#Carewhump

[mintflavouredwhump]

A god whumper whose favourite mortal is the whumpee. Being a god's favourite just means that you're going to get subjected to various forms of cosmic and psychological horror just for the whumper's own enjoyment

Bonus points if the god is more of a carewhumper than a whumper

[holidayinhell]

CWs: carewhumper, dubcon touch

“Sorry ‘bout earlier.” 

Whumper waved an apple in front of Whumpee’s face, shiny, bright red and perfect. But Whumpee sat in place catatonically, staring straight forward at the wall behind Whumper.

“Hey. Look at me bud.” 

Whumpee paid him no mind.

The tall man tried to swallow his annoyance. He knew it was important for Whumpee to feel safe and relaxed right now, but it wasn’t in his nature to be so… understanding. He was the impatient type, and the silent act was his least favorite form of passive aggression. 

“Hellooooooo.”

Whumpee shot a poisonous look up to Whumper, grimacing.

Whumper raked his nails across Whumpee’s neck, dragging them into the delicate flesh. It wasn't enough to draw blood, but enough to force a sharp gasp as Whumpee recoiled, scrambling backward. 

Fuck! Goddamn it!!!! He lost his fucking temper again. He didn't mean to. Why does this keep happening?!

“Sorry. Oh, fuck. I shouldn’t-- shit, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you really act like you’re fucking sorry.” Whumpee spat sarcastically. His good arm clutched the fresh scratches below his ear. It hurt, but the pain was nowhere in the same league as his violently pulsating arm.

A tear rolled down Whumpee’s nose, landing with a sting on his broken wrist. He glanced down at the black-and-blue marks. Perfect handprints were seared into the skin there, an echo of Whumper’s unforgiving grip. He'd never forget the sickening crack when Whumper snapped it—sharp and hollow, like stepping on a brittle branch in the woods.

“Well, I uh, couldn’t find any gauze at the Penny Mart. But I got this bandana I can use to wrap around it though. I’ll make a sling thinggy or whatever.” Whumper hesitated for a moment before pulling a crumpled bandana from his jacket pocket.

“Aaannnnd… this is the best part.” He presented the captive with the red apple again. “I got this for you.”

“Woah.” 

“Right? Isn’t it crazy shiny?”

“Yeah.” Whumpee ran his fingers over the apple’s immaculate, shining flesh. “It really is.”

He hated how fascinated he was with a simple piece of fruit. Then again, how long had it been since Whumpee had eaten something that was actually grown from the earth? 

Hanging from its stem pinched between Whumper’s fingers, it rotated in the air slightly, and it was so red it practically glowed, shining like a Christmas ornament. For a moment, both men were strangely enamored with the perfection of the apple.

Just as Whumpee outstretched his hand to accept the small gift, the fruit fell to the floor, bouncing against the concrete with a dull thud.

“Goddamn it Whumpee.” Whumper muttered, voice low and frustrated. “I was tryna do somethin’ nice.”

“It’s okay.” Whumpee said numbly, retrieving the bisected chunks from the ground. The juices from inside the apple glistened under the light. 

“Huh. Almost expected it to be red on the inside, too.” Whumper anchored his head on Whumpee’s boney shoulder. He was pleased when Whumpee didn’t pull away, allowing him to rest his ear against his collarbone.

“So," Whumper said coolly, "do you still want it?”

“...yeah…”

“Mm, yeah, I’d eat it too.” Whumper growled into Whumpee’s ear. “Even smashed to pieces and ripped inside out.” 

Whumpee shifted on his feet, uncomfortably shrugging Whumper’s face off his shoulder. The man took a step back, eyes flickering over to Whumpee, his intense gaze tracing his body up and down, savoring the sight.

“Don’t do that.” Whumpee protectively shielded his broken wrist.

“Don’t do what?” Whumper laughed with a crooked smile, his voice teasing. “I was just sayin'. The inside of the apple is just as pretty as the outside. Maybe even more pretty. And ya know...” 

Whumpee didn’t know what to do when Whumper stepped into him, putting his mouth over the red scratch marks from earlier.

“I bet you’re like that too.” Whumper purred as he lapped at the skin. 

His tongue swirled over the scratches and glided up Whumpee’s neck until he met the fleshy lobe of his ear.

