#pet whump Tumblr posts

  • justplainwhump
    19.10.2021 - 1 hour ago


    I'm in the rabbit hole of new characters. Here's Ira, the pet from my last nsfwhumptober write, in her weekly routine.

    (I've been wondering about "pet grooming" in the BBU for a while, so here's a glimpse at my take, doubling as an intro of sorts for Ira)

    Content note: Pretty distant as a whole, no on screen whump; pet whump (BBU), lady whump (female whumpee, whumper and caretaker), intimate whumper, sadistic whumper, mentions of noncon / dubcon touching (non sexual), mention of past torture, mention of shock implants.

    Eventually, Ira had learned to like Fridays.

    At first, she had dreaded them. Not because they were Fridays per se, of course, but because these were the days where Mistress didn't take her to work, didn't give her anything to do, but just left her at home, in the hands of someone else. Fridays were days without Mistress, discarded and desperate. Ira's entire being, the reason for her to exist, ceased without her owner. And most of all, Ira's pain felt useless when Mistress wasn't there to enjoy it.

    Each and every Friday, Jeanie did bring pain. She was kind, with a melodic voice and gentle hands, but it was impossible to work on a body as littered with cuts, bruises and burns as was Ira's without hurting her.

    It was for Mistress, of course. Mistress liked Ira perfect, her hair white as snow at exact chin length, her eyebrows plucked precisely, her skin soft, her body free of any hair.

    In the beginning, Ira hadn't understood. The first time someone tried to force her on some stretcher, Ira had broken someone's nose. Not Jeanie's, but another woman with cold blue eyes in the same pink company shirt. The next time, she had brought muscular guards to restrain her, and done her work.

    Mistress had been very angry with Ira, but after her deserved punishment, she'd patiently explained to Ira, that this was for her. That Ira made Mistress happy, when she let these people groom her, when Ira was made beautiful and desirable.

    And after that talk, Mistress had sent the cold-eyed woman away and ordered Jeanie.

    Since then, Fridays were better. Sometimes, Jeanie would sing songs while at work, or she talked about her plans for the weekend or showed Ira photos of her cats.

    Ira knew that there were rules, that sometimes people listened in, that there were many things Jeanie wasn't allowed to say. Whenever she did, Ira's body was flooded with pain, her muscles spasmed, limbs twitched under the shocks from the implants in her neck. Jeanie understood, then. Sometimes she switched topics, sometimes she stayed silent for a while. Ira preferred the former. She liked listening to Jeanie, while her hands were working on her body.

    Ira could take pain. Pain was better than loneliness.

    She'd put her hand on Jeanie's arm, look up at her, and Jeanie would give her a smile - a sad one, Ira could always spot fake smiles - but then, Jeanie would go on talking and Ira would smile, too, and act as if she didn't see the tears glistening in the corners of Jeanie's eyes.

    Fridays were good.

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  • the-bloody-sadist
    19.10.2021 - 7 hours ago

    Pet whump, anyone? Yeah, me too.

    From: Murderous Lewellyn’s Candlelit Dinner (a shounenai comic)

    This happens quite far into the series and is a pretty huge backstory reveal, but like I don’t want to spoiler tag it LMAO I’m just a sadist like that. If you were planning on reading the comic with no spoilers, suffer 😂 SORRY. I doubt anyone cares about this random BL comic with a super weird title.

    Such a good read tho!

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  • wh-wh-whu
    19.10.2021 - 8 hours ago

    Here is a little thing originally from The Story. It’s not much linked to any of my ongoing stories other than sharing a setting and can be read on its own. It features a Whumper turned Caretaker (male) and a Whumpee (nb). It’s not exactly pet whump but it can be read as so.

    CW: slavery whump, past burns, burn scars, misunderstandings

    Whumper wanted to somehow break the tension. Whumpee still trembled whenever he was near, always afraid he was lying and things would go back to normal at any moment.

    He hated it. He knew he couldn't simply erase the pain he inflicted on Whumpee, but he didn't think it would be so hard to gain their trust. It had been weeks and Whumpee was allowed to walk freely around the house, was given decent meals and Whumper hadn't laid a finger on them. What else could he do?

    He thought back to his conversations with his friend, the one who had unknowingly convinced Whumper to free Whumpee. His friend always complained when he spoke as if he knew better than Whumpee, or as if his wishes were the only thing that mattered.

    Right, they had to listen to Whumpee. Only they knew what they needed.

    "If you could ask something from me, anything, what would ask?" He asked. Straight to the point.

    Whumpee bit their lip. They wouldn't meet Whumper's eyes, but that's how they always were. Whumper was afraid the question had the opposite effect from what he intended.

    "I want to give you something." He added. "It can be anything. Object or action, anything. Surely there must be something you wish for?"

    Whumper asked himself what he would have answered if he was in Whumpee's shoes. If he was in front of someone who had beaten them mercilessly almost every day for years. Someone who had done nothing but hurt him since they first met.

    The thing Whumper would wish the most from someone who treated him like this would be to pay it back, even if just a little bit.

    He couldn't imagine Whumpee asking for it, but surely they desired it. If they did ask, Whumper decided he would give it. He would stay still and let Whumpee do to them as they wished. Maybe give them a few hours to let it out.

    Maybe it would help them see that Whumper was being sincere.

    It was more likely that they would ask for something else. Maybe something for their room, a nicer pillow, or a warmer blanket. Maybe some specific food. Maybe even to be taken away, far away from Whumper, so they wouldn't have to see his face every day. That could be arranged too.

    (Did they even know, that there were nicer pillows and warmer blankets? Did they know there were so many comforts and luxuries in the world? They have been locked ever since Whumper bought them, and he didn't know anything about their life before that. Did they have a favorite food, a favorite drink? Was there anything they missed from their life before Whumper?)

    Whumpee had no idea of what Whumper wanted to hear. Whumper never asked them questions, never cared for what they thought or felt. He never even asked for them to stop screaming and crying, unbothered by it.

    Should they ask to be beaten? Were they supposed to come up with their next punishment? Whumper usually disliked begging, didn't forbid it but always punished them for it. He never told Whumpee to beg to be hurt.

    Whumpee missed being chained up. Whumper wouldn't talk to them, and they didn't have to think about what to do. They just had to stay there and take whatever pain Whumper gave them. There was no way to mess up that.

    Whumpee decided to be honest. Maybe Whumper really wanted to know something they wanted, so they would decide if Whumpee deserved it or not. Whumpee doubted they did. Whumper these days always had to explain things twice, three times until Whumpee got it.

    They opened their lips but closed them again.

    "Hm?" Whumper asked, having noticed it.

    "I'm sorry," Whumpee said, but Whumper didn't look mad. He looked like he wanted them to explain themself. "I thought of something, but it's absurd. It's certainly not what you meant."

