Me // Whumpee // Whumper

Whump Prompt #289

“Stop it! Please!” The caretaker lunges forward. “I’ll do anything you want! Please don’t hurt them!”

The whumper smiles, leaning forward to caress the caretaker’s face. “Oh darling, I’m not going to hurt them.” They press something cold and hard into the caretaker’s open palm. “You are.”

Lab Rats

I’ve had these characters in my mind for a while now, and I actually have a good idea of where this is going for once. So meet Noah, my OC who I plan on torturing loving a lot. 

CW: forced stripping and noncon touching (neither of them sexual), lab whump (not really, but that’s the vibe), manhandling

There was something wrong. 

Noah didn’t know what, or why, but he could feel it. It was a sharp tug in the pit of his stomach, the imaginary feel of cold fingers trailing down his spine, a want to hide, go back, give up. 

Maybe it was just anxiety for being in a new place, taking a chance he wasn’t expecting until a few days before. Maybe it was just him overacting to the change of scenario, the coldness of the too-white building, the grim vibe a lab usually had. His instincts were rarely on point anyway, usually so mixed with fear and reluctance that he didn’t know how to separate the instinct from the unease. 

So he kept walking, even though something urged him to go back.

Keep reading

Ya know what’s nice?

Resignation.

A Whumpee who is eerily calm when they’re (re)captured. They accept the handcuffs. They hold out their hands and let themself be cuffed.

Or they just turn around when ordered and place their hands on their back. And they smile at their partner.

All the while their partner, friend, caretaker is losing it.

“You can’t do this!” they shout, straining against the henchmen holding them.

And Whumpee is not sure if it’s addressed to them or their captors.

FEBUWHUMP2022 DAY 8, ALT 7: BLINDFOLDED

@febuwhump

CWs: creepy/intimate whumper, vague noncon touching, stress position

Whumpee is scared.

They try not to show it, but trapped in complete darkness, not knowing where or when Whumper is going to touch them next...it's hard. It's impossible, really, to hold back the gasps that come each time the monster's fingers trail over their back, and then disappear.

And then run over their chest, and gone again.

And then slide along the inside of their thigh, and again, gone.

Their mouth is free, but they promised, they promised themselves they wouldn't beg, just minutes ago when they'd heard the door open...

"You're really something else," Whumper tells them, and that makes them whimper again, helplessly, because this can't be happening. Not really. One moment they were on their way to Caretaker's, the next—

They don't know. They were just here, blindfolded and confused. But surely Caretaker will come for them. They will.

Whumper's breath ghosts over Whumpee's neck, and they flinch, swinging forward a bit, all their weight forced up on their aching tip toes, the rope around their wrists keeping them above their head cracking on whatever it's attached to.

"Wh...what do you want?" they ask finally, when they've gotten as steady as they can again, trying not to sound as desperate as they are.

Whumper takes Whumpee's chin in their hand, and pulls them forward, far too close.

They chuckle softly, as Whumpee wiggles, off-balance, and quietly say, "You."

Oh, Now You Want To Beg??

(Continuation)

@castielamigos-whump-side-blog Sorry it took so long to get to this continuation, but it's here now! I kinda lost all track of time. 😅

(tw: long term captivity, forced to beg, forced to watch loved one hurt, punishment, general torture mention, restraints, beating/caning, beaten until unconscious, knives, stabbing)

Continued from 'Learning to Beg'.

Whumpee’s shoulders burned. Their knuckles burned. Their jaw burned. Still, they jerked against the shackles that held them to the cement wall, screaming for Whumper to stop.

That was stupid. They were arrogant enough to try to say that wasn’t stupid. They’d lashed out. Punched Whumper square in the nose the moment they got a hand free.

Did they try to hide that they had wriggled loose from the ropes? No. Did they lie in wait to escape after Whumper had left? Also no.

Instead they were a fucking idiot and just hit Whumper at the tiniest provocation.

Well. Maybe not tiny.

Whumper had gripped them by the jaw, cooing all too sweetly, “Well don’t you look adorable tied up like that? I love seeing you so pathetic.”

Aaaaaaaaand that was it.

Plan gone.

Only brain cells for punch.

Whumpee was such a fucking idiot. And now Caretaker was paying for it. Again.

