaker-is-their-new-master trope.

The whole “I just have to pray that they mean it when they say they’re not going to hurt me because it would be so easy for them”

“They could kill me without even trying.”

“They’re only being so merciful because they know I’m too weak to fight back so they don’t need to waste their time…”

And of course the caretaker-uses-their-strength-for-good and beats whumpers ass, and suddenly whumpee realizing that, yes, caretaker was a formidable master, but…a protective one too.

[a-living-canvas]

Blurry pictures

Whumper was…oddly kind, today. Whumpee overslept and they just…smiled at them. No hint of anger or annoyance. Maybe it's a reward for Whumpee after all the suffering they endured? Or maybe—

"Ah! S-sorry, Master! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Whumpee pleaded as they were cleaning up their mess. The coffee stained on Whumper's shirt usually would have resulted in Whumpee being whipped on their back by now. But, Whumper said nothing. They just smiled again. "It's okay, dear. No need to worry about it."

Whumper said as they stood up and walked to their room to change to a new clothes. Whumpee immediately made another coffee for Whumper. They got a head pat and compliment from Whumper after that.

That's…weird. 

Whumper never being this affectionate before. What have gotten into them?

"Pet?"

Whumpee hurriedly knelt down in front of Whumper who was sitting on the couch. "Yes…Master?"

Whumper caressed the side of Whumpee's face. "Let's clean those wounds now, shall we?" Whumpee's eyes lit up at the suggestion. How they were desperately needed for their wounds and scars to be covered by bandages.

"Y-yes! Please, Master…"

They both sat still in silence for a long moment, as if they were waiting for something. Whumpee raised their eyebrows in confusion. Whumper sighed before they chuckled dryly. 

"Okay, let me grab the First aid kit…"

Whumper stood up from their seat and took the emergency kit before coming back to the couch. They gritted their teeth at the sight of Whumpee not on their knees anymore but on the couch instead.They sat beside Whumpee and started treating the wounds. 

Whumper's hands and movement strangely gentle today, not rough like always. They seemed to take extra precaution to make sure Whumpee felt comfortable and good at the moment. 

"Eyes on the ground, Whumpee." Whumper said lightly. They weren't mad or anything, just reminding Whumpee to shift their gaze somewhere else instead of looking at them. Whumpee bowed their head in embarrassment for being caught staring.

"S-sorry, Master…" 

Whumper hummed. "It's okay, don't do that again." I'll make sure you don't do that again.

Whumpee nodded instantly. Whumper was being awfully calm and they were silently grateful for that. After finally treating Whumpee's wounds, Whumper pulled Whumpee to lay on the couch with them. Whumper was hugging Whumpee from behind, their chin resting on Whumpee's shoulder. Silence enveloping them as the only sound of Whumper's soft breath filling the room.

"T-thank you for treating my wounds, Master…" Whumpee said, a little uncomfortable being embraced so tightly by Whumper. Their back pressed against their chest.

Whumper kissed the side of Whumpee's head. "You are welcome, dear. Now, just rest with me. Okay? Let those little muscles loosen up."

Whumpee nodded. As they were cuddling for almost five minutes, Whumper's hand grazed lightly on Whumpee's wounds. Not enough to make them scream, but enough to make them feel the pain. Whumpee let out a soft whimper at the feeling of their wounds being caressed.

Their elbow suddenly jerked up to the back, hitting Whumper's ribs as Whumper accidentally pressed their fingers a little too hard on the wound. 

"M-master, I'm sorry! I'm sorry…!"

Whumper grunted in pain slightly before forcing a chuckle, "No…no, it's okay." Whumper tightened their hold on Whumpee. "It's okay, dear…"

Whumpee nodded, accepting the gentle fingers that running through their hair. 

-

Whumpee was cleaning the bedroom when they noticed Whumper in a doorway, leaning slightly as they looked at them. Whumper smiled,

"Stop cleaning. You need to have a shower, now."