    "It can be absurd." Whumper smiled softly. It was a smile that didn't fit them, that always made Whumpee feel messed up inside. "Just tell me, and I will tell you if it can be done. If not, you can choose something else."

    Whumpee had to come up with something Whumper approved, keep trying until they got it right. They wondered what the punishment for each wrong answer would be.

    "I... if I could ask for anything," they paused, swallowed. "I-I know it is too much, and I don't deserve it, but if it could be anything..."

    They raised a hand to their own chest, feeling the scars under their shirt. That had been the worst day of their life. Master wasn't very creative with his punishments, mostly sticking with beatings and whippings. But once in a while, he tried something new.

    "If I c-could, if I could ask you... please, please don't punish me with hot water again!"

    Whumper needed a moment to process the request. Whumpee seemed to mistake his surprise for anger, as they soon started apologizing.

    "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know I don't deserve it. You know better, of course, you do, Sir, I know. I will take anything you give me, and I will be thankful. I promise!"

    "It's alright," Whumper said. He wanted to reach out to touch Whumpee's shoulder, to comfort them, but he knew they would flinch and then apologize for it. "I'm just... why don't you just ask me to not punish you at all?"

    "I'm sorry! I would never, I wouldn't even consider- I know my place! I promise I do! I am yours for you to do as you wish. I'm sorry, I know I sound like a lazy, ungrateful slave, but I promise I'm not. I will do anything, anything to prove!"

    Now it was them offering Whumper anything. Whumper couldn't help but be disgusted. Not at Whumpee, Whumpee did nothing wrong. They were just trying to be safe.

    He was disgusted at how the best thing, the one they wanted the most, was not to be hurt in that particular way. Not to never be hurt again, not to be sent away, not to hurt Whumper. Just not to be burned. He was disgusted that even making such a small request, even after Whumper assured them they could ask for anything, they still thought they were asking for too much. They thought they didn't deserve it, that they deserved to be burned whenever Whumper wished.

    Most than all, he was disgusted that she thought that wishing to live better, wishing not to be hurt were crimes she must prove she was innocent of. Wasn't it natural for any human, any animal even, to wish to be safe? Even if the wish couldn't be true. Whumpee never fought or showed defiance, but Whumper never thought... not even in the past days, before deciding to free Whumpee, Whumper would never have punished them for wanting it to stop.

    He had no idea how broken Whumpee truly was.

    "I will do it" Whumper said, interrupting Whumpee's apologies. "What you asked. I'll do it. I promise I won't burn you again."

    Whumpee sighed in relief.

    "Thank you. Thank you, sir, you are so kind. I promise I will be good for you, sir."

    Of course, Whumper hadn't intended to burn her ever again even before they asked, just as they even now didn't intend on punishing her in any way. But clearly, Whumpee didn't believe him yet. If saying this now brought them any relief, then Whumper would say it as many times as they needed to hear.

    #whump #whumper turned caretaker #pet whump#captivity whump#whump drabble#uncategorized writings #my series: the story
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  • whumpurr
    18.10.2021 - 13 hours ago
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  • rat-father
    18.10.2021 - 15 hours ago
    #pet whump#whump #tiny little mouse
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  • rat-father
    18.10.2021 - 16 hours ago
    #pet whump #tw implied noncon #curious melon#whump
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  • bloodsweatandpotato
    18.10.2021 - 20 hours ago

    Whumptober day 18

    “Now smile for the camera”

    Drabble below ⬇️

    “We’ll be trying something a little different today. With all of my focus on research, my art has suffered.”

    Mistress picked up the jar, shaking it slightly and watching as Aster was thrown against the sides.

    “Come on pet, let’s get you all done up.”

    The jar opened, and Mistress reached in to pull Aster out, her fingers clamped around his waist.


    The fairy emerged from her box on the desk, crawling on her knees to squeeze out of the door hole in the upside-down wooden box. She stood, walking over to the piece of parchment spread flat on the desk.

    Two nails were stuck into the parchment, pinning it to the desk. They stuck up slightly, and a third was between the two. The third nail was upside down, seemingly having been hammered in from the bottom of the desk.

    The pointy end stuck up through the paper. It was at a slight angle, and Aster frowned at the sharp edge.

    “Collar him.”

    Anastasia picked up a small, thick strip of cloth.

    Mistress sat Aster down on the paper, holding him still by the shoulders. Anastasia stepped forward, wrapping the strip of fabric around Aster’s neck, tying it in the back.

    It was tight, and Aster tried to speak, but found it was far more important to conserve his air.

    “Thank you.” Mistress smiled, and Anastasia stepped back, falling into a kneel.

    Next, Aster’s limbs were tied with thread, the lavender string wrapping around his body like a spiderweb, before being wrapped around a nail.

    Aster was jerked forward, forced to stand with his right leg up, and his neck bent back, thread tied to the makeshift collar. The collar pressed on his windpipe as his head was pulled back by it, and the fairy coughed violently.

    Another thread was wrapped around his wrists, and Aster’s arms were pulled behind his head, the string tied to the other nail.

    He cried out, feeling his left foot sinking into the third nail as he lost his balance. The fairy quickly righted himself, wings flared out in an attempt to stay upright. Forced to stand on his tiptoes in order to keep from impaling his foot, Aster was held in position.

    “Now smile!” Mistress laughed gently. “You want my painting to look good, don’t you?”

    She pulled out her paints and sketchbook, and sat back.

    It was painful and draining. Horribly draining. Half and hour passed, but it felt like longer. He could feel every breath through the thread wrapped around his middle, could feel every heartbeat throbbing underneath his collar.

    Aster shook with exhaustion, tear-shining eyes squeezed shut. The skin under the thread was raw and hot, friction burns blazing pink and red. Blood dripped from the sole of his foot, the nail having long since broken the delicate skin.

    Meanwhile, Mistress continued painting. She had moved on from the skin and hair, now doing her best to replicate the otherworldly shine of Aster’s wings. She dipped her brush into white, painting highlights in fractal patterns.

    She looked up, noticing Aster’s discomfort. She frowned. “Smile, dear.”

    Tag list: @myst-in-the-mirror

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  • theres-whump-in-that-nebula
    18.10.2021 - 23 hours ago

    Whump: Overdoing Things Until They’re Painful

    CW: Food mentions

    . -Whumper making Whumpee throw a ball as hard as they can in an enclosure, until they’ve strained their intercostal muscles and can‘t lift their arm

    - Whumper usually feeds Whumpee small amounts of bland food; so Whumpee is pleasantly surprised when they take them to their own, private dessert buffet and tells them to pick one food. Naturally, they pick their favorite food. From that moment on, Whumper only feeds them their favorite food until they hate it.