Whumper knew all too well now that the best way to hurt either of them was to hurt the other. They had long since given up on lying about that.

And now Whumpee was left, shackled and useless, watching flecks of blood spray the wall as Whumper ground the cane down on Caretaker.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Caretaker took it as best they could. They tucked into a ball to protect their head and stomach, but Whumper drove the cane down so hard that every dull ‘thnk’ was met with panting, gasping, and long, deep whines that Caretaker couldn't contain.

Whumpee tried again. “Stop! Whumper, stop! It was me. It was my fault. Hurt me!”

Whumper ignored them, continuing the thoughtless barrage. Whumpee could feel their anger seeping through the room. It leached into every stone. Every fleck of dust. Every atom in the air that Whumpee sucked in through frantic breaths. They could taste it. Feel it burning inside them.

Regret.

Fear.

Shame.

Again. The words came out shakier than Whumpee intended. “Whumper stop! You fucking bastard. Leave them alone!”

Whumper didn’t stop.

Caretaker was crying…The world was never as wrong as it was in that moment. Caretaker. Sobbing on the floor.

The image burned into Whumpee’s eyelids. No matter how they squeezed them shut, they still saw it. They could still see Caretaker twitching and wincing on the floor, matching the whimpers and small pleas. They’d never seemed this weak before.

It was wrong.

Tears were streaming down Whumpee’s face. “Whumper please. Please stop. This is my fault. This isn’t them. You’re mad at me, right?!? Hit me, not them. Please.”

To their surprise, Whumper froze. They lowered the cane, turning to glower at Whumpee. Fire still danced behind their eyes.

“Oh, NOW you want to beg? Too fucking bad.” They pointed the cane at Whumpee, emphasizing their point. “This is your fault.”

Then they turned, bringing the wood down across Caretaker’s back again.

Whumpee screamed at them. They yanked against the shackles until their skin split. They cried and begged, but it didn’t stop.

There was no stopping it.

After a while, yet not nearly long enough, Caretaker stopped moving. They stopped flinching. Stopped making sound.

Whumpee’s eyes went wide as Whumper kept beating them. Even as they went limp, rolling to the side at one of the blows.

“Please! Please, Whumper! Please, th-they can’t even feel it anymore!” They choked on tears, but swallowed it down, breath shaking. “Please - punish me. It was me. It was my fault. Please!”

Whumper - blessedly - stopped. They turned, chest heaving. Their jaw was clenched. Sweat trickled down their temple.

They glanced down at Caretaker before giving them one last, hard kick to the side that made Whumpee flinch. Whumper prowled across the room to Whumpee, chucking the cane to the side as they stepped.

Their words were low. Quiet. Far too quiet for the rage burning through them. “You’re really lucky I’m still pissed off enough to want to hear you scream.”

Whumpee squirmed under the gaze as the words sunk in.

They slipped a knife from their pocket, flicking it open. “You better say thank you before I change my mind.

Whumpee instinctively snapped their jaw shut, glaring at Whumper. They forced the defiance to crack after a quick glance at Caretaker, passed out on the hard cement. Blood spattering the ground around them.

They forced their eyes down, almost reverently, to hide the fury that built up in their chest.

They bit out the words. Painfully. “Thank you.”

Whumper acknowledged it with a hum. Then they struck.

Whumpee choked on air as the knife ripped through their flesh, scraping along their femur. White hot pain ripped through them as Whumper twisted the knife.

Whumpee gritted their teeth, squeezing their eyes shut. A scream was clawing up their throat, but they gritted their teeth against it, choking it down.

Whumper gripped them roughly by the jaw, forcing their face up. “Don’t you fucking dare. I want to hear you scream.”

Whumpee whined as their fingernails bit in.

“Don’t hold back. The moment you stop screaming, I’m carving them up instead. I don’t give a fuck if they can feel it. Got it?”

Whumpee’s eyes slid over to Caretaker again. They nodded.

“Good.” Whumper pulled the knife out. They trailed it across Whumpee’s hip, tip digging in against the bone. It split the skin.

“Scream for me.”

.

(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 )

16th hour — #2 Marked

Masterlist/ Previous

CW: themes of captivity, violence, sexual assault(not detailed) , and dehumanization.

