The Moment A Defiant Whumpee Relents For The First Time. The First “please” That Breaks From Their

This is more inspo from my disaster character, Arvin, than anything (I really put him through the ringer whenever I draw/write him), but I was wondering if you could possibly write a small blurb about a creepy/intimate Whumper with a heavily defiant, and stubborn Whumpee? Bonus points if a bed is involved.

(tw: tied to a bed, biting, muzzles, intimate whumper)

Whumpee glared at Whumper while they tugged at the restraints keeping them tied to the headboard, feeling like they were being burned alive under Whumper’s unforgiving gaze.

“Would you cut that out?” They snapped, tugging especially hard on the restraints. “You’re creeping me out. Stop staring at me, you freak.”

Whumper’s smile grew as they leaned on the doorframe, taking in Whumpee’s every move. “Nah.” They moved away from the doorframe and started walking to the bed. “You’re too fun to watch.”

Whumpee pushed themselves back as far as they could go, growling and trying to bite the hand that approached their jaw. Whumper took their hand away quickly, grinning. “Feisty,” they murmured, amused.

“Come any closer and I’ll bite your damn finger off,” Whumpee spat. They despised the restraints that were holding them back. It was the only thing keeping them from going all out on Whumper.

Whumper only chuckled and knelt down, searching around under the bed. “I’d love to see you try, my dear.”

Whumpee thrashed even more when they saw the muzzle in Whumper’s hand when they returned. “No! NO! Get that the fuck away from me!”

Whumper had to tackle Whumpee down to be able to secure the muzzle. They got bitten a few times in the process, earning Whumpee a swift backhand each time. Once the muzzle was fully secured, Whumper brushed their victim’s hair out of their face and admired the rage in their eyes.

“There we are. Beautiful.”

It is clear to this anon that you like collar whump. Thus I humbly ask for it to happen to any of your characters, no preference who, I just wanna see it.

BLESS YOU ANON

I decided to use my Bad Caretaker series OCs :>

—

“Hey, Tobias, can I see you for a minute?”

Tobias stiffened at Isaac’s voice, glancing nervously up to where he’d poked his head into the room. He looked almost unconsciously towards Michael and Jacob, who were quietly discussing strategy over a game of chess. Michael made brief eye contact, a curious look in his eyes, but he turned back to the game.

“Sure,” Tobias said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. It still did, though, a little.

Tobias’ heart rattled in his chest as he followed Isaac back to the room. Isaac wasn’t looking at him, which meant he couldn’t gage whether he was angry or happy. Or excited. That was worse.

Isaac held the door open for him, hand brushing his back in a way that made Tobias flinch. When the door closed behind him, Tobias turned around to see Isaac smiling. His heart fell to the floorboards.

“You’re so cute when you’re panicking,” Isaac grinned, eyes flicking over Tobias’ trembling form.

Tobias ground his teeth. “Don’t call me that.”

Isaac stepped closer, watching the way he stiffened, eyes falling to the floor and turning distant. “How do you expect me to help myself, when you look like that, love?”

His breath hitched. “Stop.”

Isaac caught Tobias’ chin in his hand, tilting it up to see his face. “You know, I really don’t think I will.” He let go of him and stepped back. “On your knees, Toby. I have a surprise for you.”

With a shaky breath, the boy lowered himself to the floor, watching Isaac with big, scared eyes. “Isaac--”

He shushed him, turning to grab a bag from a drawer. Tobias watched it carefully, and Isaac rattled the bag with a teasing grin when he noticed. “What do you think it is, Toby?”

Tobias just shook his head in mute fear.

Isaac walked towards him again, running a hand through Tobias’ hair and forcing his head back before crouching down to be level with him. He set down the bag and placed his other hand over the boy's throat, just tight enough to make him feel claustrophobic.

“Your pulse is racing.” His lips curved into a devilish smile. “Take some deep breaths for me, Toby. I wouldn’t want you having a panic attack.” Isaac waited a moment while Tobias obeyed, then slowly, slowly squeezed his hand tighter.

