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iiiim a little influenced by things but thanks for all the nice asks in my inbox I came back to (not ones I answered, I'll keep them there in my inbox just in case), i don't know if I'll ever feel like coming on here again and being apart of it again but thanks. maybe one day I'll post about why I left but that's truly a story for another time. thank you 💕

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Hi there :) I really liked your Prodigal Son fic where Malcolm struggles with depression and self-h*rm and Gil is there to comfort him. Would it be possible to have a similar one but this time it's Reader (who also happens to either a) be his girlfriend or b) his female best friend) who gently takes care of him : a fic with lots of fluff, comfort, and care. :) Thanks. Have a nice day/night :)

Literally never.

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1 this blog is abandoned so no they're not but 2 congratulations I was so just blindsided by this prompt I had to tell you personally just how much I hate it. "can you write the evil mean victim raping their poor wittle abuser" no, I cannot.

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Whump Prompts: Whumpers “Caretaking”

Oh I’m SUCH a sucker for Whumper administering comfort or healing. Whumpee needs it so badly even when every fibre of their being is screaming for them to run. It’s not like they can, anyway…

(If you use these as pompts please tag me cuz I wanna see! 🥰)

Whumper holding a curled-up whumpee to their chest, rubbing smooth, warm circles against their back.

“Shhh….It’s alright. You did so good. Rest now.”

Whumper tenderly cleaning and wrapping wounds. Pausing when Whumpee winces away.

Alternately, Whumpee knows they need to be bandaged, so they hold still, but Whumper is having a grand time watching Whumpee wince and jerk away. They dig their fingers into the wounds to see it again.

“Stop crying. You’re done for today. I said stop crying.”

Carrying a dazed Whumpee to bed when they can’t stand on their own.

“You look so tired, darling. You can rest now. Go ahead and sleep. I’ll hold you and keep you safe.”

Whumper pressing gentle kisses along the ring of bruises circling Whumpee’s throat. Maybe biting gently when Whumpee tried to squirm away.

Whumper tipping a glass of water up to Whumpee’s lips. “You lost a lot of blood. You need to stay hydrated.”

Whumper casually moves behind Whumpee mid-conversation, massaging their shoulders when they look tense.

“Aww, who did this to you? You’re black and blue, sweetheart. How awful.”

Whumper makes Whumpee a nice cup of tea to calm down. Whumpee drinks it under their gaze, even as it burns their lips.

“Try not to stress about it. There’s nothing you can do to stop me anyway, so why worry?”

Whumper gently combing Whumpee’s hair. Keeping it trimmed just how they like it.

Whumper’s fingers gently massaging Whumpee’s scalp, kneading warm, sweet shampoo into their hair to ease away mats of dried blood.

“You look so tense. Take a deep breath. Here, give me your hands. Breathe with me. In…And out….In….And out….”

Whumper singing softly to Whumpee as they pass out from the pain fall asleep.

“Shhhh…sh sh shhh…you’re done. I’m not going to hurt you anymore.”

Whumper brushing away Whumpee’s tears with a gentle finger. Or kissing them away. Or licking them off their face..

“Okay, all done. Now what do you say?” “Th-than…thank you, S-sir.” “Mmm, you’re very welcome.”

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(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @mabledonut @paleassprince @distinctlywhumpthing @wormwriting @tropes-for-my-md-daydreams)

Idk who wants to be on what tag lists anymore, just let me know and I’ll actually write it down this time. So sorry. You’re lovely.

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"Go on," Whumper snarls into Whumpee's ear, gesturing toward the camera, "beg your friends to come save you."

Exhausted in every sense of the word, with their pride lying dead on the floor and their will to live shattered like glass, Whumpee manages to focus their half-lidded gaze on the blinking red dot. "Please..." they rasp out, voice hoarse from screaming, "don't let Caretaker see this."

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Warmth

Whumpee and Caretaker are stuck somewhere cold. Whumpee is feverish and Caretaker is exhausted. Caretaker tries to sleep curled up against Whumpee because the fever makes them so warm.

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Whumpy Moments #4

Whumpee almost stumbled as they crept backwards on trembling legs. They wanted to run, but fear locked them in place, inching back until their back hit a wall.

Whumper chuckled softly. “Why so scared, little thing? You don’t think I’d hurt you, do you?”