Samuel's consciousness flickered like a sputtering candle as he awoke in the dim, grim confines of the transport truck. His limbs felt leaden, the remnants of the sedative dulling his senses. The air was thick with a pungent mix of sweat and despair.

He wasn't alone. As his vision cleared, he saw others huddled in the cramped space, their faces reflecting the same horror and helplessness that he felt.

A stifled sob drew Samuel's attention to a girl about his age, her shoulders shaking with each breath. Her eyes were red and swollen, tears carving tracks down her grimy freckled cheeks. Across from her, a boy thrashed against his cuffs, his voice a raw scream of defiance and fury.

"Fuck this! Let me out, you bastards! You can't do this to us! We're people, not animals!" His words bounced off the metal walls, unanswered.

"You fucking bastards! Let me out! Let me out!" His shoulders pounded against the walls of the truck, the sound echoing in the confined space. "I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you all!"

In the opposite corner, another boy had a girl pinned against the side of the truck, his intentions horrifyingly clear. Her terrified whimpers and pleas for mercy filled the air. He wanted to move, to stop the atrocity, but his limbs felt like lead, the sedative still dulling his reflexes.

"N-No, please... don't..." she begged, her voice breaking.

The boy's eyes were wild, filled with a mix of panic and desire. "Shut up! We're nothing now anyways. Might as well enjoy myself for the last time."

Samuel's stomach churned with a mix of fear and revulsion. He forced himself to move, his voice a raspy whisper. "Don't."

The boy turned his head towards Samuel, his eyes narrowing in anger. "Stay out of this pretty boy."

The girl looked desperately at Samuel, tears going down her eyes. Desperation fueled his movements. He stumbled forward, his body protesting every step. He threw himself at the big-bodied boy, their bodies colliding in a tangle of limbs. They hit the floor hard, the impact jarring Samuel's already aching side.

The boy looked like he was about to punch Samuel if only his hands weren't cuffed behind him. The attacker snarled, his hands closing around Samuel's throat. "You should have stayed out of it, hero." His grip tightened, cutting off Samuel's air. Spots danced in his vision as he struggled, his hands clawing at the man's wrists.

Just when the other boy could take any other action, the truck lurched to a stop, throwing everyone off balance.

The doors swung open, blinding light flooding the space. Uniformed men began pulling the captives out one by one, their expressions devoid of compassion. The girl that was about to almost get raped by the boy mouthed a thank you though it seemed broken.

The outside world was a stark contrast to the darkness of the truck. They were in a large, enclosed compound, the high fences topped with barbed wire. The air was thick with the cries and shouts of other captives, a symphony of suffering.

He was lined up with the others, their fates hanging by a fragile thread. The compound was a cacophony of fear and confusion. Captives of all ages and backgrounds milled about, their expressions a mix of shock, anger, and hopelessness. The sobs of "I don't deserve to be here." and lifeless voices of "Why am I here...?"had filled the room.

A stern-looking man in a uniform walked down the line, his cold eyes assessing each captive with dispassionate precision. He was flanked by guards, their expressions as hard and unforgiving as the concrete beneath their feet.

"Why are you doing this to us?!!" A guy demanded, her voice shaking from anger and fear. "YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO US!!"

Somehow seeing this rose up the voices of other people, as they tried pushing and breaking the cuffs behind them. The middle-aged man simply hummed, before swishing his hand to a guard.

The uniformed man smiled looking over at the clipboard in his hand, but the smile was a cruel, empty expression. "You're 'L,'" he said, his tone filled with proffesionality.

Before he could respond, a guard stepped forward, a branding iron in his hand, its tip glowing red-hot. The boy screamed as the iron seared his flesh, the stench of burning skin filling the air. His cries echoed through the compound, a harrowing reminder of their new reality. The guy buckled to his knees with small sobs, unable to hold his weight any longer as some officers dragged him away. The branding had left a cruel "L" on his shoulder, marking him less than human.

The other captives recoiled in horror, the entire place filling with uncomfortable silence. Some were weeping openly, others staring in stunned silence. Samuel's heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. He knew his turn was coming, and the thought of that searing pain made his stomach churn with dread.