“It’ll be a nice day when I can finally rip you apart too. But I'll take good care of you 'til then.”

((more whump drabbles))

[chaotic-orphan]

Whumptober No. 11

Seeing Double

Convenience Store // Loneliness // “Leave no trace behind, like you don't even exist.” (Taylor Swift, Illicit Affairs)

*~*~*~*~*

Whumpee stared blankly at the wall ahead of them. More specifically at the door of the basement, waiting for Whumper to return.

It was such a strange sensation; longing for the person who was torturing them to return so they wouldn’t have to feel this heavy, aching loneliness. This air-filled vacuum of nothing in their chest, in their bones, flooding them with absence. It chilled them to their core and left them wanting any semblance of human contact.

Even if that human contact was violent and terrifying.

Whumpee lifted their hands in front of their face. Their eyes acclimated to the darkness long ago, which meant they could see the thick, heavy cuffs locked around each wrist that was chained to the wall. It meant they could see the blood from their fingertips where Whumper pulled out their nails with a pliers for fun one day. The nail had only started to grow back recently.

It also meant they could see the spot of blood pooling around their bandage in their hand. Whumper would have to come down and change the bandage, right? Right?

Whumpee shuddered to remember how they got that wound. Whumper had come down in a particularly bright mood yesterday, or was it the day before? Time seemed to all meld into one continuous loop of moments in pain, without pain, recovering from pain. There were no seconds, minutes or hours for Whumpee anymore. Whumper had evolved that way of thinking long ago.

Whumper had clipped their cuffs together and unchained them, dragging them to their feet and over to an old school table. The ones that Whumpee had only seen in American television shows, where the table and chair are one unit. Whumper strapped Whumpee to the chair at the waist and then strapped their wrists down individually to the table.

“What— what are you doing today, sir?” Whumpee asked, voice hoarse, but not quiet enough to be able to hide their fear.

Whumper winked at Whumpee. “You’ll see.”

Whumpee watched as Whumper turned his back and walked to the cabinet that had all of Whumper’s favourite torture tools on hand to hurt Whumpee with. Whumpee tried in vain to pull their hands free from the leather straps locking them to the table. If they could get free… they’d still be too weak to escape Whumper. Whumper only fed them every once in a while. Enough to survive, but not enough to have energy to stay awake all day, nevermind escape.

Whumper came back with a hammer and a five inch nail. Whumpee realised that, looked down at the table, at their hands and back up to Whumper shaking their head.

“No, no. Sir, please! Please wait! Don’t, please.”

Whumper smiled his horrible smile. “Whumpee, come on. I learned today that apparently there’s a sliver of space between your nerves and bone in your hand and I want to try and make it through. It shouldn’t cause any harm, you shouldn’t need any physio after.”

“No, Whumper. Please. Not my hands.”

Whumper held up a finger. “Hand. Singular. I’ll do it on your non-dominant hand because I am so reasonable, how’s that?”

Whumpee wanted to protest. They wanted to cry and scream and call Whumper crazy, but a nail going through only one hand was actually a mercy for Whumper, one they weren’t about to spit back in his face.

“Whumpee.”

Whumpee winced at the tone, nodding like a bobblehead on a rickety road. “Yes sir. Thank y-you sir, that is so generous of you.”

Whumper smiled. “I know. Now, you’re a lefty right?”

Whumpee swallowed. “Y-yes sir.”

“Okay. Perfect. Now, just sit still and let me do all the work okay? And don’t tense cause then you could close up the hole and this won’t work.”

Whumpee nodded. They couldn’t suppress the violent shivers that tore through their body though, no matter how hard they tried. Whumper splayed Whumpee’s fingers and lined the nail up in the back of their hand, just down wind of the knuckles of Whumpee’s two middle fingers.

Whumpee bit their lip and screwed their eyes shut. “Whumpee,” Whumper chided and Whumpee’s eyes flew open. Whumper caught their terrified gaze in his, grinning at them. “I want you to watch.”

“But, but sir, I—” Whumpee screamed as Whumper slammed the hammer down on the nail, jerking their entire body forwards as they cried out in agony. White hot pain flashed behind their eyes as they jerked in the chair, their waist catching the strap keeping them tied to the seat with a gasp.