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If you felt like writing, and if you felt like doing prompt 22 from the whumper section on this list with Malcolm x whumper, that would be amazing! I love your writing, as always ❤️

https://bright-whump.tumblr.com/post/656351586030911488

Thank you so much 🥺💕

CWs: intimate whumper being creepily gentle — mentioned forced withdrawal from psychiatric medications — referenced unreality due to ^ but it's not really written that way

x

"I—I—I—"

The fingers petting through his hair stop, briefly, and instead tug. It makes him flinch, and tears start welling up in his eyes unbidden.

"I don't quite remember giving you permission to speak, darling...did I?"

He shakes his head. The hand above it tries to force his head back down to the lap he's graced to be allowed to rest against, and he lets it go, still sputtering.

"I—I—"

He's struck with a flat palm over his ear, leaving it ringing. "Christ, spit it out, then."

"I want—I want to—go."

There's a pause, and then the man above him laughs, and starts stroking through his hair again. "Go where, sweet?"

It's a struggle to speak. He never used to stutter, to have such trouble bringing coherency and words together like he's dragging it all up through the mud.

But it's been so long, so long without the medicines he used to take. So long the fevers don't come anymore, so long he's not sure how he's still alive, so long he many times no longer knows what's real and what isn't. The man's touch is the only thing he has to focus on, the only thing he knows is really happening, and he hates that sometimes it's the only thing grounding him to reality.

Sometimes he thinks he'd be better off if he stayed in the moments of confusion where he couldn't remember what this was, if he couldn't recall he had a home out there and people who loved him, if he couldn't recall he didn't want to be here.

But he doesn't. He doesn't want to. He wants to go—

Home. He wants to go home. He wants to go away from here. He wants home.

Saying that will do nothing but make the man mad, though. He knows that, even as spaced apart as his thoughts ever are. But he'd already said most of it already, in one of the moments he doesn't know much of anything at all, and he shakes and trembles and curls up.

"J-just...just want it to...stop."

"I thought we were having a nice night," the man says, and somehow it's a threat. It's a promise that if the answer is wrong, it will turn into a terrible night, and he's had too many of those.

"Yes...y-yes...nice," he says quickly, quietly, and then caves completely. "I don't know why—I j-just had—I'm sorry, dreaming, I d-don't..."

The man cups a hand over his mouth, and he whimpers. Doesn't try to get away, though, because there is no getting away.

"You forgot where you were, again," the man says. "That's alright. It happens. You forgot you deserve this."

He must make a sound, though he's not aware of it. The hand presses down harder, and pinches his nose, and he knows it's only a warning. It could get worse. It might, if he doesn't make it better.

He deserves this...?

"But you knew that. You knew that already."

No. No, but...but he nods anyway, agreeing, because he knows he has to.

The man doesn't move his hand. He doesn't for more than thirty seconds, and then finally lets go.

He could have waited longer. It's good he didn't. Worthy of gratitude.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, trembling. "Thank you. I—I'm sorry I f-forgot, sir."

"Good boy," the man murmurs. "And...what did you forget?"

It takes a moment. It takes everything he has. "I deserve this."

"Good boy."

He's good. At least he's good. At least he's good, because he knows what happens when he's bad.

The hand returns to his hair, petting gently again, and he closes his eyes, even as hot tears keep streaming down his face.

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When Whumpee is so tired that they don't react to the humiliating thing that's being done to them 💞

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If you felt like writing, and if you felt like doing prompt 22 from the whumper section on this list with Malcolm x whumper, that would be amazing! I love your writing, as always ❤️

https://bright-whump.tumblr.com/post/656351586030911488

Thank you so much 🥺💕

CWs: intimate whumper being creepily gentle — mentioned forced withdrawal from psychiatric medications — referenced unreality due to ^ but it's not really written that way

x

"I—I—I—"

The fingers petting through his hair stop, briefly, and instead tug. It makes him flinch, and tears start welling up in his eyes unbidden.

"I don't quite remember giving you permission to speak, darling...did I?"

He shakes his head. The hand above it tries to force his head back down to the lap he's graced to be allowed to rest against, and he lets it go, still sputtering.

"I—I—"

He's struck with a flat palm over his ear, leaving it ringing. "Christ, spit it out, then."

"I want—I want to—go."

There's a pause, and then the man above him laughs, and starts stroking through his hair again. "Go where, sweet?"

It's a struggle to speak. He never used to stutter, to have such trouble bringing coherency and words together like he's dragging it all up through the mud.