Tobias jerked against him, but Isaac used the hand in his hair to press him back against the wall, climbing over his legs to straddle him when he tried to buck him off. Tobias’ mouth hung open in a desperate need for air, and it just made Isaac cinch his hand tighter at the sight.

“Relax. I’m not going to let you pass out,” Isaac murmured, holding his hands there for a slow count of three more seconds before finally releasing him.

Tobias choked on air, coughing and slumping forward into Isaac's chest as he tried to take in enough air to make the world stop spinning. Isaac wrapped his arms around his shaking shoulders, weaving fingers loosely through his hair. Tobias struggled weakly, trying to push away.

Isaac relented, pressing him against the wall while he reached for the bag. “You’ll have to wear a turtleneck for a few days. That’s going to bruise.”

Tobias’ throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“Do you want your surprise now, Toby?” Isaac grinned, not waiting for a response as he pulled out a leather collar with a neat buckle in the front.

Tobias jerked away in horror. “No.”

Isaac just leaned closer, emphasizing how trapped Tobias truly was. “You know I don’t like that answer, Toby. Now be good and let me put this on you.”

Tobias stared at him with glassy eyes before lowering his hands to his lap, clenched into fists. Isaac muttered “good boy” and slid it around his neck, buckling it tightly in the front so it was flush with his skin, restricting every breath ever so slightly.

“I knew you’d look good like this.” Isaac took the boy’s face in his hands and turned it gently from side to side, admiring the placement of the collar. “You’re perfect, little Toby.”

His lip trembled. “I don’t want to be,” he breathed, just barely loud enough to hear.

Isaac laughed, cinching a finger underneath the collar and watching as he struggled to breathe. “I think we both know that what you want doesn’t matter anymore.”

Climbing off of him, Isaac retrieved a leash from the bag and waggled it menacingly, drinking it Tobias’ reaction. The poor boy was pressed as close to the wall as he could make himself, shoulders heaving as he tried to breathe through the panic. His eyes were wide and glassy, horrified.

“Isaac, don’t—”

Isaac took a step towards him, feeling a thrill of pleasure when that was enough to make Tobias fall silent, helpless tears gathering in his eyes. Isaac clipped the leash onto the collar’s ring. He tugged against it, pulling the leather taut and forcing Tobias to fall to his hand and knees.

“Look at you, Toby. A perfect little pet for me.” Isaac held the leash tightly so Tobias had no chance to pull away.

“I’m not,” he said through gritted teeth, but Isaac ignored him, kneeling down to grab his jaw.

“Do you know how much I wish I could just keep you like this? If I had it my way, I’d never let you out. You’d be chained and collared at my side, crying those pretty tears for me forever. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Tobias sobbed into Isaac’s hand, and Isaac sighed happily. “I want you to see yourself, like this. How much you were meant for this.”

Standing up, Isaac pulled him forward, dragging him across the floor to a full-length mirror that was propped against the wall. He grabbed a handful of Tobias’ hair, wrenching his head up to face himself in the mirror. Isaac crouched next to him, pressing his face into the boy’s hair.

“See how good you look like this?” He muttered, feeling how Tobias quailed against him. The boy’s eyes were fixed on the mirror, tears rolling down his cheeks. He seemed frozen, unable to look away. “Can you really blame me for doing this? This is what you were made for, Toby.”

He sobbed, eyes falling closed as more tears soaked his face.

“Let’s see how a week of wearing that collar breaks you down,” Isaac said, running a hand over the smooth leather pulled tight around the boy’s neck. “And remember, no one else can see you like this. You’re mine.”

—

Bad Caretaker series taglist (lmk if you want to be added or removed): @ros-is-writing @sunflower1000 @temporary-whump-sideblog @hurting-fictional-people @madrono-but-i-am-not-a-fruit @cupcakes-and-pain @sideblogformindtrash @starnight-whump @trans-writes @freefallingup13 @chartreusephoenix @multifandoms-multishipper @firewheeesky @lave-whump @misspelledwitch @tropes-for-my-md-daydreams @journey-the-panda @shameful-indulgence @briars7 @sometouchofmadness @stab-the-son-of-a

Okay but whump scenario where the whumper is forcing the whumpee to scream in order to draw out their friends.