    - Whumper hears Whumpee complaining about not having deodorant; so Whumper buys an aerosol can of it and sprays them until they have a chemical burn in each armpit.

    - Exfoliating Whumpee’s face until it bleeds.

    - Whumpee who hasn’t been moved in awhile suddenly gets let out to walk around a track. They didn’t expect it to last three days.

    - Whumpee 1 demands medical care for Whumpee 2, who has a broken limb. Whumper provides medical care, but puts them in a full-body cast, even though they don’t need to be immobilized.

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  • wolfeyedwitch
    18.10.2021 - 1 day ago

    And Still Part 7

    No. 17 - FIELD CARE 101

    “Please don’t move!” | hemorrhage | dread

    Content warning: discussions of murder (abstract), miscommunications galore, and Sidekick having a panic attack. Also, Sidekick is now named Devin.

    Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

    “I won’t help you kill anyone! I won’t let you kill another hero!”


    How could she look so calm after suggesting that?! And she had said it like it was a, a gift, like her helping him to kill someone was something to be celebrated!

    Devin would freely admit that Hero was not a good person, and should be in jail. That’s what he had wanted to do when he had broken into Hero’s computer in the first place and found out what Hero had been doing.

    But for Avery to offer to ‘help you take Hero down’ was something else entirely. Even as awful as Hero was, they didn’t deserve to be killed!

    This was a mistake. All of this was a horrible mistake. Devin should never have let his guard down around Avery. She had said she wasn’t going to hurt him because he was a child, but that meant absolutely nothing about the rest of Heroes League. She was even craftier than he had originally thought, to get him to relax like that, even knowing she was a villain! Dread rose like bile in the back of his throat.

    He had to get out of there. Fuck his ribs, fuck all of his injuries, he needed to run. Get as far away from this woman as possible.

    But she apparently read his intentions before he was able to act on them. “Blue, sit on him. Shadow, Earl, guard the entrance. Everyone else, spread out.”

    And suddenly Devin’s nascent escape plan died under the weight of an enormous wolf climbing into his lap and laying down. At least Blue didn’t seem to be trying to hurt him? The wolf was avoiding all the worst bruises.

    That didn’t change the fact that the wolf probably weighed as much as he did. With it in his lap, he wasn’t going anywhere.

    The wolf shoved its nose under Devin’s hand with a small whine.

    “She wants you to pet her,” Avery said quietly. “She knows you’re upset, and she wants to help. So do I.”

    Devin relented on petting Blue, but held firm on opposing Avery. “Your idea of helping me is offering to help me kill someone. Excuse me if I don’t want your help!”

    Avery frowned. “I never said that.”

    “No, you just offered to ‘help me take him down,’” Devin said venomously. “And with your history—”

    “That is not what I meant!” Avery said, showing some of the same anger she had when Devin first said it was Hero who had hurt him. She groaned and pushed the heels of her palms into her eye sockets.

    Devin took the brief moment of inattention to see if he could get Blue off his lap. The wolf gave him a look that clearly said, yeah, not happening, but nice try.

    Avery audibly puffed out a breath and lowered her hands. “What I meant was that I could help you gather evidence on them. If nothing else, I could help photograph that mess,” she said, gesturing towards Devin’s tapestry of scars and bruises. “Then you could take that information back to Heroes League and they can handle it. Or the police. Whatever. I don’t care, as long as Hero can’t hurt any more children.”

    Devin shook his head, not sure whether it was an attempt to clear it or a negation of her statement. “But your history with Heroes League…”

    “Is a complete and utter disaster, I know,” Avery said. “That doesn’t mean I’m just going to kill someone!”

    “Why not?!” Devin shot back. “You’ve done it before!”

    He wasn’t actually sure if this was true or not; no one was. But it felt right to say it, to accuse her of everything possible.

    Avery leaned back as if he had slapped her. She opened her mouth, then closed it, waiting a few more moments. “You mean Lyn,” she said finally.

    Lynnura had been the hero most closely involved in the investigation of Avery—and then she vanished. Of course Heroes League thought Avery was behind the disappearance of one of their best heroes.

    “You were her main opponent,” Devin said. “She was spending all her time researching you before she disappeared.”

    Devin hadn’t been apprenticed to Hero then, but even he had heard the rumors. Lynnura was the only member of Heroes League unaccounted for, and was still regularly discussed.

    Inexplicably, Avery’s eyes began to shine with tears. “Devin, I didn’t kill Lyn,” she said, pausing to sniffle. “I loved her.”

    @heathenville @nonbinary-disaster

    #whumptober 2021 #no. 17 #dread#OC#whump writing#my writing #panic attack tw #and still#sidekick whumpee#villain caretaker #villain x heroine #evil hero#bad hero#misunderstandings #like. there's a lot of them still #it doesn't help that Avery's backstory is basically unknown to any but her #and she sucks at talking with humans #also Devin should probably stop making assumptions #pet the wolf and let the nice villain lady help you Devin #how many of you saw the villain x heroine thing coming? #i wanna know to check how my foreshadowing skills are doing #I have to figure out how to continue this story because it is soooo far away from what I had planned #yes I sat down and planned out what prompts I would use for my stories #but this is definitely not how I planned it #I like it! I think it's good! #and I'm not going to fight the muse when she blesses me with story ideas #I'm just gonna write that shit down #I just now have to figure out how this story is gonna keep going
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  • possibsomewhumpblog
    17.10.2021 - 1 day ago

    TW: minor whump, electrocution, restraints, gaslighting


    “…Wake up…”

    “….Mutt, wake up!”

    A hand grabs Amour’s head and slams it back into a…wall? Where was he? All he knew was the aching feeling in his head.

    Amour shifts a bit, finding himself latched to a wooden chair. The muzzle is unlatched carefully by a guard standing by.

    “You’ve made me very, very angry, pet.”

    Deus says, sitting across from him.

    “What do you have to say for yourself? You killed your Master.”

    “I…” Amour shivers. Deus could kill him at any moment if he wanted to - or he could do worse. Much worse. He was a god, so of course he’d know fates worse than death that he could inflict.

    “H…he made me do it. He made me a m-monster.”

    Deus raises a brow.

    “And you weren’t one before?”

    Amour bites his lip.


    Deus grabs Amour by his hair, tilting his head up to look at him.

    “Do you know why we do this?” he murmurs quietly.

    “Because…” Amour trembles. “…B-Because we’re inferior.”

    “It’s time to face reality, pet. You really are a waste of air.”

    Amour sobs.

    “Useless, so useless…” Deus lets go of his hair, circling him. He looks utterly delighted at Amour’s expression of pure despair.

    “You and I both know…that no one’s coming for you,” Deus whispers.