Whumper slammed the nail with the hammer again and Whumpee screamed until they descended into harsh sobs of pain mixed with begging, pleading for Whumper to stop.

“You can go more, Whumpee. Wiggle your fingers.”

Whumpee looked up at Whumper with a tear stained eyes, shaking their head. “Please, ple— please, no.”

“Whumpee,” Whumper said, his voice commanding. Whumpee flinched at the change in tone, their entire body trembling. “Wiggle your fingers so I can make sure you have full range of motion, or else I’ll have to recheck on your other hand.”

Whumpee bit their lip to stop themselves from crying out as they obeyed Whumper. They moved their index finger first and bone rub against bone that was beside the nail and they almost got sick, gagging instead as they forced the digit up and down.

Whumper grinned and nodded. “Good. Now the middle finger.”

“Whumper—” Whumpee began, but cut themselves off when Whumper shot them a hard look. They swallowed the plea and looked down at their hand, sucking in a deep breath. They got the middle finger a fraction up before a shriek of white hot pain flashed across their vision and their body bucked in their restraints.

Whumpee ripped their hands back on instinct, which would have torn their hand in two if Whumper didn’t grab their wrist and pin their hand down to the table. Whumper used the claw of the hammer to tilt Whumpee’s chin up so Whumper could look into their eyes.

“If you want to lose your hand Whumpee, that’s fine by me. Just keep disobeying me and you’ll get your wish.”

“I don’t— I can’t— it hurts,” Whumpee stammered, a cold sweat consuming their body and making their teeth chatter.

“It will hurt a whole lot more if I have to amputate it, won’t it?”

Whumpee’s eyes widened in panic. “Please, please no. Pl— please!”

“Then do as I say and calm — The fuck — down.”

Whumpee nodded because they couldn’t do much of anything else. Whumper waited patiently as Whumpee got their breathing under control. Their body still trembled slightly, but other than that they were as calm as could be expected.

“Good,” Whumper praised and patted Whumpee’s sweat soaked hair. “Very good. Now your ring finger.”

Whumpee’s eyes snapped open, but they knew there was no point in arguing the moment they met Whumper’s gaze. They just needed to get this over with so Whumper would take the nail out and bandage them up.

That was always their favourite part. When Whumper took the time to look after them after hurting them. When Whumper spoke like a human being and not an inhumane doctor. When Whumper would tell Whumpee about current events, or people he hated in work and Whumpee would listen and ask questions and Whumper wouldn’t chastise them for asking.

Whumpee moved their finger up and down and bit their tongue as they felt the bone scrap against metal and they tasted iron in their mouth as they struggled to keep their screams down in their chest.

“Good, Whumpee. Very good. How interesting.” Whumper murmured and pulled away. Whumpee let out a sigh of relief at that, because that meant Whumper’s curiosity was sated and that they would look after them now. They would het nice Whumper instead of the monstrous Whumper.

Surely he would come down and hurt Whumpee today, right? How long had it been? Hours? Whumpee tightened their hands into fists, lowering them to their side again to the jingle of chains. For now, all they could do was wait, and try to not let the toothy loneliness consume them.

*~*~*~*~*

Whumptober masterlist here

[waywardwhump]

Prey

Clare followed the vampire as she led the way back to her castle.

It was too much. There was fear. There was numbness. Her body felt like it was in the wrong place. Her legs trembled dangerously, threatening to give with every step. What had she just done?

She'd thrown herself out of the clutches of one monster, and straight into that of another.

The air was cold, the wind biting at her skin. There's a crunch of frost under their feet. Her breathing sounds too loud. It's a miracle she wasn't torn apart after her escape attempt, but in begging for help she has doomed herself.

"Olivia."

Clare can't help starting. "I-what?"

"Olivia Jameson. My name. I feel like my new best friend should at least know that, yes?"

Panic and embarrassment mingle, and she doesn't know how to respond. She did promise that, didn't she?

"It's a wonderful name," she says, pulling a smile and a practiced little head tilt at the vampires back.

"When was the last time you ate?"

She has no idea. "Uh. Two days ago."

"I'm afraid all I have is dried meat. I wasn't anticipating having a human guest. If I shared, would you eat?"