The whumpee tied up, refusing to scream because it would spell doom for their allies. Whumper grins and says, "Oh, I'll make you scream for sure..." before they began to torture the whumpee. Beating them, slashing them up with a knife, whipping them, you name it. The whumper wants them to scream loud and clear to lure their team to the whumper.

Whumpee screaming from the pain involuntarily, tears streaming down their cheeks from both the torture and the guilt that their screams would inevitably draw out their team to their deaths.

whumper 4 & whumpee 14 maybe? :)

Whumper 4: “Let's see what's more important to you. Your dignity, or their safety?” / Whumpee 14: “I'll do anything!”

Okay so I'm trying to do some different things with these prompts, so here, have some team whump for once. And a defiant whumpee because I realized I go for quiet ones way too often 🙃 Anyways, I hope you like it Anon <3

-

It’s Whumpee’s fault that they were captured. If Whumpee had been a little faster, a little smarter, Whumper wouldn’t have reached them. If they hadn’t been caught with a blade against their neck, their team wouldn’t have been forced to let go of their weapons and let themselves be captured to save Whumpee’s life.

It is Whumpee’s fault, even if no one dares recognize it. Maybe it’s because they are the youngest member, the one the rest of the team sees as their younger sibling. But the lack of blame on their part does nothing to alleviate the knowledge – if it weren’t for Whumpee, the whole team wouldn’t be locked in a cell right now, hands shackled in front of them and the heaviness of anticipation in the air.

When the door opens, all four of them get up in unison. A true team, Whumpee thinks with a lump in their throat. A true family. One they might’ve ruined.

“So, I see you are all settled in,” Whumper smirks, walking inside with a line of guards close behind. “Have my men been treating you well?”

“Oh yes, feels like a much-needed vacation,” Whumpee replies dryly.

Leader shoots them a warning glance, but all Whumpee can think about is their family’s wrists surrounded by metal because of their failure.

Whumper raises their brows, utterly unimpressed, and looks around the room, eyes wandering through all of them.

“Tell me Whumper, how long did you spend planning this? Did you dream about the moment you’d catch us so you wouldn’t be so alone anymore?” Whumpee smiles, and then wider when Whumper’s eyes slide from Caretaker to them. “I bet it’s awfully lonely here. I mean, who would put up with you? So, my question is: is all of this just so you can have at least a little bit of company you didn’t pay for?” they continue, gesturing at the guards standing against the wall.

The smile on Whumper’s lips doesn’t move, but their eyes grow darker at each word that leaves Whumpee’s lips.

“Whumpee, shut up,” Leader says through gritted teeth.

“But I didn’t finish,” they pout, tipping their head and flashing Whumper a grin. “I was just about to give Whumper some tips. You know, if you want to seem intimidating, you have to work on your tactics sweetie, because right now all you look is pitiful. I’d say you could–”

“Say one more word, sweetie, and I’ll make you pay for each of them with blood,” Whumper says, any trace of a smile gone.

Whumpee only blinks innocently.

“See, this is what I mean, you have to up your captor game, Whumper, you look like–”

“Please excuse them, Whumpee doesn’t know what they are talking about,” Caretaker cuts in, wide eyes locked on Whumper’s. “They do that when they are scared, they don’t mean it. Just tell us what you want for our freedom.”

“What? I am not scared, I'm biting my tongue trying not to laugh–”

“Whumpee stop,” Healer says from their side. It’s barely a whisper, but it carries all of their fear, and Whumpee feels it like a punch to their gut. Their fault. That fear is their fault.

“As I was saying, you look pathetic Whumper, and–”

A hand around their throat stops them this time, pushing them back against the wall with a loud thud. Whumper looks down at Whumpee as they squeeze, only tight enough for Whumpee to know who’s in control.

The team loses it. Three screams sound at the same time and through the corner of their eyes, Whumpee sees Leader, Caretaker, and Healer throwing themselves forward, only to be held back by the waiting guards.

“Go on Whumpee. Tell me all about how pathetic I am.”