    “N-No! No, stop…”

    “Why should I? You ungrateful little pest…I gave you food and water and a place to stay and someone that cared about you, and you killed them.”

    “H-H…M-Master made me…d-do it…!”


    Amour whimpers as Deus kneels in front of him.

    “Are you going to keep insisting that this whole ‘fiasco’ was your Master’s fault?”

    “H-He hit me and he locked me up and he…” Amour falters.

    “The normal procedure?”


    “Do you know where you are?”

    “N-No,” Amour chokes out.

    “This is the Learning Center. You, unfortunately, are not the first pet to lash out - and not the last. This is a learning experience. Once you learn to behave, you will be set up with a new Master who will love you and cherish you as Murphy did.”

    “A-As he-“

    “If you do not cooperate,” Deus continues, “well…we have plenty more pets to take care of.”

    Deus walks over to a lever on the other side of the room.

    “Now…tell me exactly what happened.”

    Amour whimpers, his hands trembling.

    “What is that…?” Amour asks quietly.

    “Answer my question first. Maybe you’ll find out.”

    Amour tenses up.

    “I…M-Master hurt me, so I h-hurt him back.”

    Deus sighs.

    “Oh, you poor thing.”

    He pulls the lever and suddenly, a surge of electricity causes Amour to scream out agonizingly, spasming uncontrollably until Deus pushes the lever up again.

    Amour twitches, gasping, going limp.

    “Why don’t you try again?”

    “…M-Master…he…” Amour mumbles breathlessly. “H-He hurt m - aah-!”

    “This’ll get worse, you know. I could kill you with this,” Deus mutters as he turns a dial next to the lever. “You really are wasting my time.”


    “What happened?”

    “…I…hurt Master…-AH! STOP! STOP IT!”

    “Begging, are we now?”


    Deus pushes the lever up yet again, chuckling.

    “P-Please…please, I-I’ll do anything, s-stop it…”

    Deus places his hand on the lever again, enjoying Amour’s frantic pleas.

    “N-No, nonono, I’ll b-be good, I…”

    “You’re an animal, I don’t see why it’s so hard to admit it. This is what happens to bad dogs who maim their owners.”

    “I-I’m sorry! I’m sorry! P-Please…forgive me, forgive me…”

    “Answer my question.”

    Amour shudders.

    “I…I killed my Master because…because…I was jealous…”

    “Jealous of what, my dear?”

    “Of how…how he matters more than me.”

    “Good boy.”


    TAGS: @incoherent-introspection @carolinethedragon @flowerboy-ty @gottawhump @onlybadendings @onthishamsterwheel @whumpy-writings @whump-captain

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  • whoopsitswhump
    17.10.2021 - 1 day ago

    About Apple :)

    It’s been a while since I’ve had one of these, so here’s a new pinned post!

    The name’s Apple. I’m here for whump and to cause chaos. My main fandom is supernatural and I’m a heller to the max, though I do dabble in the walking dead, marvel, and Dc comics from time to time. I’m also sporadically writing an oc whump story, which you can find under the ‘Hobart: from hell’ tag.

    I take prompts! I like to write, and I especially like writing dark things that people might not be able to request elsewhere. I’m always accepting prompts for current aus I write (especially shifterverse), but will write nearly anything. (Or at the least I’ll try.) I do have a few squicks and things I generally don’t want to write, but I try to write around those for prompts if I can. That being said, here are my squicks, and a separate list of my favorite tropes so you know what you’re getting into:


    Dark!Dean (I can try to write around this one.

    Extreme weight gain. I know some rather lovely people who like that but it squicks me just a bit.

    Shit… I guess that’s it.

    Favorite tropes:

    Dark!Sam. Or Sam being an asshole in general. Love that stuff. Especially when paired with wincest or sastiel :3 (or destiel, for that matter.

    Older whumpees

    C O N D I T I O N I N G


    Forced wincest 😩

    Helpless!Dean and Helpless!Cas



    Touch starvation <3

    Non-consensual body modification


    Sex slavery stuff

    I FORGOT MPREG (especially noncon/forced pregnancy)

    Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_sluttiest_ace_on_the_block

    Okay I think that’s everything for now :3

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  • cowboy-anon
    17.10.2021 - 1 day ago

    We got a confirmation so here’s a little snippet (not edited) of that Apple, Benji, Jimmy fluff piece, plus some commentary because ~content~ lol.

    They’re all cleaning the house when the song comes over the speaker. 
    Apple clumsily sweeps a bit of dirt from under the kitchen table when he hears the drum beat, then the building tone, and finally the first lyrics. 
    “[Insert song lyrics here lol…]”
    Without missing a beat, Apple drops the broom and vaults himself over the back of the couch, towards the little black speaker on the coffee table.
    “Apple, no jumping on the couch!” Master Jimmy calls over the kitchen counter. He swipes a cleaning rag over the granite surface and watches as Apple, for the first time in three years, well and truly ignores him. 
    He receives no nod or meek “Sorry, Master Jimmy.” Instead, Apple just turns up the volume on the speaker and clambers right back over the couch. 
    Benji peeks out of Apple and their shared bedroom with their laundry basket in hand.  just in time for Apple to take their scarred hand in his. 
    “I remember this song,” Apple supplies, seeing the confusion on Master Jimmy and Benji’s faces. “From, you know, before.” 
    He doesn’t wait for their response. Apple grabs the end of the coffee table and pushes it across the living room, until it’s against the wall. Then he trots up to Master Jimmy, who’s wringing a cleaning rag out into the sink, and slinks his hand into his pocket, fishing out his phone. 
    “Password?” Apple doesn’t even look up at him.
    “Uh, it’s two-two-six nine-three-zero.”

    Some fun facts and/or things to note!

    1. This fluff piece was originally called Wild Things because the song they’d originally hear was gonna be Wild Things by Alessia Cara, because, well, I like it and I think it kinda fits. I sort of decided to change it recently though because I think I can find a better song that suits their situation and is more, for lack of a better word, “danceable.” Lol, ‘cause yeah, these bois are gonna be dancing.

    2. Three years! By this time, Apple’s more comfortable with Jimmy (hence Master Jimmy), Jimmy’s more comfortable being Benji and Apple’s caretaker (less stumbling over his words, more comfortable directly addressing them, etc), and Benji’s fitting in a little better to this home (they and Apple share a room, and they’re even joining in on cleaning day). :)

    3. Jimmy’s phone password. It’s Apple and Benji’s birthdays and I love it. :D

    #✨content✨ #but yeah! just a lil' snippet lol #apple the whumpee #benji the whumpee #jimmy the caretaker #whump wip snippets #scar tw#pet whump#whump writing #my whump writing #kinda?
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  • possibsomewhumpblog
    17.10.2021 - 1 day ago

    TW: minor whump, mentions of medical settings, mentions of pneumonia, violence, swearing, pet whump


    “How are you feeling?”