Would she? The thought of food brings a bitter taste of acid to the back of her tongue, a dizzy wave of nausea making itself known. Clare stops walking. "I...don't think so."

The vampire, likewise, stops to look back. "You need it."

"I don't think I can." There's an embarrassing whine in her voice that she doesn't catch before the words are out. The edges of her vision fade, and god, the fear in her chest is unbearable to the point she wants to claw it out.

Olivia steps closer while Clare tries not to sway, humming thoughtfully. "You're suffering blood loss, probable malnourishment, and I'm willing to bet you haven't slept in a while. I think that right now the only thing keeping you upright is the adrenaline. The moment you reach any semblance of calm, you're going to pass out."

Another sickening wave of nausea curdles her stomach, and Clare can feel her grip on her emotions failing. She takes a step back unthinkingly, her breath catching in her throat, then coming much, much too fast.

What has she done?

Going to pass out, it's not safe to pass out, it's not safe, she's not safe-

She doesn't register Olivia's approach until cold fingertips brush gently over her jaw. The vampire lifts her head, pulling her to meet her gaze only for the pooling of tears to blur her vision.

"It's okay," Olivia says, her voice lowered. Sweetened, coated in honey, she wraps her arms around Clare's shaking body. It's all too easy to press into her shoulder. An offered place to hide. "You're going to be okay. Breathe. Deep breaths for me."

The sob that forces it's way from her throat does not let her follow that advice.

[awriterinacorner]

Eternity- Names

before next

warnings; noncon touch, anxiety, touch aversion, carewhumper

Amir woke up to touch. Gentle touch, no doubt, but touch nonetheless. And touch was dangerous. Maybe if he leaned into it his master would get bored and leave him alone?

No, the hand stayed. But his master made a contented noise so he was clearly doing something right. The hand finally went away and he could sleep again. But no, now he wawa awake. Now he had to stay alert. 

He opened his eyes and found his master working on a stack of paperwork next to him. Had he moved his office into this tiny room to be with amir? Why? Wasn't he just a nuisance?

His master turned towards him, and finally registered that he was awake, “Good morning! How did you sleep?”

“Fine, sir. Thank you for asking,” he really didn’t want to talk right now, but he knew better than to be rude.

“Good. I'm glad you got some rest. You seemed like you needed it.” Why would his master care?

All he could do was I've a weak nod in response.

“I realized while you were asleep I never got your name. Would you like to tell me?” A choice. An option to keep his identity, or hide behind a new one. No, this master would not get his name.

“You can call me whatever you’d like sir.”

“I don’t want to call you anything, I want to know how you’d prefer to be addressed.” no. no this was a trick. Amir knew better than to trust this.

“Most of my masters named me sir.”

“Ok, but I'd prefer if you picked the name. I’d feel weird choosing your name for you.” Why? He was Amris' master after all.

[blooming-bruises]

Reblogging with ops tags cuz they made me giggle

whumpers/carewhumpers and whumpees that argue like an old married couple my beloved

[another-whump-sideblog]

“From now on, you have no responsibilities, no stress. I understand if you need to keep fighting, though. You need to feel like this is completely out of your control, or else you’ll feel guilty for resting. It’s alright. Fight until you’re satisfied that there’s no escape. I won’t take it personally.”

[lumpywhump]

tw: non-con drugging,

a defiant whumpee so drugged out of their mind that they'll let carewhumper care for them. whumpee usually kicks and bites and claws when Carewhumper came near them, but now they're laying peacefully in their lap. Carewhumper strokes whumpee's hair as they're too drugged to understand what is happening, all they know is that carewhumper touching their hair feels nice.

Whumpee's sensations are numbed and they can barely move, making it so much easier for carewhumper to tend to their injuries

it's just nice see a defiant whumpee get some much needed comfort

[bitchesmoonwalkin]

okay attempt two at posting this

ways of making a whumpee scared of non-con without outright nc or threats

carewhumper vibes. the obvious tws apply

manhandling. throw them onto the bed and straddle their hips, keeping their hands pinned on either side of their head. alternatively, bend them over a table or a bed, keeping them there with a hand tangled in their hair or on the back of their neck.