They open their mouth, but only a breathless gasp leaves their lips. Whumper smirks.

“Not so funny anymore, huh?”

They open their mouth again, and this time, Whumpee spits right at Whumper’s face – saliva hits and stays on their nose. Whumpee smirks back.

Whumper blinks once before letting Whumpee fall to the ground clutching their throat and fighting for air. They look up just in time to see Whumper wiping the spit away.

“Please, they don’t know what they are doing!” Caretaker shouts, thrashing against the two guards that hold their arms.

With a wave of their hand, Whumper sends one of their guards to grab Whumpee by the arms and pull them up, shoving them toward the door when they don’t resist.

“Whumper! If you want to hurt one of us, take me. Torture me if you will, I won’t fight,” Leader says in a calm voice that barely betrays the fear underneath the words. Whumpee can still see the stiffness on their shoulders and the clenching of their jaw, though. Whumper can too.

“We’ll give you what you want, just don’t touch them,” Healer tries.

Whumper simply turns to the door.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give them back to you,” Whumper says over their shoulder. “As soon as I’ve taught them a lesson or two on how to treat their betters.”

Whumpee doesn’t look back when their team shouts threats and pleads behind them. The mere idea of how much despair must be etched on each of their faces is enough for Whumpee to feel tears pricking their eyes. They are the reason their team was captured, Whumpee tells themself as they hear the door lock behind their back. It is only fair for Whumpee to be the one to hurt.

They aren’t taken far. A door right beside the cell is opened for them, and all Whumpee does when they are pushed inside is suck in a sharp breath and square their shoulders.

“Where are all the jokes now, Whumpee?” Whumper enters the room right behind them and flips the light switch.

The room isn’t big – it’s about the same size as the cell. The only addition to the new one is a small cabinet on the side and a mirrored wall. Whumpee doesn’t dare look at the stains on the floor that look disturbingly like dry blood.

The guard places Whumpee in front of the mirror, and there they stay.

“Jokes?” they repeat, mock shock lacing the words, “I was trying to help you be a better bad guy and you call it jokes? This is exactly why you look like such a–”

“Say one more word, and I’ll have my men bring Caretaker here instead of you.”

The words die on their tongue, swallowed along with the bitterness of fear.

“Ah. I thought that might be it,” Whumper nods, pacing around the room. “You got them captured and now you want to make up for it, huh?”

“And then people say I’m the one who can’t stop talking,” Whumpee rolls their eyes, trying to ignore the squeeze in their heart.

“Do you see that mirror behind me, Whumpee?” They do. It’s the one right in front of them, of course they do. “That is a one-way glass. Do you know what that means?”

“My team is watching this,” they breathe, looking at the mirror for the first time. Only their wide eyes look back.

“Yes. Pity we can’t hear them,” Whumper takes a step closer, stopping right in front of Whumpee. “Because I bet they’ll scream beautifully when I do this,” they say as their closed fist flies into Whumpee’s stomach, making them gasp and double over in pain.

Whumper chuckles and steps away as Whumpee holds back a moan and leans against the wall to keep standing.

“Now, what are we going to do about all those insults?” Whumper muses, crossing their arms and staring at Whumpee as they fight to breathe.

“How about you let my team fucking go and then–“

“Did I allow you to talk, Whumpee?”

Whumpee looks up and bares their teeth. “I don’t need your permission to fucking talk, you fucking creep.”

“Alright, I know where to start. Whumpee, kneel.”

They only laugh. A genuine laugh, that shakes their shoulders and shoos fear away for the time it lasts. “Yeah, right.”

“You can kneel, or I can whip you until you can’t stand anymore. It’s your choice,” Whumper says.

“And you can kiss my ass. That’s all the choices I’m giving you though,” Whumpee smirks, straightening up.

Their captor sighs, but instead of keeping their promise, they tip their head to the side and smile back.

“Let me rephrase this. Whumpee, kneel, or I can whip Caretaker until they can’t stand anymore. And then I will whip Leader. And sweet Healer last, just so I can hear their lovely screams while the others have their backs ruined.”