But it's been so long, so long without the medicines he used to take. So long the fevers don't come anymore, so long he's not sure how he's still alive, so long he many times no longer knows what's real and what isn't. The man's touch is the only thing he has to focus on, the only thing he knows is really happening, and he hates that sometimes it's the only thing grounding him to reality.

Sometimes he thinks he'd be better off if he stayed in the moments of confusion where he couldn't remember what this was, if he couldn't recall he had a home out there and people who loved him, if he couldn't recall he didn't want to be here.

But he doesn't. He doesn't want to. He wants to go—

Home. He wants to go home. He wants to go away from here. He wants home.

Saying that will do nothing but make the man mad, though. He knows that, even as spaced apart as his thoughts ever are. But he'd already said most of it already, in one of the moments he doesn't know much of anything at all, and he shakes and trembles and curls up.

"J-just...just want it to...stop."

"I thought we were having a nice night," the man says, and somehow it's a threat. It's a promise that if the answer is wrong, it will turn into a terrible night, and he's had too many of those.

"Yes...y-yes...nice," he says quickly, quietly, and then caves completely. "I don't know why—I j-just had—I'm sorry, dreaming, I d-don't..."

The man cups a hand over his mouth, and he whimpers. Doesn't try to get away, though, because there is no getting away.

"You forgot where you were, again," the man says. "That's alright. It happens. You forgot you deserve this."

He must make a sound, though he's not aware of it. The hand presses down harder, and pinches his nose, and he knows it's only a warning. It could get worse. It might, if he doesn't make it better.

He deserves this...?

"But you knew that. You knew that already."

No. No, but...but he nods anyway, agreeing, because he knows he has to.

The man doesn't move his hand. He doesn't for more than thirty seconds, and then finally lets go.

He could have waited longer. It's good he didn't. Worthy of gratitude.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, trembling. "Thank you. I—I'm sorry I f-forgot, sir."

"Good boy," the man murmurs. "And...what did you forget?"

It takes a moment. It takes everything he has. "I deserve this."

"Good boy."

He's good. At least he's good. At least he's good, because he knows what happens when he's bad.

The hand returns to his hair, petting gently again, and he closes his eyes, even as hot tears keep streaming down his face.

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Двое против смерти episode 12

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intimate whumper x caretaker nsfw

don't mind if i do

CWs: NONdetailed noncon — veeery creepy intimate whumper — noncon touching — self-sacrifice — mentions of caretaker x whumpee pining — implied future pet whump — forced to watch

{18+ only, minors and irl kink/nsfw blogs DO NOT INTERACT}

x

"There's something about you."

Caretaker doesn't move, doesn't react when fingers stroke up along his back, then down again. He knows that's exactly what's wanted of him, fear, and he'll be damned if he gives it.

He can't stop his breaths from shuddering, though. He can't stop his body from trembling or flinching at the unwanted, unfamiliar touch.

"I don't know what it is. But fuck...it's something special."

He woke up stripped. He woke up with Whumpee across from him just as bare, wide-eyed, terrified, leather gags with a lock keeping them from speaking.

He woke up with a collar secured around his neck, same as Whumpee, a metal chain leading from it to the wall behind them on opposite sides, keeping them apart.

With Whumper watching them. Specifically him.

"I just planned for that one," Whumper says, gesturing. "He's beautiful. The most attractive I've seen. It's his fault you're here, really. Flaunting that beauty as much as he does..."

Whumpee cries out in protest, tears in his eyes. By the time Caretaker can speak to him—if he can at all—the damage will have already been done, he'll already think it'd his fault as much as Caretaker knows it's his own, and it hurts.

Where had they even been taken from...? He can't remember...they'd been at the bar, one they'd been going to for years after work, and then...and then...

"But I've been watching him for a while, you know, and...I found myself starting starting to pay more attention to you. And Caretaker...you are just...wow."

Whumper run his hands up Caretaker's body again, the front of it this time, from the inside of his thigh to rest his hands over his chest.

"So nervous," Whumper hums. "Don't be. You're beautiful."

Whumper pinches a nipple, drawing a startled gasp from both Caretaker and Whumpee, and there's nothing but delight on Whumper's face.

"You're both so protective over each other," Whumper goes on. "I don't think I've ever seen two people so close. And you're a kind of handsome I've never much paid attention to...so that's when I started thinking, you know...that it would be twice as fun to have both of you."