After a few torturing hours, his legs were basically throbbing with pain from standing for too long. The line had been going on, with the man marking with certain people as "L", "B" or "S", which was followed with agonizing screaming and crying that managed to send a flinch down Samuel's spine every time. He tried thinking about what they could've meant but every time he was interrupted by either shouting or the cracking of a taser when people became too violent.

"Step forward," the guard commanded, his eyes locking onto Samuel.

Samuel's legs felt like they were filled with lead, but he forced himself to move. He stumbled forward, his entire body trembling. The guard with the branding iron stepped up, the heat radiating from the iron making Samuel's skin prickle. The stout man looked at Samuel, and was just about to say something before Samuel cut him off.

"Can I ask something?" He blubbered out before he mentally slapped himself for thinking without speaking. The man only raised his eyebrow in question and signed his hand in a way as if to say 'go on.'

"I-Its just.. I-I thought the ones who were classified as livestock w-were the ones who were from lower class.." Samuel couldn't help but think how egoistic he must've sounded but right now that was the least of his worries.

"Samuel. Samuel Dawson. Son of Edward Dawson and Juli Wood. Mother passed away on your birth so your Father married Camila Fletcher. Your mother was classified as livestock." Samuel basically froze, his mind struggling to process what the man just said. He had been livestock by birth..?

The man simply smiled at Samuel, continuing with his now torturing claims. "Spotted many a time taking pity on livestock. Having arguments about livestock having rights. Secret letters to the government as well to consider dropping down the livestock system. My, my Mr. Dawson. And you ask why you're livestock."

The man laughed, though Samuel didn't think it was funny. "We cannot have anyone disrupting our system. It is the way it is and it will be as so in the future as well."

Before he could react, the man nodded and the guard pressed the branding iron against Samuel's shoulder. The pain was instantaneous and excruciating, a fiery agony that made him scream until his voice was raw. His vision blurred with tears, the world narrowing to the searing torment and the smell of his own burning flesh.

When the iron was pulled away, Samuel collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath. He was dimly aware of the others being branded, their screams mingling with his own. The agony in his shoulder was overwhelming, a constant, burning reminder of his new status. He looked at his shoulder, and the disgusting sight of broken flesh and blood among a red covered "L" made him want to puke.

Just when he thought it was over, the man in the uniform frowned, looking at the mark on Samuel's shoulder. He gestured to another guard, who approached with a different branding iron, this one marked with an "S".

"No no nononno!!" Samuel tried backing away. What the fuck was going on?! He already got branded! Fuck he can't do this again!!

"There's been a mistake," the man said, his voice devoid of any hint of apology or compassion. "You're not an 'L.' You're a 'S'."

Samuel barely had time to comprehend the words before the second branding iron was heated. Unlike the first guard, this one moved more methodically, examining Samuel's shoulder for a spot not marred by the initial brand.

Before Samuel could react, the second branding iron pressed against a fresh part of his shoulder, the tip glowing with the same cruel heat. The second iron seared into his flesh with a new level of agony, the pain even more unbearable as the two brands burned into his skin. He screamed again, the sound raw and primal, tears streaming down his face as he felt his consciousness waver.

Samuel's vision swam with spots, the pain overwhelming his senses. When the iron was finally removed, he collapsed completely, his body unable to take any more. His mind drifted in and out of consciousness, snippets of conversation filtering through the haze of pain.

"Get him to the holding for 'S' class." He heard someone say, but he couldn't see who it was. The words were getting more distant or was it the people who were? There was a strange ringing in his ears and he could feel something cold dripping down his arm. He tried to lift his head, to see who was speaking, but his body felt heavy and unresponsive.

The coldness spread through his veins, numbing the agony, but leaving him disoriented and weak.

Samuel's breath came in shallow gasps, his chest rising and falling with effort. His eyelids grew heavy, the world tilting dangerously around him. The voices of the guards and the other captives melted into a distant murmur, fading into the background like an elusive dream.

And then, with a final, desperate attempt to stay conscious, Samuel succumbed to the overwhelming exhaustion and pain. His body slumped forward, darkness swallowing him whole.

He had always been scared of the dark but this time he felt comfort in it. As if it was keeping it away from the troubles that seemed to keep mounting up on him.