The sound of Whumpee’s knees hitting the floor echoes around the room, but it doesn’t hurt as much as the idea of their team being hurt in their place. Neither does Whumper’s laugh.

They only watch as Whumper goes to the cabinet and takes something from the drawer. Something made of leather.

“Put it on,” Whumper says, handing it to Whumpee. They laugh when they look at it, but this time there’s only incredulity in the sound.

“You want me to put on a muzzle?”

Whumper raises their eyebrows.

“No fucking way,” Whumpee says, throwing the thing on the floor.

“Did you know that I can have the air passages to your team’s cell closed, Whumpee?” Whumper looks back over their shoulder at the mirror. As if Whumpee could forget that their family is watching this. As if they could ignore the despair they know they are all feeling. “How long do you think it’ll take until they pass out? How long until the air goes out completely and they start convulsing on the floor, fighting for one last breath that you didn’t allow them to take?”

Tears sting their eyes, and though Whumpee fights them, they can’t help the shiver that runs down their spine.

“I bet they would forgive you. They don’t even blame you for getting caught, do they? But you and I both know that all of this is your fault. You already took their liberty, will you take their lives now too? In the name of what, dignity?”

Whumpee looks down at the muzzle, thrown between Whumper’s feet and their knees. Pictures themself putting it on. They feel sick.

“Guards!” Whumper calls, and pure dread fills Whumpee’s veins.

Whumpee reaches for the muzzle. It feels cold in their hands, but the fear feels even colder when they look up at the mirror, watching themself kneeling on the floor, holding the muzzle in their shackled hands. What is their team thinking? Are they screaming and fighting to get to them? Are they watching in silent horror?

“Let’s see what’s more important to you. Your dignity, or their safety?” Whumper’s eyes are locked on Whumpee’s when they look up.

“If I do this, will you promise me you won’t hurt them?”

“Oh no, I’m not promising you anything, dear. Where did that idea come from? You insulted me in front of my men and my prisoners. Every time you open your mouth I debate cutting your tongue off. Why would I make you any promises?”

“Why would I do this if you'll hurt them anyway?” Whumpee snarls, clasping the leather and clenching their jaw.

“Guards, cut the team’s air off,” Whumper commands, eyes still boring into Whumpee’s with disturbing intensity. Drinking in their panic.

“Wait–”

“On second thought, bring me Caretaker first. I want to see this one scream for their family before they are all dead.”

“Whumper, I’ll–”

“Bring the whip along with them. We’ll have some fun.”

“Whumper, please–”

“What are their lives worth to you, Whumpee? Really? What would you do to save them? Because it sounds to me like you wouldn’t so much as put on a muzzle, so please tell me, what would you do for them?”

“I’ll do anything!” Whumpee yells, choking on the images Whumper painted so, so terribly vividly. On guilt. On love. “I’ll do anything, just don’t fucking touch them.”

“Well, then why am I still hearing your voice?” Whumper croons, nodding at their hands. Though Whumpee can see the amusement in their eyes, all they think about is their team’s screams when they were taken from the cell as they raise the muzzle to their face. With their family's voices sounding in their mind, echoing with each beat of their heart, they find that it isn't hard to do it at all.

It’s with Caretaker’s soft murmurs when Whumpee has trouble falling asleep in their ears that they bite on the bit. Leader’s gentle hands guiding Whumpee to the correct position when they were learning how to fight is the memory that guides them as they fasten the muzzle behind their own head. And it is with Healer’s affectioned smile whenever Whumpee asks them to bandage the most meaningless wounds shining in their mind that they hold still when Whumper places a finger under their chin and tilts their chin up.

“Look,” Whumper whispers, shifting to the side so Whumpee can see their reflection in the mirror. So their team can see it too.

Their eyes shine with unshed tears. They had never realized how small they look when they aren’t using their words to make themself bigger. How their wrists look so very thin surrounded by metal. But there’s only so much Whumpee can look at before their eyes fall on the muzzle.

It covers half of their face, stiff leather locking their mouth shut. They look… defeated. Young. They look so terribly young with that thing covering their mouth, only big scared eyes and empty defiance left.