Caretaker swears, talks back, but it's lost against the gag. Whumper strokes under his chin, and smiles at him.

"You're right. I think, maybe, it's time to test one of you out. And that little one...well, he's special. Very special. It's going to feel good. I want to take him right. But you...well, I'm not sure it'll be that good at all, so—"

Whumper slams Caretaker down against the ground, mounting him from behind, and Whumpee shrieks, crawling forward to the end of his chain, clawing at the ground. "No!" he shouts out, audible even though the gag, and when he finds that's the only word that can even halfway get through he repeats it again. "No! No, no, no, no!"

"You'll get yours," Whumper promises. "You're going to get yours good. And Caretaker...if you're good...I'll consider being more gentle next time. Prepare you a little more. Do it somewhere...softer."

Caretaker grunts in pain as fingers toy everywhere they shouldn't, flushing with humiliation when he truly comes to terms not only with this happening, but it happening in front of Whumpee.

"If you're not good," Whumper says, "well...at least I have him. Though I'm sure he'll miss you...I'll have him looking at me the way he looks at you in no time."

"No," Caretaker mumbles, too quiet, and then he squeezes his eyes shut.

"What's that? You're going to make it good for me?" Whumper grabs a handful of his hair and pulls, and Whumpee sobs, kicking out at the wall, wrenching on his arms, desperate to stop what he can't.

Caretaker can't do this. He can't act afraid. He can't give up. He can't act like he'd rather be killed here and now than this.

Not in front of Whumpee. No, he has to get Whumpee out of this. And that means living long enough to do so.

So eventually, he nods. He nods, and relaxed his body, and hides his face against the floor to keep the tears hidden when Whumper purrs, "Good boy," and continues.

Whumpee's hand is nearly close enough to touch. He knows looking up means Whumpee can see he's crying, but Whumpee's crying, too, and he figures it doesn't much matter. Not right now.

Instead, he reaches his hand out, past the point of pain from the wrenching chain, and grasps onto Whumpee's fingers, a promise to get him out of this if it's the last thing he does before closing his eyes.

"How fucking sweet," Whumper laughs, grasping Caretaker's hips hard enough to bruise as he pushes in. "Yeah. Fuck yeah. That feels good. You're good, Caretaker. So damn good for me."

He doesn't want to be. He doesn't want to be.

But he wants Whumpee to be that even less. Maybe between now and when Whumper returns, maybe he'll have been able to get Whumpee free...

"Let's see how that mouth sucks me off, next, and then test out the pretty one, and hell, this might've been the best two-for-one deal in the world."

Caretaker tries not to think about it. He only thinks about Whumpee's touch, about getting Whumpee out of here, about Whumpee.

Whumpee moans Caretaker's name. Caretaker says I love you, I always have and knows it won't be understood. Maybe it shouldn't be. Not here. Not now. Maybe not ever, after this.

But he hooks his fingers around Whumpee's, and uses them to keep himself together, and Whumpee squeezes back.

For right now, that has to be enough.

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Full under the read more :>

Keep reading

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intimate whumper x caretaker nsfw

don't mind if i do

CWs: NONdetailed noncon — veeery creepy intimate whumper — noncon touching — self-sacrifice — mentions of caretaker x whumpee pining — implied future pet whump — forced to watch

{18+ only, minors and irl kink/nsfw blogs DO NOT INTERACT}

x

"There's something about you."

Caretaker doesn't move, doesn't react when fingers stroke up along his back, then down again. He knows that's exactly what's wanted of him, fear, and he'll be damned if he gives it.

He can't stop his breaths from shuddering, though. He can't stop his body from trembling or flinching at the unwanted, unfamiliar touch.

"I don't know what it is. But fuck...it's something special."

He woke up stripped. He woke up with Whumpee across from him just as bare, wide-eyed, terrified, leather gags with a lock keeping them from speaking.

He woke up with a collar secured around his neck, same as Whumpee, a metal chain leading from it to the wall behind them on opposite sides, keeping them apart.

With Whumper watching them. Specifically him.

"I just planned for that one," Whumper says, gesturing. "He's beautiful. The most attractive I've seen. It's his fault you're here, really. Flaunting that beauty as much as he does..."

Whumpee cries out in protest, tears in his eyes. By the time Caretaker can speak to him—if he can at all—the damage will have already been done, he'll already think it'd his fault as much as Caretaker knows it's his own, and it hurts.