Whumper said as they grabbed Whumpee's wrist and led them to the bathroom. Whumpee obediently followed from behind. It's been a long time since they last showered. The thought of the water running down their skin made them feel a little giddy.

As they entered the bathroom, Whumper filled the bathtub with water. "You know the procedure." Whumper said. Whumpee obeyed and hopped in the water. They sighed softly as the warm sensation travelled across their skin.

Whumper started working on their hair, massaging the scalp with the shampoo.They both sat in silence before Whumper suddenly asked a question,

"Whumpee, do you remember how you spilled the coffee on my shirt this morning? And how it's my favourite shirt and the coffee was burning my skin? Do you know it's my favourite shirt?"

Whumpee froze. "W-why do you ask me this, Master…?"

Whumper shrugged, "Hmm, just wondering if you knew that all along and just wanted to piss me off." Whumpee's hands started trembling. They trusted the soft fingers that were massaging their scalp to not hurt them at any moment after this.

"I….I didn't know, Master…" 

"Really? You didn't know?"

"Y-yes, I didn't—"

Whumper grabbed the back of Whumpee's head and shoved them into the water. They let out a muffled scream through the water as their hands were gripping on the edge of the bathtub. The moment Whumper pulled them back to the surface, Whumpee was gasping for air. 

They let out a yelp when Whumper grabbed a fistful of their hair and brought their face to them.

"That's for staining my shirt. Do you like it?"

"I-I…N-no—"

Whumper tightened their grasp. "I asked you, do you like it?"

Whumpee swallowed hard, they were on the verge of crying. "I-I like it, Master…" they sighed softly the moment Whumper let go of their hair and walked to the drawer. Whumpee sat still on the bathtub, their knees pressed close to their chest. 

Whumper stood behind them again, this time with something in their hand. Whumpee thought it was a loofah at first but as soon as it made contact with Whumpee's skin, they flinched before a loud scream could be heard inside the bathroom.

Whumper wrapped their fingers around Whumpee's neck tightly from behind, preventing them from moving as they washed their back with a wire dish scrubber. The soap, however, couldn't spread as much as loofah would on their skin leaving Whumpee writhed in pain. 

"M-master, stop! Please…please!" 

"Do you remember how you waited for me to bring the First aid kit for you?" Whumper scrubbed harder. "Who do you think you are, fool?"

"I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"And when you casually sat on the couch without my permission, you should be on your knees all the time, you know that?"

The wire brush was ripping their skin violently. Blood was dripping everywhere, making the water in the bathtub turning red. Whumpee let out a much louder scream upon seeing it, they were in so much pain but they knew Whumper wouldn't stop anytime soon.

As a matter of fact, Whumper started scrubbing on their scalp. Rough and scratchy, until the wire brush was covered with blood instead of body wash. Whumpee's legs were kicking under the water as they became a sobbing mess.

"I put up with you, today! Forcing out a smile even though I felt annoyed with you. Do you know how hard it was? To put up with an unlovable and annoying thing like you."

Whumper pulled Whumpee out of the bathtub with just holding their neck before they let them fell to the floor. Whumper washed Whumpee's bloody form with clean water. The open wounds stung badly on their skin.

"Did you learn your lesson, pet?" Whumper asked in a threatening voice.

"Y-yes, Master…" 

"Now, thank me for this. Thank me for giving you a lesson, so you will stop making another mistake in the future."

Whumpee swallowed hard, they sniffled a little. They wanted to run, anywhere but here. They just couldn't stand it anymore. It was all too much for them. With a heavy heart, they said,

"T-thank you, Master…"

[whump-or-whatever]

Defiant whumpee who copes with (dark) humour dialogue

• • •

Whumpee: *standing in line for the teller at the bank*

Whumper: *walks in wearing a ski mask and waving a gun* “This is a robbery!”

Whumpee: *very matter-o-factly* “Actually, sir, this is a bank.”