Taglist: @anutz1234 @ash-reh @whumped-by-glitter @catnykit @morning-star-whump

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@nuriiz134 @fox-fox234 @carosbee @writingphoenix @carolinethedragon

@birch-pictures@fable-bug-real @possumhoe @evagran @somebody327

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@demetercabingreen-thumb @noeul-whumpppssssss1234(let me know if you want to be added or removed <3)

Reblogs are appreciated :)

Oh how I love defiantly obedient whumpees. The ones who do what Whumper says but are full of spite. The ones who spit out the word “sir” at the end of each sentence, or wait until Whumper goes to strike before dropping to their knees. The ones who use sarcasm and humor in the worst moments, only succeeding in pissing Whumper off more. I love the ones who do as they’re told, but ensure that Whumper must fight them each step of the way.

How do we feel about caretaker having to take whumpee prisoner because of opposing sides but they still look after them and the whumpee is like so scared and the ✨A N G S T✨

anon you have unlocked whump GOLD 🤩 I don’t vibe with every captivity scenario but this one ✨HITS ✨

the fear in caretaker’s eyes matches the fear in whumpee’s, and all they can do is whisper “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry” under their breath as they lead them to their captors.

caretaker lightly holding whumpee’s arms behind their back: firm enough to look convincing but gently enough that it doesn’t hurt. still, they can feel whumpee trembling under their fingertips, knowing what comes next.

when whumpee is led away from caretaker, and casts one last terrified look over their shoulder, so scared and small-looking that caretaker feels their heart shattering.

caretaker watching helplessly as whumpee is brutally, mercilessly interrogated for answers caretaker knows they don’t have.

caretaker volunteers for night shift after night shift to guard whumpee. they’re woefully sleep deprived, but no one is hurting whumpee on their watch.

caretaker sneaks whumpee a little extra food and a blanket at night, after all the others have gone to sleep.

caretaker feels guilty af when they have to take the blanket back in the early morning hours before anyone wakes up - and it nearly crushes them when they see a sleeping whumpee curl up tighter as they try to retain the heat they’re losing.

caretaker finally stepping in to stop a particularly personal line of questioning: “no. stop. that’s enough.”

caretaker walks them back to their cell and secretly slips their hand into whumpee’s and gives it a squeeze. whumpee squeezes back, and caretaker doesn’t miss that whumpee holds it a beat too long before letting go.

caretaker fighting back tears as whumpee rocks themselves back and forth in the corner, singing softly to themselves. if only caretaker could just give them a hug-

THE GUILT CARETAKER FEELS THE WHOLE DANG TIME

when whumpee gets sick, and caretaker desperately tries to obtain any bit of medicine to help. when they bring what little they find, whumpee looks at them with such fevered gratitude that caretaker can hardly bear it.

that night, caretaker says to hell with the consequences and gets whumpee and themselves out of there.

whumpee’s so exhausted from the ordeal that caretaker has to carry them out in the dead of night.

let’s not forget the night they have to spend in the woods on their way to the safe house, caretaker curled around whumpee’s body to keep them warm.

when they reach the safe house, and caretaker refuses to leave whumpee’s side, nursing them back to health and staying with them around the clock.

when whumpee is finally out of the woods, a guilt-wracked caretaker collapses into whumpee, hands clutching the fabric of whumpee’s shirt, sobbing about how sorry they were.

“we should I have left sooner - I should have done more - I could’ve done something….”

whumpee swallows around the lump in their throat and tentatively strokes their caretaker’s back. “shhhh,” they whisper soothingly. “it’s alright. it wasn’t your fault. you did what you had to. and hey,” they smile weakly, thumbing the tears away from whumpee’s cheeks, “you got me out, didn’t you?”

caretaker nods, but they still don’t let go of whumpee for a long time after that. and whumpee doesn’t let go either.

'You call the shots, babe I just wanna be yours'

“Good morning, Whumpee.” Whumper walked into the room, letting the door fall closed behind them. Their hands were clasped behind their back in a businesslike fashion.

Whumpee shifted in the confines of their cage, short enough that they had to sit- or kneel, by Whumper’s demand- and suspended in the air at about waist height. They had been left there for long enough that they didn’t know how much time had passed. That being said, they were a little salty.

“Found the time to visit? I thought you were far too busy. I’m not getting in the way of your appointments, am I?” They reclined in their cage as much as they were able to, pretending like the bars didn’t dig into their back.