    A nurse walks in, carrying a tray of food - some soup and a popsicle. Eros sits up, wincing.

    “My…chest hurts a bit…” he mumbles, his voice weak and muted. “Did my asthma act up…?”

    The nurse just smiles and shakes his head.

    “Well…we reviewed the conditions report, and you had contracted pneumonia from the less than sanitary conditions in the Emporium. Luckily, you’re doing better now, but…” the nurse frowns. “What happened there?”

    Eros picks up the bowl of soup with trembly hands, drinking the broth.


    Eros murmurs, glancing down.

    “I saw…they put my brother in a cage, they…put those hybrids in cages…”

    Eros looks up again.

    “Where is Amour?”

    The nurse sighs.

    “We…haven’t been able to locate him. And considering the Emporium is highly guarded - along with Deus’s presence - we can’t guarantee anything.”

    “I-I’ll….I’ll tell you everything…I want to see him again.”

    “What…did you…”

    Tova opens the door to Murphy’s room, glancing upon a horrific, gorey scene.

    Blood is splattered on the couch, floor, even ceiling - with Amour holding the knife that was lodged in Murphy’s throat.

    Amour stares at Tova, trembling, laughing through choked sobs.

    “F-Forgive me…Otros…forgive m-me…”

    “Backup,” Tova mutters into his radio, stepping away, “backup now!”

    Amour lunges at Tova, holding the knife inches from his face. Tova shrieks, throwing Amour off of him. He crashes into a wooden chair and it snaps on impact. Amour yelps, crumpled on the floor.

    Tova runs to the kitchen, grabbing a knife and a few sleeping pills Amour had left out. He returns to the living room, seeing Amour tremble and stumble to his feet, glaring at Tova. Blood slowly drips down Amour’s nose as he growls, frantically lunging at Tova again.

    Tova grabs Amour’s wrist, slamming him into a wall and pinning him with his arm, forcefully feeding him the pills. Amour struggles, coughing and hacking up one of the pills. Tova stabs Amour’s hand to the wall and Amour cries out in pain, trying to move his hand, only to get the knife further lodged in his palm. Crimson blood spills out from his hand, staining the carpet as it falls.

    Tova clamps his hand over Amour’s mouth.

    “Fucking animal!” he snarls. “Don’t you know your place?”

    Amour sobs, hot tears rolling from his cheeks down to Tova’s hand. Tova backs away in disgust, drying his hands on his pants.

    “I-I d-didn’t -… p-please, m-mercy, I-…”

    Tova growls, hastily grabbing a muzzle from a drawer and stomping over to Amour, still pinned to the wall helplessly. Amour’s eyes widen and he squirms as Tova latches the muzzle onto him tightly.

    Amour mumbles something, his cries muffled by the gag. Tova steps back, a smile flickering on his lips.

    As soldiers burst through the door, quickly apprehending Amour, Tova grins.

    “I hope I become your new master, mutt.”


    TAGS: @incoherent-introspection @carolinethedragon @flowerboy-ty @gottawhump @onlybadendings @onthishamsterwheel @whump-captain @whumpy-writings

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  • kim-poce
    17.10.2021 - 1 day ago

    Full House 5 - Painkillers

    Something lighter this time, just Beige being such a good boy.

    CW: Pet whump, institutionalized slavery, mention of emeto, blood, mention of broken bones, drugs (painkillers), nudity (nothing sexual of any sort).

    Previous Next Masterlist


    Sick. Eri threw up again. Sick, sick, sick, sick. Every fucking bit of this is sick. The house, the Pet system, his parents, himself for turn a blind to this. Eri was shaking, he didn’t even know what he was shaking for, everything was just too much.

    I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't. Eri took a deep breath, flushed the toilet, ignored the vomit in his clothes, grabbed the keys, and walked back to the basement. I can't. Eri froze in front of the door, he wished he could turn a blind eye, pretend there is nothing wrong, I can't.

    He wore the calmest face he had, because his every word, every move were going to be read through the layers and layers of trauma, like an encrypted message he won't be able to guess. One more deep breath and he opened the door.

    "sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry…", the boy muttered, more to himself the for Eri, he was hugging his knee going back and forth, his face paler than ever and his eyes were unfocused, Eri wondered how the boy was still conscious.

    "It's okay", Eri tried, unlocking the chains from the boy's collar, "it's okay", he repeated when the boy tried to get away from his touch, "it's okay", Eri said when he picked up the terrifyingly light man.

    "Beige", Eri called, carrying the little boy like a fragile and expensive vase, "Come with me, please”, Eri felt bad for asking Beige for help again, but he couldn't do it on his own, he needed help, so maybe he can help too.

    "Can you prepare a bath? Just the water, no soap", Eri asked with a faint smile as soon as they left the basement.

    "Y-y-yes, Si-Master, master", Beige nodded, happy Eri had asked for something easy, but too worried about what Eri was going to do with the little one, the old master and mistress never took him out the basement.

    Beige ran ahead and Eri followed behind, he felt his arms getting wet, he wished it wasn't, but he knew this was blood. The little boy sobbed, hands covering his face, shaking so much, so weak and slim, a bit more and Eri was sure the boy would die. But humans don’t die easily. That bot was the living proof of that.

    "It's okay, it's going to be okay", Eri repeated, he wondered if the boy heard, and if he heard he wondered what he understood that as Eri wouldn’t believe a word if he was in the boy’s shoes, even he doesn’t believe in himself right now.

    "Sorry sorry sorry…", the boy started muttering again, Eri didn't know what was worse, his sobbing or his muttering. He decided that the muttering was better, at least he was speaking, not the wordless reaction of horror he showed when he threw up.

    "I I I finished… M-M-Master", Beige said when Eri entered the bathroom, he glanced at the boy for a second and then back down, the bathtub was filled with water, not cold nor too hot, that way the boy wouldn't get further hurt. Or at least Eri hoped not, as if something was going as he hoped since he step foot inside that house again.

    "You did great", Eri praised, "Now, can you fetch me the first aid kit? I don't remember where it is kept."

    Beige eyes widened in surprise at the words 'first aid kit', "Y-y-yes, Master", Beige said before running once again, in the future Eri has to make sure Beige knows he doesn't need to be so eager and hurried all the time, but later, right then Eri had to be fast.

    "I'll take your clothes off now", Eri said in a soft voice. If the boy heard he didn't show, only muttering the same words over and over.

    Eri decided to tear the clothes apart, afraid of rubbing the fabric over the wounds, the boy didn’t seem to get more uncomfortable without the clothes than when he was with them on, maybe he is just too out of it to care, or maybe pets lose their shame at some point during training. Eri hated the two options.

