resource sideblog for whump prompts, askbox memes, and inspiration. 18+ only due to violent and potentially suggestive content. minors will be blocked!
Welcome to my whump-focused sideblog for all my whumpy thoughts! Here you'll find:
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Could you make a prompt/drabble about a whumpee having sex with caretaker for the first time in a while after being assaulted by whumper, and caretaker guiding them through the entire thing? I love your work by the way!
i would LOVE to this is one of my favourite things forever. i <3 sex after trauma. for anyone reading this, this drabble is intended in the context of platonic sex/friends being sexually intimate/other nonromantic context. interpret it how you want of course, but that is how we roll on this blog.
...
they're both nervous. whumpee is nervous, but caretaker is nervous, too. they want this to be... good. to be safe.
"it's okay if you have to stop," caretaker says. their voice is soft and warm. there's only a dim lamp on in the room, and they're in caretaker's bed, dressed in their pajamas. that felt like a silly way to do this, but it makes sense. they're comfortable, it's loose clothing, but they're not jumping straight to being fully naked. they're taking it slow. that's the plan. take it slow. "i just- you can always say stop. that's always okay."
whumpee is quiet at first and nerves climb higher in caretaker's throat. was that too patronizing? did it feel true enough? did they fuck up the wording, did it- was it-
"you can, too," is what whumpee finally says. "say no, i mean. it's okay if you want to stop."
caretaker looks at them sharply, abruptly worried that it seems like they don't actually want to be here, that shame and guilt is making whumpee feel like a horrible burden. it wouldn't be the first time. but that's... what's on their face isn't that. it's not guilt, or prickly defensiveness, or... it's warmth. it's an awkward, shy kind of earnestness, because- oh. right. they just... they meant that. they want caretaker to know that they can stop, too. it's- it's really sweet, is what it is.
"yeah," caretaker breathes, reaching over and taking whumpee's hand. they squeeze tight, get a tight squeeze back. they're close, and the sudden eye contact, sudden closeness, is making their skin feel hot, especially between their legs. "yeah. anyone gets to stop. any time. ground rule."
they smile at each other. it's earnest, a bit embarrassed, a little silly. it's time.
they start slow. caretaker's hands are warm and gentle, sliding up underneath whumpee's shirt. they pay attention, watch for reactions as things ramp up. sometimes, whumpee flinches or makes a faint whimpering sound. caretaker pauses when that happens, their hands going still, their bodies pressed close together, waiting but not pulling away. not calling a stop to things. they don't ask incessantly, don't constantly force whumpee to answer is this okay, are you good, do you want to keep going? but they wait for whumpee to start pressing into their touch again, for them to nod, to keep going.
caretaker hums in pleasure against the top of whumpee's head. they're both naked, bodies nearly indistinguishable, rocking into each other, into the feeling. they exhale whumpee's name, and whumpee laughs - actually laughs, quiet and brief but sincere and happy.
(whumpee had forgotten that part. how sometimes sex can mean laughing. can mean giggling and pressing your foreheads together before peppering kisses down someone's jaw.)
it's... it's good. it's not perfect. whumpee gets scared, they flinch, they nearly need to stop altogether when caretaker touches them in just the wrong way. but they recover. caretaker holds them, their naked bodies still touching, still joined, still flushed and wet and aroused by each other, but doesn't continue thrusting, doesn't kiss their stuttered breathing away. they just hold whumpee, stopped mid-fuck, and murmur, "it's me. you're safe. it's me, we're in my bed, in my bedroom. just us here. we're safe. we're okay. it's okay."
and it is. it's okay.
it's good.
they lay together afterwards, spent and relaxed and happy, whumpee feeling raw and vulnerable but still feeling good about what they did. they press their face into caretaker's collarbone, wrap arms around their bare waist, skin to skin, breathing together as the aftershocks of sex fade.
they'll talk about it. they'll talk about how it went, about whether it's something they want to do again. if whumpee starts to tip into feeling bad, they can talk about that, too. but for now they lay together, holding each other. it worked. it was good.
You’re never gonna get an angel bound in human form that isn’t some sort of fucked up. You’re cutting it off from all sorts of metaphysical senses, extradimensional perceptions, and biologically impossible physiology all at once. That’s like if you pancaked a human down to 2D and took away all our senses besides touch and smell. You’d be pretty weird too.
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We shot that at three in the morning in a car park in Manchester. It was freezing cold, and I had Bill Fichtner spitting in my face and pulling my hair. It was pretty amazing. That scene is phenomenal. His performance in that scene is really intense and visceral and guttural, but you really feel the heart inside of Jasper. You feel his rage.
some fun nsfwhump context here too, of whumper asking ‘consent’ to do something - you don’t mind if i touch you here, do you? tell me to stop and i’ll stop - and laughing at whumpee who can’t verbally respond as whumper’s hands get more and more invasive on their body. whumpee’s chest heaving as the panic gets higher, shaking their head and so lost in fear it’s like they actually think whumper might stop if only they could say no.
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I'm in such a mood for whumpees who have sexual trauma, who simultaneously are sex obsessed and sex repulsed. It's on their mind constantly and they crave the normalcy of it, but at the same time, are disgusted by their bodies and their own pleasure. Whumpees who get stuck in a cycle of trying to find comfort in intimacy, are starved for something gentle, and yet it feels like something withering up and dying inside their gut every time they try.
Whumpee spent a long time in captivity, and thinks they have a pretty good idea of what torture is. Torture is things that leave them physically in agony, or miserable and exhausted.
But humiliation? Or "gentle" sexual abuse / noncon?
"You're being silly again, Caretaker. How could I have been traumatised by something that didn't hurt?"
i know this is themed after the taylor swift but there is something so deeply funny about getting a cutesy wootsy beaded bracelet at claires that says "tortured". who else is being tortured in this claires⁉️ if you're being tortured in claires make some noise ‼️💯
I think we’ve been neglecting the whump potential of eye drops. Imagine a character being held down and having an unknown fluid forced into their eyes. Is it medicine, or something more sinister?
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Chain them, tie them, catch their clothing or a body part on something in a way they can't get free on their own.
Have your whumper pin them with their entire bodyweight.
Have multiple whumpers hold their limbs and lock their arm around their head. Hold them tight 'til they tire themselves out and the fight leaves their body.
Do they keep begging? Do they face it head-on with stoicism? Do they spit and bite and snarl? Or do they go blank and resign to the fact that there's no escaping this?