alternatively, keeping them pressed against your chest or guiding them with fingers tangled in their hair or digging into their hip, just slightly under their waistband

classic shows of submission. tie them up and have them kneel - especially if it's between your whumpers spread legs. give their hair a pet every once in a while if they're good.

pet names: baby, pet, pretty boy, pup, princess. etc.

strip them. personally i prefer keeping my whumpees in their underwear and maybe a carewhumpers tshirt, but even so the act of stripping them is a great place for some physical and psychological whump - ESPECIALLY when the whumpee has only just been kidnapped/captured and does not yet know what to expect

have them undress in front of you for the first time before making them bend over the bed. watch their hands shake and their eyes fill with tears, feel them tense underneath you, frozen with fear. and then you simply just handcuff them or even just walk out of the room, leaving them to question when the n/c will start - only it won't. their fear is all you wanted, after all

gruff/significantly larger or older caretaker bathing a younger whumpee who doesn't feel safe around them yet - whumpee flinching away but too weak to fight as they are gently stripped and placed in the bath, being cleaned /everywhere/ in a way that makes them flush with shame even if there's no intention behind the touches

whumpee being gently but firmly forced into a humiliating position, maybe forced to stand still for an /inspection/ filled with clinical yet invasive touches

using objects w sexual connotations (ball gags, blindfolds, certain whips and types of restraints) in non-sexual situations

this works especially well for a newer whumpee - strip them, blindfold and ball gag them before thing them to a mattress, legs spread. then let them wake up on their own, slowly, watch the fear kick in as they come to their own conclusions about what's going to happen to them

some more explicit stuff below the cut

those dildo gags or maybe an anal plug or vibe - just, you know. keep it in

shoving fingers into whumpees mouth until tears come to their eyes

be handsy with them

taking photos of them in intimate or humiliating posistions

whumper jerking off onto whumpees face where they're tied up and kneeling

buying whumpee lingerie - if they wear it, they might get some food or even first aid

[wintertimewhump]

It’s common to see whumpers that enjoy making their whumpee sad/angry/afraid. That’s pretty natural for whumpers.

But what about a whumper that (also) enjoys making their whumpee happy?

Whumper loves how Whumpee’s eyes light up when they’re given a plate of their favorite food (after being starved for days)

Whumper loves watching Whumpee sing along to their favorite songs playing from the radio Whumper bought them (to help them cope with long periods of isolation)

Whumper loves the peaceful look on Whumpee’s face as they enjoy a good book Whumper gave them (and could take away at any time)

Whumper loves how soft Whumpee’s hair and skin look after a warm shower (the first in weeks)

Whumper loves how Whumpee slowly dances around their cell to the tune of a music box (it was a gift for not struggling despite the pain)

Whumper loves the sigh of relief from Whumpee as Whumper applies the burn cream (to the wounds Whumper made with a red hot poker)

Whumper loves pulling Whumpee close to them, curled up on the couch as they watch Whumpee’s favorite film (they notice Whumpee shivering slightly in their hold)

Whumper loves making Whumpee happy (as long as they know Whumper could take it back whenever they want)

[whumpitisthen]

Sleepy whumper cuddling a scared whumpee... Holding them close... Nuzzling their neck... Lying on top of them like a cat... There is no escape it is time for eepy seepy

[holidayinhell]

Half-baked Carewhump prompts.

Whumper goes so long without feeding Whumpee that when they finally realize how skinny he is, they provide him with his favorite food, ice cream. Whumpee is forced to eat it constantly. At first it was a relief from the hunger but now the foamy, sickly sweet substance makes Whumpee gag. The basement he lives in is barely above freezing and all he is given to eat is ice cream.

Whumper reprimands Whumpee for crossing the line, accidentally slashing him with a knife in the process. Whumper immediately reaches for the first aid kit. He expresses heartfelt regret, apologizing over and over as he wraps the injury. When Whumpee half-heartedly teases Whumper about how quickly he swaps from hot to cold, he snaps. He forces Whumpee’s face to the table, pressing his fingers into the wound until blood seeps through the gauze.

Having Whumpee sleep in his bed next to Whumper after they’ve been forced to sleep on the cold floor of the basement for weeks. Whumper makes Whumpee wear a bell around his neck, in case he tries to sneak away in the night. Whumper is an incredibly light sleeper. Any and every movement wakes up Whumper and often results in punishment.