• • •

Whumpee: *being held at gun point as hostage*

Whumper: “I’ll do it! I’ll shoot them!”

Whumpee: “do it, no balls”

• • •

Whumpee: *in captivity, being interrogated*

Whumper: “If you don’t tell me what I want to know, you’ll get the whip again”

Whumpee: *eyes wide* “You can’t! My cellmate and I were using the grid to play connect 4 and I was winning!”

• • •

Whumper: *throws a wet rag at whumpee after torturing them* “Clean yourself up.”

Whumpee: *gasps, whispers* “Master has given Dobby a cloth.”

• • •

Whumper: “I’m going to enjoy torturing you until you scream. I can’t wait to see you broken and hear you begging me for mercy.”

Whumpee: “Seems to me like you’ve got some deep-seated emotional issues. Have you considered seeking professional help?”

• • •

Whumper: *walks in later than usual*

Whumpee: “You know, if the teacher is 15 minutes late to class you’re free to go. I think the same rule should apply here.”

• • •

Whumper: *laughs evilly at whumpee’s pain*

Whumpee: *mocks their laughter*

• • •

Whumper: “Nobody is ever going to come for you.”

Whumpee: “I bet that’s what your ex said when they dumped you.”

• • •

Whumpee: *is given plain bread to eat*

Whumpee: “Would it kill y’all to invest in some peanut butter? Mayonnaise? Anything?”

• • •

Whumper: “You’re worthless. Nobody loves you and nobody ever will.”

Whumpee: “In other news, water is wet.”

• • •

Whumper: “You look so nice covered in your own blood.”

Whumpee: “I bet I’d look even better covered in yours. Let’s try and see.”

• • •

Whumpee: *being moved with other prisoners, singing quietly* “They’re taking the hobbits to Isengard.”

Other prisoners: *chanting softly* “To Isengard, to Isengard.”

Whumper: *shakes their head incredulously*

• • •

Whumper: “I will find you.”

Whumpee: “Oh, wait! I know this one! And when you do, you’ll kill me, right?”

• • •

Whumper: “Tell me what I want to know!”

Whumpee: *sing-songy* “Gimme gimme never gets, don’t you know your manners yet?”

• • •

Whumper: *goes to stab whumpee*

Whumpee: *dodges and grabs the knife from whumper*

Whumpee: “That’s what I like to call a pro gamer move.”

• • •

Feel free to add your own!

[3-2-whump]

Tear-Filled Noncon (Mutual!)

it's a working title, I'm bad with titles

Continuation of this idea

Art here

TW/CW: because this is a continuation of the previous noncon idea, a lot of the same warnings will apply. Rape/Noncon, intimate whumper, obsessed whumper, domestic violence (including brief head trauma), some degradation, inner thoughts that go a bit dark. If I missed anything, pls let me know!

He turned the key slowly in the lock, opened the door as quietly as he could, and closed it equally as carefully behind him. Whumpee’s eyes swept over the living room. The apartment was quiet and dark, dimly illuminated only by the city lights in the window. More importantly, the door to the master bedroom was closed, with no light peeking out from underneath. Whumpee sighed in relief; he’d gotten away with it.

The next breath caught in his throat as he was body-slammed into the door. A large hand pinned both wrists above his head when he tried to defend himself from the unseen force. The other hand yanked his head back by his hair, eliciting a surprised yelp of pain. “Where were you?” a warm breath hissed in his ear.

Whumpee squirmed under his master’s punishing grasp. “I-I can explain-”

“Like hell you can!” The hand in Whumpee’s hair drove his head forward and smashed it against the door. Sharp pain unfurled in the back of his skull as stars danced across his blurry vision. “Your curfew is midnight at latest, and it’s nearly two in the morning,” Whumper's angry voice thundered past the incessant throbbing in his head. The hand on his wrists tightened into a bruising grip. “So tell me-” Whumpee cried out in pain as the hand in his hair pulled harder. “Where were you?”