“So much prettier when you’re quiet,” Whumper sighs, letting out a low chuckle. “Why don’t we work on the lack of respect, now?”

When they unsheathe a knife and let the sharp tip shine near Whumpee’s face, they can’t help but pull away with a scared whine. The guards are there in an instant to hold them still as Whumper laughs out loud and presses the blade against Whumpee’s chest, delighting in their muffled screams as it draws a line of blood across their skin.

On the other side of the mirror, though Whumpee can't hear them, their team screams themselves hoarse as they watch Whumpee’s blood run and pool around them. They don’t stop even after Whumpee is left in a bloody, sobbing heap on the floor for them to stare at.

-

Prompts from this list

My Personal Favourite Whump Series :>

Hi! These are just some of my favourite works that I’ve found while lurking. I love these works so much, the whump community has so many talented writers, I just want to shower you guys with compliments ❤️❤️❤️

Honor Bound - by @whump-tr0pes (NSFW)

^ This altered my brain chemistry

Behaviour Modifcation - by @whumpcereal (NSFW)

Brother’s Keeper - by @darkthingshappen (NSFW)

The Kennel - by @whumpcereal (NSFW)

Written in Blood - by @as-a-matter-of-whump

The Crow and the Dove (Kai and Kyriel) - by @there-will-always-be-blood (NSFW)

I’ll Give All I Have

Fair warning guys, this one is really long! I don’t know how it got this long, but it did. 

The Whumptober prompt for this was Forced Mutism. I’d like to thank both @jinmukangwrites​ and @fidothefinch​ for being two enablers. 

Characters: Jason & Damian, some minor Bruce and Dick

Words: 10,261

Summary:

“The little one will do.”

“No!” Jason cried, tugging at his restraints as he tried to push himself forward, “Leave him be! Whatever you’re doing, it’s me who’s been after you not him. He’s got nothing to do with this.”

The smile the man gave Jason sent chills down his spine, “Exactly.”

~

Jason pulled his legs a little closer to his body and tugged at the cuffs on his wrists again, trying for what felt like the millionth time to get his hand to squeeze through. He was pretty close, they hadn’t tightened them incredibly tight, and Jason thought that maybe if he dislocated his thumb or broke it he could maybe slip them off.

He gave up for the time being, letting his hands flop to the ground, the metal of the cuffs clinking against the concrete. Even if he could get them off and get out of this far too tiny closet, Jason had no idea where they were keeping Damian. The last thing he was doing was leaving here without his kid brother.

If there was anything Jason was confident in, it was that Robin was still alive, and probably just as fine as he was. The guys who’d grabbed them could have easily killed them when the fight had gone sideways, but instead they’d been tied up and dragged here, to some kind of processing plant, with Robin being dragged in one direction, and Jason another.

There were a couple things to take from this, one the men hadn’t really cared whether or not Jason knew where he was being taken, and they hadn’t bruised either of them up more than was necessary. Though, to be fair, in both their cases they’d fought tooth and nail, so that was almost a negligible fact.

Whatever was going on, Mr. Evil Bossman, AKA Barnes, had a plan for Red Hood and Robin, and while Jason didn’t like the idea of sitting around waiting, he liked the idea of causing trouble and getting Robin killed even less.

Keep reading

Hostage Situation

(tw: gun, death threat, brief gore mention, restraint, forced to hurt (restrain others), hostage whump)

“You.” Whumper gestures toward Whumpee with the barrel of their gun.

Whumpee glances over their shoulder at the other hostages.

“Yes you, idiot. Stand up.”

Whumpee keeps their hands raised as they take a shaky step forward.

Whumper tosses a package of zip ties at them. Whumpee catches it clumsily, almost dropping it with shaking fingers.

“Tie them all up.”

Whumpee’s eyes meet Caretakers. They give Whumpee an encouraging nod. Whumpee glances down at the plastic. They know Caretaker’s training is their best chance of getting out of here. Can they really doom everyone in here by restraining them?

Whumper cuts off their thoughts. “Make em tight - fuck it up and I’m blowing your brains across the wall.”

Whumpee flinches back, but takes one out of the package.