Where had they even been taken from...? He can't remember...they'd been at the bar, one they'd been going to for years after work, and then...and then...

"But I've been watching him for a while, you know, and...I found myself starting starting to pay more attention to you. And Caretaker...you are just...wow."

Whumper run his hands up Caretaker's body again, the front of it this time, from the inside of his thigh to rest his hands over his chest.

"So nervous," Whumper hums. "Don't be. You're beautiful."

Whumper pinches a nipple, drawing a startled gasp from both Caretaker and Whumpee, and there's nothing but delight on Whumper's face.

"You're both so protective over each other," Whumper goes on. "I don't think I've ever seen two people so close. And you're a kind of handsome I've never much paid attention to...so that's when I started thinking, you know...that it would be twice as fun to have both of you."

Caretaker swears, talks back, but it's lost against the gag. Whumper strokes under his chin, and smiles at him.

"You're right. I think, maybe, it's time to test one of you out. And that little one...well, he's special. Very special. It's going to feel good. I want to take him right. But you...well, I'm not sure it'll be that good at all, so—"

Whumper slams Caretaker down against the ground, mounting him from behind, and Whumpee shrieks, crawling forward to the end of his chain, clawing at the ground. "No!" he shouts out, audible even though the gag, and when he finds that's the only word that can even halfway get through he repeats it again. "No! No, no, no, no!"

"You'll get yours," Whumper promises. "You're going to get yours good. And Caretaker...if you're good...I'll consider being more gentle next time. Prepare you a little more. Do it somewhere...softer."

Caretaker grunts in pain as fingers toy everywhere they shouldn't, flushing with humiliation when he truly comes to terms not only with this happening, but it happening in front of Whumpee.

"If you're not good," Whumper says, "well...at least I have him. Though I'm sure he'll miss you...I'll have him looking at me the way he looks at you in no time."

"No," Caretaker mumbles, too quiet, and then he squeezes his eyes shut.

"What's that? You're going to make it good for me?" Whumper grabs a handful of his hair and pulls, and Whumpee sobs, kicking out at the wall, wrenching on his arms, desperate to stop what he can't.

Caretaker can't do this. He can't act afraid. He can't give up. He can't act like he'd rather be killed here and now than this.

Not in front of Whumpee. No, he has to get Whumpee out of this. And that means living long enough to do so.

So eventually, he nods. He nods, and relaxed his body, and hides his face against the floor to keep the tears hidden when Whumper purrs, "Good boy," and continues.

Whumpee's hand is nearly close enough to touch. He knows looking up means Whumpee can see he's crying, but Whumpee's crying, too, and he figures it doesn't much matter. Not right now.

Instead, he reaches his hand out, past the point of pain from the wrenching chain, and grasps onto Whumpee's fingers, a promise to get him out of this if it's the last thing he does before closing his eyes.

"How fucking sweet," Whumper laughs, grasping Caretaker's hips hard enough to bruise as he pushes in. "Yeah. Fuck yeah. That feels good. You're good, Caretaker. So damn good for me."

He doesn't want to be. He doesn't want to be.

But he wants Whumpee to be that even less. Maybe between now and when Whumper returns, maybe he'll have been able to get Whumpee free...

"Let's see how that mouth sucks me off, next, and then test out the pretty one, and hell, this might've been the best two-for-one deal in the world."

Caretaker tries not to think about it. He only thinks about Whumpee's touch, about getting Whumpee out of here, about Whumpee.

Whumpee moans Caretaker's name. Caretaker says I love you, I always have and knows it won't be understood. Maybe it shouldn't be. Not here. Not now. Maybe not ever, after this.

But he hooks his fingers around Whumpee's, and uses them to keep himself together, and Whumpee squeezes back.

For right now, that has to be enough.

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There's something about a Whumpee standing up and immediately collapsing that just gets me man. Their knees buckle before they can even process what's happening. Is it because of fever, exhaustion, broken bones, poison?? Possibilities are literally endless and I love all of them. Are other characters with them and scramble to catch them before they hit the ground or are they alone??? Idk man but I physically cannot read enough of this stuff

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Stoic and emotionally repressed characters who finally realize it's ok to be vulnerable. Preferably after a huge breakdown in front of the team who respond with understanding, lots of comfort, reassurance and a group hug.

My favorites

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yes.

Mmmmm, Whumpee tied to a chair that gets tipped over backwards, leaving the back of their head to slam against the ground in the fall