Scrubbing Whumpee in scalding hot water with bristle brushes after denying him a shower for weeks. Forgetting to give him a towel to dry off afterwards. Cutting his nails so short that they start to bleed. Shearing his beloved hair with a pair of dull scissors (with the best intentions of course) while Whumpee drip-dries naked, shivering cold.

((more prompts))

[whumpwordsoftheday]

“I’m scared. What if they catch me? Hurt me again”

“I’ll kill them before I’d let that happen”

“What if you can’t?”

“Then I’ll kill you”

[waywardwhump]

Whumper lashes out at whumpee because they're being hurt by someone further up the ladder.

Vicious, angry, filled with hate but unable to take it out on the actual culprit.

The whumpee doesn't deserve this.

They know, they know, they know the whumpee doesn't deserve this, that this isn't fair, none of this is, but they're trapped together and the whumper doesn't have any other outlet.

They make the whumpee suffer, then they soften. They speak gentle words. Praise, reassurance. They tell the whumpee every time this isn't the whumpee's fault.

They let the whumpee cry into their shoulder. Poor thing. Poor thing deserves so much better.

But the guilt doesn't stop them.

They are just as cruel as the ones above them, and their guilt doesn't mean the whumpee suffers any less.

[loonybun]

living weapon who’s never been treated as anything other than an object and has never been shown a drop of sympathy or compassion suddenly falling into the hands of a carewhumper. they’re given privileges, comfort, affection.

…and it is the most uncomfortable they’ve ever felt in their entire life. this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. this isn’t what they were made for.

[jabberock]

There was good reason Ambassador was so heavily restrained.

"All life deserves our respect." Handler said, pulling out a shed lower crest plate, "these animals are no exception."

He wouldn't ever forget the pain of that blow. Not when it lived on so vividly in his squadron's minds. Sometimes he wondered if it was what spurred them to maim Ambassador. The animal was just defending itself, he couldn't blame it. But his squadron was just defending him. Ill will was never a consideration towards either party.

It had been belly-down in the mud, trying to curl on itself despite three bruisers keeping it pinned. Shrieks and rain had filled the air. It didn't stop thrashing for minutes after, despite what had to be overwhelming pain and exhaustion. They'd chased it, herded it. Kept it from rest or recovery for days. And now they had the creature responsible for the attacks. The creature who had to get in one last blow before neutralization.

Handler shook himself from the memory. He gestured to the cracked plate. "These animals are not to be messed with. They can be incredibly dangerous and unpredictable." The kick, slamming into his chest. Teeth, sinking into her shoulder.

Idly, he stroked Ambassador's neck. The spawn didn't need to know all the details. They only needed enough. Jaws snapped, bouncing off his arm plate. Handler startled, lower crest hitching. He grabbed Ambassador's forehead. Time for the muzzle to go back on.

It tried to duck away from Assistant. She forced its mouth open with both hands. They'd recently had to stop using the clamp after it managed to jerk hard enough to draw blood. They were in the process of tweaking the design so it didn't happen again. Handler inserted the flat bit, a recent addition to keep Ambassador from destroying their own teeth. It jerked under assistant's grip, still trying to bite but getting nothing except leather between their teeth. It visibly strained under her hands, Handler gently seating the muzzle an exposed scent organ and firmly beneath their chin. Handler finished fastening the buckles behind its head and paused. He moved its face around, considering the range of motion. Next time he might tether their chin to the pillory. They wouldn't be able to buck up and hit the back of their head that way.

"You know, I really should hate you." He whispered to the growling creature, "You caused so much suffering for no reason. You were so close to getting me too. You would try again in a moment, and have. Yet, here I am, enamored with you, you feral little thing." He stroked it down the spine. Hunched over, one could feel the vertebrae. So many bones... He rubbed gentle circles into the flesh, over the flexible rib cage and central nervous column.

They were stiff as a stone under his hands. Why stroking their back wasn't relaxing them, Handler couldn't tell. The creatures had been observed doing the same to one another for the specific purpose. Perhaps it was because Ambassador didn't see them as pack. Or it could be the association they had with people and being hurt.

The expansion of Ambassador's torso, of their lungs, was ragged under his hand. It was time to wrap up soon.