Whumpee tries to be sneaky. They loop the zip tie over Caretaker’s thumb before tightening it down over the visible wrist.

A gun clicks against the back of Whumpee’s head.

Whumper voice is soft in their ear. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Whumpee trembles “J-j-just what y-ou sai-”

“Fix it.”

Whumpee trembles, reluctantly pulling out another zip tie, puting it around Caretaker’s wrists. They cinch it tight with sweating fingers.

“Tighter”

“But it’s-”

“Tighter”

Whumpee flinches back, but snugs the zip tie tighter yet.

“More.”

Whumpee turns to them. “I can’t any more - it’s-”

“For fucks sake.” Whumper reaches around them, jerking the tail up and down until Caretaker hisses at the pain. It’s digging deep into the skin now.

Whumpee whispers harshly against their ear. “If you can’t learn to follow orders real fast, I’m not going to have a use for you.” The barrel grinds against their skull, bowing their head forward. “And guess what happens when I don’t have a use for you?”

Whumpee shivers, swallowing thickly. “I-I’ll be good. I can - I. I won’t do it again.”

“Good.” The barrel eases slightly. “Now keep going.”

.

(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @mabledonut @jadeocean46910 @paleassprince @distinctlywhumpthing @tropes-for-my-md-daydreams @batfacedliar-yetagain @suspicious-whumping-egg @lav-whumps @wormwriting @meowsikbox @villainsvictim @throwawaywhumper @wild-selenite-caffine @whumpasaurus101 @thecitythatdoesntsleep )

I love crying in whump stories because it's such a familiar human instinct, but it also carries a lot of meaning. Generally, people think crying is a sign of weakness. It's a perfectly natural and normal response to stress, but it's seen as something you should avoid, and oftentimes crying in front of someone you don't know well is uncomfortable for both parties. There’s a kind of stigma around showing this level of emotion. Being overly sensitive is usually viewed as a negative trait.

If someone cries, especially in front of other people, they are stressed enough that they can’t repress that feeling of being overwhelmed. It's a sign of vulnerability. Being pushed to tears can make a character feel completely powerless. It's degrading. It's also one of the few things that is hard to hide. Even if a character manages to keep a stoic front, a few tears and a trembling voice can make that all fall apart.

If a character feels comfortable enough to cry in front of someone, however, they're comfortable enough to be vulnerable with them. They can truly express what they're feeling. There's a strong level of trust involved. They don't feel like they have to pretend. They don't feel like they need to hide all the ugly parts of themselves, because they know they can always depend on that other person.

I just really love weepy characters in fiction ok :'''')

Got any drug whump? Like the whumper wants the keep the whumpee docile. (Expecially when the whumpee is strong or sarcastic)

- “There, there…Just let the sedative do its job, let it take you down. No more struggling, no more fighting, that’s it…Nighty night, sweetheart.”

- Whumper strapping an anesthesia mask over Whumpee’s face. “Perfect. That’ll stop you from biting, won’t it?”

- “You feel that, don’t you?” Whumper whispers, pulling Whumpee’s chin up to look into their glazed eyes. “Soon you won’t be able to even lift a finger.”

- “I sure wish you had listened to me when I told you to stay quiet, Whumpee. This next dose is going to be even more painful.”

- Whumpee groggily mumbling. Whumper thinks they’re finally going to get them to talk, but it turns out Whumpee is just mocking them even in their stupor

- “Time for another poke!” Whumper singsongs as they jab the syringe into Whumpee hard. “I’m sure you won’t mind the bruises, you’re a tough guy/girl!”

- “I remember a time you would have been trying to tear me apart for touching you.” Whumper strokes a hand through the dazed, sleepy Whumpee’s hair. “Isn’t it better now that you’ve learned your place?”

- Whumper convinces Whumpee after they wake up from the drug’s affects that they told them everything they wanted to know (Maybe they did). It’s the first time Whumper sees real fear on Whumpee’s face and they’re living for it

Muscle Memory

As Whumpee is recovering, Caretaker notices that they always move both arms together and pick things up with both hands, as if part of them still thinks they’re wearing manacles.