“Oh, don’t worry, I cleared my whole schedule. I want to take my time with you.”

“How considerate.” Whumpee took a deep breath and yawned, hopefully looking bored. “Sadly, something came up while you were away, and I actually have to cancel on you. I hope you can understand. Which way to the exit?”

“You talk too much.” Whumper frowned, though the lack of any actual anger sent red flags flooding through Whumpee. “Luckily, I have just the thing to break you of that.”

They unclasped their hands from behind their back, revealing a leather muzzle dangling from their fingers.

Whumpee slammed themselves as far away as possible. The cage swayed unsteadily on its chain. “Absolutely not- you are not putting that thing on me.”

Whumper took a step closer, eyes glinting as Whumpee shrank further into themselves. “Oh, doll, do you think it’s a choice you get to make? What have I told you?”

Whumpee swallowed heavily. “I belong to you. I exist to- to please you.”

Whumper hummed in agreement and reached out.

“But- but you said you like to hear me scream,” Whumpee said desperately. They cringed at the flimsy argument, hating themselves for it. Hating themselves for the warring inside of them between obedience and rebellion. Hating that they were considering obeying at all.

“Oh, I do.” Whumper grinned. “And believe me, I will make you scream soon enough. But today I want to see you obeying me, and to do that, I can’t have you talking back.”

Whumpee’s breath caught in their throat. As they stared at the piece of leather in Whumper’s hand, everything else seemed to fall away. They suddenly couldn’t gather much thought past the repetition of what it was, trying to make sense of it. It was a muzzle. A muzzle. Like you would put on a dog that bit someone. The thought of wearing one was humiliating and degrading and so very wrong.

Their vision blurred.

“Whumpee? You still with me?”

Fingers snapped in front of their nose. They jumped, flinching. Whumper laughed and ran a thumb over their face. Whumpee quivered under the intimate contact that held them at the edge of panic. The hand drew back, and they found themselves leaning forward after it for half a second, desperate for the small comfort it provided. They quickly stopped themselves and pulled back again.

Whumper clicked their tongue. “Don’t pull back, you were being so good. Sweet. Come here for me, so I can put this on you.”

“I- please. No,” they whispered. Their eyes ached from holding back tears. They tried to muster up some courage, to say something clever, but nothing came to mind. They were numb with fear. Somehow, wearing that muzzle seemed like accepting Whumper’s crazy notions. If they couldn’t actively argue with Whumper, how long would it be before they started to believe them?

“Don’t be difficult.”

“It’s not being difficult for me to- I’m not a dog! You can’t make me wear that!”

Whumper raised their eyebrows, unimpressed. “You belong to me, don’t you? I can make you do anything I want, and it’s time you learn that. It’s perfectly reasonable for me to keep my belongings in line. Now, come here.”

Whumper’s tone edged into dangerous territory- the voice they used when they were done with Whumpee’s disobedience, and it would be punished if it continued.

Whumpee ground their teeth together and leaned forward, inches from the front bars of their cage. Whumper’s hands slid through, holding the muzzle.

They tapped Whumpee’s chin. “Open up.”

Whumpee did, closing their eyes. The bit slid into their mouth, weighing heavily on their tongue and not letting their mouth close properly. The leather stretched tightly over their face, digging into their cheeks and pulling at their hair while it was fastened behind their head. It would leave red marks, if not bruises.

Through the leather they felt Whumper’s hand on their face again, running possessive lines over them. Whumpee opened their eyes, shuddering at the sight of Whumper’s adoring grin.

“Oh, that silence is beautiful. I thought I’d like the sight of you like this, but this… you’re just so precious, Whumpee. With your eyes all wide and scared. That little crease between your eyebrows. You can’t talk back to me, can’t defend yourself. I might just have to keep you like this.”

Whumpee’s heart wrenched. Their eyes pooled with tears that fell before they could do anything about it. The tension seeped out of their muscles, leaving them empty and numb and wracked with sobs.

Whumper sighed dreamily and crouched level with them, cupping Whumpee’s face in their hands.

“How lovely,” Whumper murmured to them, tilting their face upward. “I can’t wait to see you break for me.”

Whumpee sagged against the bars, limp and pliable in Whumper’s hands.

——-

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