“You’re hurting me!” Whumpee gasped.

“Well you’re hurting me!” Whumper let go of him at once, only to throw him to the floor of the entrance. Whumpee landed hard on his side. He reflexively tried to curl into a ball to protect himself, but within moments the man had flipped him onto his back to better climb on top of him. A loud ripping sound punctuated Whumpee’s whimpers in the darkness as his shirt was torn clean in two. “Coming home late at night, with no regard to my rules, and smelling like a cheap motel –wait…” Whumper’s eyes zeroed in on a necklace of hickeys that rested on the young man’s collarbone. He slapped him, once, then twice, then again. “Who gave you those hickeys?” Slap! “Who were you sleeping with?!” Slap! “Well, answer me, whore!”

Whumpee shook his head, the tears streaming down his face as he continued to beg for mercy. “Clearly you’ve forgotten who you belong to,” Whumper huffed. “No problem, this just means I’ve got to remind you!” He brusquely unbuttoned Whumpee’s pants and pulled them and his boxers down the young man’s trembling thighs. Whumpee’s pleas of “no, no, stop, please, stop” went entirely ignored as he was flipped onto his stomach. His begging took on a frantic pitch as his body started visibly shaking. He’d never been taken from behind before, and this new position made him panic.

“You don’t deserve to be fucked like a person, so you’ll take it like the wanton little bitch you are!”

“No, no, stop, please! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, no, I’m sorry!”

“Shut up!” Whumpee wailed as his hips were wrenched up from the floor and Whumper entered him without any prep or lube. The man was not gentle, far from it. Quick, desperate thrusts punctured him deeper than he was used to. It was the roughest he had ever been with him, unquestionably, feeling less like having sex and more like being torn in half. Stubbornly enough, Whumpee’s body reacted to these more intense sensations all the same, especially when the man on top of him continuously slammed into that sweet spot inside of him.

“Look at you,” Whumper commented derisively, a hint of bitterness in his gravelly voice. “Hard as a rock already, you slutty thing! You’d be happy with just anyone’s cock inside your ass, wouldn’t you?” Whumpee’s cheeks colored in shame as a shaky moan interrupted his pleas. “But you shouldn’t be; you’re mine!”

He felt a thin, warm fluid trickle past the cock pummeling his hole. The man above him crushed him further into the carpeted floor. “I own this ass, and it is mine to fuck,” he screamed, “you got it?! No one else’s, just mine!”

He didn’t have to see behind him to know he was bleeding. At least it makes Master’s thrusts a little less painful, he thought. That feeling of morbid relief alone made him cry even harder. What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Why am I not enough for you?!” Whumper’s voice wavered with emotion. His angry thrusts turned sloppier as he continued. “Damn it, and damn you! I gave you everything you could ask for; I gave you everything you could have needed! I fed you, clothed you, made you into the man you are today, so why?! What are they giving you that I’m not?!” The man’s voice caught on the last question. Whumpee felt small wet drops of liquid fall onto the nape of his neck. Tears? He realized with horror that Whumper was crying as he was raping him.

“M-Master, I-I’m sorry, please-”

“I said, shut up!” He pulled Whumpee back by the hips until he was flush with the older man’s pubic bone, burying himself to the hilt and spilling deep inside him. They stayed in that position for an uncomfortably long time. Suppressed sniffling sounds filled the entryway, and Whumpee knew they weren’t all coming from him. Whumper eventually pulled out, leaving his hole gaping and obscenely oozing cum. He settled on the floor next to Whumpee and repositioned them both onto their sides. “I love you, boy,” he murmured as he pulled him closer to spoon him. “I don’t enjoy hurting you, boy.” The tension gradually left Whumpee’s body as he accepted the forced cuddles. The man planted a kiss on the back of his ear, right above the barcode tattoo that marked him indelibly as property. The kiss was wet and tinged with sadness. “So why do you make me hurt you?”