    Eri wasn't surprised to see the boy's body, it didn't mean he was less horrified, the boy had been beaten over and over, he had scars from traumas, probably because he was beaten for something that not only hands and feet.

    There was so much blood that Eri didn’t know from where to start. Even if he tried to struggle, Eri didn't have to make an effort to keep him there, he saw that his shoulder was dislocated, and he probably had several broken bones too.

    Beige came back with the first aid kit, and Eri looked for what he thought were more urgent painkillers.

    "Beige, can you get water for me? The whole jar, please”, Beige bowed and ran. What was I going to be without that boy… It hadn't been a whole hour since he first met Beige, but he was already so important.

    As soon as Eri let go of the boy he crawled to the corners, raising his arms over his face. Eri let him be, giving him some space until the water came, he turned his back to the boy when he took the pills, smashing them silently. Eri thought that the fear was part of the reason that the boy didn't keep food in. Part of.

    When Beige came back Eri noticed he was getting tired, he did say he had eaten once the day before, Eri was so worried about the little one that he almost forgot the others were also mistreated, just less.

    "Hey, Beige", Eri said, filling the glass which Beige just brought, "Drink this, please", Eri felt bad since all he had to offer right that instant was the water Beige brought himself, "You worked so well, you need to drink something."

    "M-m-m-aster I I do don't de deserve", Beige said, looking at the glass.

    "I insist", Eri said with a soft voice, How can someone don’t deserve WATER?, “Since you were so helpful, and… such good boy”, the last words felt bitter, he tried to pretend he was talking to a child, but it was still hard.

    "T-t-t-thank you, ma-master", Beige bowed several times before drinking the water, he drank desperately. Eri made a mental note to give water to the other four too.

    "Now", Eri said, putting the painkillers into the water and mixing it, "Your turn, little one."

    The boy's eyes widened, he looked at the water as if he couldn't believe it was there.

    "Now, now", Eri said, closing the gap, "Great, like that", The boy started to drink, "Slower, take your time", the boy weakly grabbed Eri's wrist, afraid he would take the glass away anytime, "Good boy", The boy curled himself up again when the water ran out.

    It wasn’t much water this time, just enough so he can take the painkillers, since he just threw up he can’t have much water.

    The shoulder. Eri thought, took a deep breath, he had to put his dislocated shoulder back to its place and clean all the wounds, it didn't matter how Eri saw this, but this will hurt so much even with the painkillers.

    Is there even a way… Is there even a way to convince the boy he was trying to help?


    If you liked it, please reblog.

    Taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain, @whump-blog, @wolfeyedwitch, @octopus-reactivated, @sufferfictionalcharacters, @rat-father, @badluck990, @onlybadendings, @inpainandsuffering

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  • justplainwhump
    17.10.2021 - 1 day ago


    My entry for @nsfwhumptober, set 3. Prompts used: Knives, Suspension, Sensory Deprivation.

    Follows directly to [this post] of two people flirting - now they're really hitting it off. And Stephen isn't really prepared for what he'll find in his one-night-stand's bedroom.

    [Full scene on Ao3]

    Content notes: Lady whump, consentual sex, knives, mild blood, pet whump, multiple whumpers very dubcon kiss, noncon themes. Whumper PoV.

    Hope you enjoy, let me know what you think of them!

    Somehow we end up at her place, the past hours nothing more than a thrilling blur of hands, teeth and kisses, of sweat and heated skin, of pain, fight and lust becoming one.

    Madeline's bedroom is large yet cozy, dark wood, soft light, tasteful accents with colorful fabrics. She's rich, obviously, but what intrigues me most is the small assortion of elegant knives on her nightstand. As I reach over, she slaps my hand away and rolls on top of me. "Not for you, Stephen", she chides, as her fingers trail one of the long scratches she has left on my back, sending ripples of pain through me. I groan, pain and disappointment mingled in one.

    "What for then?", I ask.

    She pushes me back into the cushions, her teeth grazing over my chest, while her hand wanders down over my stomach. I feel heat build up under my skin once again. "Wouldn't you like to know?", she purrs. Her hand gently closes around my cock and I can't help but moan.

    "I can't", I mumble, shaking my head. She's relentless. "I'm done."

    "Giving up already?" She bites down on my nipple, once, hard, and I yelp helplessly. What is it with this woman, that doesn't fail to captivate me?

    "No", I groan. "Never. Just -" A soft noise interrupts me, almost like a muffled knock. Not from us, but... close. "What... Did you hear that?"

    "Shhh." She shakes her head without looking up, soft hair brushing over my chest, tingling over my skin like electricity, and I let my head fall back. "Don't deflect."

    Her grip around my half hard cock tightens and she takes up slow strokes.

    I hear it again. A soft thump, coming from our right.

    I push her back and she drops to her side with an angry hiss. When I swing my legs over the side of the bed and get up she doesn't try to stop me, though. I feel her gaze on my back as I step over to her large built-in wardrobe and pull open the doors.

    I don't know what I've expected.

    Not this.

    There's a girl in the wardrobe. A young woman, mid twenties, I assume, with shoulder-long white hair, tall and well-muscled, swaying on her toes. Her arms are suspended over her head, to a hook in the ceiling that looks like it was build to serve exactly this purpose. A fitted blindfold covers her eyes, large headphones are sitting on her ears. She's dressed in nothing but a short silken nightgown, shivering in the sudden draft. Her muscles are tense, probably hurting like hell in this position, and her brown skin is littered with shallow cuts.

    The knives. Not for me. I get it, now.

    "Mistress?", the girl whimpers. Her voice is raw. "I'm sorry, Mistress, forgive me."

    I feel like I can't breathe. She's beautiful. A perfect piece of art. Her body. Her pain. Her devotion.

    Behind me, Madeline has slipped into a nightgown and stepped in. "You may touch her", she says quietly. "She's very responsive."

    I reach out, almost reverently, rest my hand on the girl's neck, her soft, warm skin, trembling under my touch.

    "Mistress", she rasps. "Is that you? Please, this isn't you, is it?"

    Her breath quickens, almost panicked, but she doesn't move as my hands roam over her body, follow the lines of her scars, wander down her chest, rest on her perfect little breasts.

    "Who are you?", she pleads. "Please, don't do this."

    I pinch her nipple through the thin silk, and the pained moan that escapes her lips is utmost perfection.

    "Who is she?", I mumble to Madeline. "She was made for this, wasn't she?"

    "Please, go away!" The girl's voice is becoming desperate, her hands tugging at her restraints with unexpected strength. Of course, it's still in vain. Her mistress seems to know exactly what she's doing.

    Madeline's hand reaches past me, gently strokes the girl's cheek. It seems to calm her, instantly, and Madeline smiles softly. "You don't mind me having her?", she asks me. "Some people tend to get overly judgemental."