-

Because what we do –no, what you do to me- is not supposed to feel good. How could it feel good? I didn’t want it, I don’t want it, and I will never want it, so why does my body betray me every time? What if it’s because you’re right? What if this really was my true purpose? To be nothing more than a pair of holes to fill and a body to break under yours? What if I am all those names you call me because I think this feels good?

And, what if I act out, do all the things I know will test your patience and make you rough and uncaring so that it finally hurts? So that it finally doesn’t feel good, and I don’t have to ask if my body and my mind are on the same page about me being violated? What if that’s why I make you hurt me? Would you stop? Would you hurt me more? Would it even matter?

-

That is everything Whumpee wanted to say. Instead, through a throat ripped raw from screaming, he rasped, “I don’t know.”

[snakebites-and-ink]

If you were a pet whumpee, what would your whumper 'loving new master' forcibly rename you?

If you hate what you get at first you may have ONE reroll but no more than that. because pets don't get to choose their own names after all. 🙃

I know some of the names are less dehumanizing than others, but the human names on here were from lists of the most popular names for pets. so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[redd956]

(@urlocalwhumper)

hey dawg thanks for feeding us living weapon whumpee enjoyers

i know that generally the vibe for living weapon whumpees is like the stoic "unfeeling" supersoldier type, but how are we feelin about living weapon whumpees that are like. off the shits feral.

more of an attack dog than a super soldier, weapons of mass destruction built into them cybernetically, because their masters aren't looking for efficiency, they're looking to send a message. for everyone around to know that if you don't bow to their rule, they'll send their monster to destroy you and everything you hold dear.

(and ofc the "monster" themself is kept in a constant state of suffering so they're always agitated and the pain clouds their mind too much to question what they're doing and why)

I love the way you think!

I never really thought of that character trope as a living weapon, but you aren't lying, it would count. (My brother and I's ocs would count then Ig) Also ties into monster whumpees :D

Here's some ideas I bounced off of this

Guard Dog Whumpee

CW: Pet Whump Sorta, Classic, the whump community should bring these up more

Whumper having more than one, forcing them to compete with one another. The most brutal earns their medical treatment.

Dangerous whumpees who have to be muzzled and mitted because whumper doesn't have them under control fully. Gentle carewhumpers being able to coerce whumpee into muzzles.

Non-guard dog whumpees equally trapped under whumper's boot being terrified of the guard dog. Sharing space with one is like sleeping on the shore of alligator infested rivers.

Scarred whumpees with dangerous animalistic features bared, backed into a corner with a tail in between their legs. Caretaker is trying their best to appear nonthreatening.

A guard dog whumpee failing its job. It showed no fear to its enemies, but the same cannot be said as they returned home.

Monster Living Weapon Whumpee

Say that three times fast

While rampaging after whumper's enemies whumpee broke the device keeping them confined to whumper. Quickly a symbol of destruction becomes a confused, hurt, and whimpering creature.

Whumpee always thought they were uniquely a monster. Whumper told them so everyday, rewarding them for their monstrousness, telling them they're alone as a creature of evil. Whumpee always thought this until they met caretaker.

Monster whumpees that despite being living weapons show rage in their failures, and pride in their kills. They don't see that whumper's treatment of them is subpar, because they're "partners in crime" of course. Caretaker would never treat whumpee that way if they were their weapon.

Killing Machine

They know what they're capable of, and they don't want to be that

Maybe they wanna do things their way, maybe they're ashamed of being a killing machine. Whumper could care less.

Killing machine in disguise has been living the everyday life, perhaps even an extravagant one. Whumper found them out, and no one has seen whumpee since, until the destruction started.

Killer Machine Villain -> Supervillain meets Villain with the promise to make them more powerful -> Extra Murderous Killer Machine Villain (Unstable)

Robotic whumpee that is just doing what they're told. Whumper was great, whumper was life. Robotic whumpee who sees whumper returning home with the newest model. Whumper who won't stop boasting about how much more efficient and deadly the new one is.