    I shake my head, biting my lip, while my fingers still fondle with the girl's breast. "May I...?"

    "Fuck her?", she asks with a cheeky grin. "After you've told me you can't any more, with me? I rather think I'll use her, and let you watch."

    She pushes me aside with her shoulder, slides back the girl's headphones. "I'm here, Ira, baby", she mumbles. "All is fine."

    "Mistress", the girl says, voice broken with a sob. I suck in a sharp breath. She's delightful.

    Madeline casts me a short, knowing glance, before she leans in to kiss the girl's lips. She replies instantly, melting against Madeline, clinging to her with both fervor and despair. "I've missed you so much", the girl weakly mumbles into the kiss. "I didn't want to anger you, I'm so sorry."

    "You can make up for that, baby", Madeline whispers, and pulls down the blindfold. "Mistress has a friend over today, and I think he likes you."

    The girl squints against the soft light, blinking several times, before her gaze wanders over to me. Her eyes are a fascinating mixture of green and gold, wide with fear, and the slightest bit unfocused. She must be in horrible pain. "Sir", she whispers and casts down her eyes again in a gesture of perfect submission, the only possible, in a position like hers. "At your service."

    Madeline has stepped behind me, allowing me to take in the view of the girl fully. I startle, when I feel her fingers close around my cock once more. "Ah, there you are again", she mumbles and kisses my shoulder. "I hoped for just that reaction, honestly. Just keep some of that up for our next round, will you?"

    Something is slipped into my hand, cool, ornate metal. As I look down, I recognize one of the knives from the nightstand, silver handle formed of delicately wrought flowers, blade perfectly sharpened.

    "Really?", I whisper.

    "Mmmhh", Madeline hums and settles on the bed, hand slipping between her legs. "Go on. I've always wanted to share."

    The girl in the closet has closed her eyes. A tear is running down the side of her cheek. She's controlling her breath, flat and steady, with the slightest little flutter to it.

    "Hello, darling", I say softly, as I step in and carefully rest the blade against the soft skin at the inside of her arm, parallel to a barely healed scar.

    The knife cuts into her, easily splits her skin, and the broken little cry that it elicits is all I could've hoped for.

    Behind me, I hear Madeline moan. "Go on", she murmurs. "Cut deeper. She can take it."

    I lift the knife, adore the small trickle of blood running down the girl's arm. She holds back a sob, trembling underneath my gaze. "Gladly", I mumble.

    This is going to be a long night.

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  • distinctlywhumpthing
    17.10.2021 - 1 day ago


    CW: BBU (institutionalized slavery, dehumanization, conditioning). Broken nose, blood mention, physical intimidation.

    You couldn’t have heard a pin drop.

    The restaurant was flawlessly full, a curated and well-orchestrated symphony. Pleasant conversations punctuated by laughs, waiters weaving through the rooms, the light cascade of wine glasses kept full, and silver cutlery on flawless porcelain tableware. The atmosphere was happy and full and satisfying. It would be a lovely evening for every patron who passed the threshold. Five courses delivered, five senses fulfilled. A night to remember.

    No one had even noticed the young man when he’d entered. Despite his height, despite his wide eyes, and, not least of all, despite who he entered with. But the presence of the man he trailed behind could have accounted for his anonymity. Eyes stopped to stare and never passed beyond. There was no reason to look anywhere else, everything about the man exuded influence and power, suave and captivating.

    It was no different at their table upstairs in the private dining space a few steps above the open balconied mezzanine bordered by little tables for two. It was hard to pay attention to anything else for very long here, the experience was engulfing by design. No one was restless, save eagerness for the next bite. There was no reason for anyone to digress from the choreography of the courses long enough to notice the young man kneeling underneath the table of the largest party. Especially not when the guest sitting next to his master stood to make a toast and did so on the young man’s finger. Even when he, being at the head of the table where his master sat, overcorrected and backed into the serving board.

    A single wine glass fell.

    The young man was back under the table before the pristinely polished crystal hit the original hardwood. His hair was captured by a fist before the first of the pieces had flown from the site of impact. By the time invisible shards rained into the hair of someone seated at a table below, his nose had been broken for the infraction. His blood leaked out to run and hide between the crevices of the knotty wood as the staff downstairs reseated the offended table in a flurry of activity so fluid and solicitous, the inconvenience was immediately forgotten.

    Upstairs, the table erupted in a gentle chorus of appreciative laughter before the final salute. Glasses of fine wine were raised by elegant stems to the man seated at the head of the table. He lifted his in return and all around the party reds and whites made iridescent by purposefully positioned lights tipped against smiling lips. Certainly, it was impossible to break the spell long enough for anyone to hear the young man crying.

    And he was the only one listening. Underneath the resumption of carefree banter, his windpipe tested by the heel of a shoe, he heard the pin drop that he’d centered his entire conscious life around.

    It was over.

    To be continued…

    #bbu#bbu whump #box boy whump #box boy#pet whumpee #box boy universe #box boy multiverse #pet whump #institutionalized slavery tw #dehumanization tw#conditioing tw #broken nose tw #blood tw #physical intimidation tw #don't even ask me where this came from #the timing could not be worse
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  • maracujatangerine
    17.10.2021 - 2 days ago

    55. Autumn Market

    CW: institutionalised slavery, dehumanisation, box boy universe


    Brutus stepped out in front of Lydia with a deep-throated sound somewhere between a harrumph and a growl.

    A young teenage boy was barrelling towards them. He looked back over his shoulder, joking with his mates. He didn’t notice that he was on a collision course until he bounced off Brutus’ broad chest. The guard dog was glaring down at him.

    “Um… sorry?” The boy volunteered nervously.

    “Thank you, Brutus.” Lydia said lightly. “It is all fine now.” She stepped up to his side, taking his arm with a smile.

    The guard dog blinked down at her, surprise writ large all over his face. His stance changing from threatening to humble, almost cowering. The boy took the chance to scram.

    “Well done.” Lydia said. “That was very helpful.” The muscular man gave her a hesitant smile and puffed out his chest in pride. Lydia had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. That could have been a disaster, but all went well. It was funny, watching Brutus, he was so expressive with his body language. Just like Cory.

    Looking over at Coriander, he illustrated her point, looking completely crestfallen. When he noticed her looking at him, he quickly rearranged his features to a neutral expression. On a guess, Lydia handed her basket to Brutus and reached out her free arm to Coriander.

    “Come on, Cory.”

    With a quick step, he was at her side and offered his arm. Walking between them, arm in arm, Lydia surreptitiously glanced at Cory a while later, and noticed with satisfaction that he was smiling a little to himself.

    It was a beautiful, blue sky day. The trees had begun shifting their colours into brilliant red and yellow and there was a little bit of a bite in the air.

    Lydia congratulated herself for choosing to wear her thick, grey sweater with a white pattern and her fuchsia pink scarf. Cory had a dark red sweater with a blue scarf and Brutus his leather jacket. Wayland hadn’t sent him a scarf, so Lydia had lent him a green one. The fluffy scarf clashed with the guard dog’s kind of severe outfit, but he had accepted it gratefully. As far as Lydia was concerned, warm was better than stylish.

    “Do you guys feel warm enough?” She asked. Both Cory and Brutus nodded.

    There was a lot of people milling around. under the trees next to the lake. Market stalls with awnings in a mishmash of green, blue, red, yellow and white snaked around the path and prospective shoppers wandered around looking at the wares on offer.

    “If you want to buy anything, just let me know.” Lydia said, knowing as she said it that it was extremely unlikely that either of them would ask. Instead, she opened her purse and gave them each a bill. “Here, you can buy whatever you want with this, okay?”

    Overlaying the fresh autumn air was the scents of the market. Someone was selling freshly smoked fish, there was a wood fire burning. There was bread baking, sausages frying and a waft of red curry from a food stall. They passed a stall selling a myriad of scented candles, some of their candles lit to demonstrate.

    Some stalls sold multicoloured sweets or piles of carrots, cabbages and beetroots. Others had colourful jars of jam or pickled vegetables and bottles of berry and fruit cordials gleaming in the sun. Some displayed knitted mittens, hats and scarves in all colours of the rainbow. One woman was selling pots of chrysanthemums, rows of flowers in shades of lilac, red, white and yellow.

    All three of them stared in fascination at some bees busy in a glass hive next to a stall selling locally produced honey.

    Lydia stopped to buy three small glass bottles of fresh apple cider from this years harvest. At another stall she picked up some pastries filled with spinach and feta cheese and lastly, a paper bag filled with still warm jam-filled doughnuts.

    Leading the way into the park, she stopped next to a maple tree that had begun switching its leaves into a vibrant orange, but that still had plenty of green leaves too. The spot overlooked both the lake and the busy market.

    “Thank you, Brutus.” She took back her basket from the guard dog and took out the green-and-blue checkered picnic blanket. “Could you help me spread it out?”

    Lydia sat down on the blanket and started to unpack the basket, her new purchases, some fruit, cheese and sandwiches brought from home, cutlery and glasses for the cider.

    “Have a seat.” she told the two pets. “Let’s have some food.”

    Brutus looked uncertainty to Cory for reassurance. Eating next to her, did his mistress really mean that they were supposed to do that? Coriander, who already had been through this a number of times before, nodded. He knelt down on the blanket and slowly, the guard dog followed suit.

    Brutus had slowly relaxed his refusal to eat during the days that had passed. Lydia still had to hand him the food, but he was all right with eating it for himself now.

    The food was lovely, the sun still warm and the hubbub of the market a colourful spectacle pleasant to watch from a distance.

    After eating, Lydia amused herself with braiding a daisy chain with daisies scattered around in the grass. Cory and Brutus watched her with interest, and with some encouragement from her side, all three of them soon had flower crowns of tightly braided daisies.

    It was so cute! She took a photo of both the pets, and a selfie with all three of them, debated sending it to Ceci and Wayland, but just kept it for herself instead.

    “I brought us books.” She told them. “If you want to, we could stay here and read for a while in the grass. Cory, here’s yours.”

    She had offered him the book a few days before Brutus came, the first time she offered Cory a particular book. Earlier, she had just told him to pick any book he wanted, to no avail.

    Lydia had agonised over the choice. She felt that Coriander was in such a fragile state of mind, that she didn’t want to give him a book that could scare him or expose him to something that would make him feel bad. But would it be insulting to offer him a book for children, as if she thought his mind was too simple to grasp the complexities of a more grown up book?

    Finally, she had settled on offering him ‘The little white horse’ by Elizabeth Goudge. The book seemed like a safe choice, exciting, but not scary, magical, with no real world connection and a hopeful ending. It did feel dated, in some ways, but she thought that Cory wouldn’t mind. So far, he had been reading it and she hoped it meant that he liked it.

    “How about you, Brutus?” She asked. “I brought a few books for you, but I know that not all pets read. Do you know how to read?”

    “No, Ma’am.” The guard dog said, shamefaced. “I can read signs and short instructions, but there is no need for me to read longer texts.”

    Lydia, slightly regretfully, put down her own portal to galaxies and peoples far away. Luckily, she had anticipated this.

    “I brought a book of fairytales from around the world. If you want, I could read out-loud to you - and to Cory too, if he wants.” She smiled. “Fairytales are for adults too, even if we often think they are only for children. There’s a lot of wisdom hidden in them.”

    “I… I would like that, Ma’am.”


    Sometime later Coriander gathered its courage to ask.

    “Miss Lydia, t-this pet would like to buy something from the market. Would it be all right for it to do it by itself?”

    Its mistress had looked at it, radiant with surprise and joy.

    “Yes!” She had said. “Of course. We will be right here, take as much time as you want.”

    It was strange how its mistress seemed to like when it asked for things.

    The pet had decided that it wanted to buy a gift for her. After purchasing a deep purple chrysanthemum in a plastic pot, the pet returned back though the market.

    Coriander reflected that its mistress had been looking kind of sadly at the pet every now and then during the day. At first it was wondering whether she was comparing the pet to Brutus and thinking that she would have preferred to own him instead.

    But she was touching Cory a lot, in nice ways, that didn’t hurt. She petted the pet over the hair, putting a hand on its arm, holding its hand, even, once. Miss Lydia was often touching it, but this seemed more than usual. Almost as if she wanted to reassure herself that the pet was really there.

    The pet worried a little, but decided that masters’ ways sometimes were inscrutable. It should just enjoy the extra attention it got from its mistress.

    It was a lovely day out.


    You guys! I have over 250 followers now! (256 to be exact!) This is so awesome and incredible!

    Thank you all for your support! 💐💖

    And thank you everyone for all the likes and reblogs, wanting to be on the tag list, asks and comments and all sorts of interaction. I love it so much and it is really amazing to me to see that you like my story and my characters. You are all brilliant and lovely and I appreciate you so much! ❤️

    Tag list: @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @whumpzone @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @icannotweave @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass

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  • bloodsweatandpotato
    16.10.2021 - 2 days ago

    Whumptober day 16


    Random pet whumpee I came up with. He was born and bred to do (illegal) dogfights, and although fiercely loyal, he can’t help but sometimes wonder if his owner really cares about him.

    Song lyrics from the song “Fighter” by Jack Stauber

    Taglist: @myst-in-the-mirror

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