Little Red Whumpee

Suddenly they feel Whumpee's breath hitch and their shoulders shake. They frantically move Whumpee's face from their chest, searching for any sign of suffering, and they're met with red-rimmed, wet eyes.

"Hey, hey... What's wrong? Talk to me, come on... Do you feel worse?"

Whumpee can barely get air into their lungs as they let their tears fall freely. They shake their head, squeeze their eyes shut and bury themself back under Caretaker's chin.

They're exhausted, in pain, cold and so damn useless.

Whumpee is given a word. A single word that dictates when they've got permission to speak. It's been weeks since they last heard it. Caretaker keeps asking them to say something. Practically begging them, but they won't say the word.

Of course they won't. They have no way of knowing what it is, but Whumpee can't find their voice without it. It's so deeply engrained in them that not even Whumper's death can fix it.

the laugh surprises whumpee. they can feel how weak it is as it rattles in their chest, but it's real. it's unexpected, and it's such a relief to realize that it's happened that whumpee can't help it - they tip sideways, their head knocking into caretaker's shoulder.

somehow, it feels okay. they feel okay. they got that horrible message, and their instinct had them turning to show caretaker before it could hardly process. they'd felt that awful pit open up in their belly, ready to swallow everything inside them, but caretaker had stopped all of that in its tracks. it was like they had made whumpee see just how pathetic whumper really was - still trying to control them like this. like whumpee's life was theirs to ruin.

whumpee has been coming over to caretaker's place night after night, lately. most every night, in fact, for the last couple of weeks. they don't mind at all. this is typical for them - it's why they have each other's keys in the first place. some nights whumpee sleeps curled up on their couch, some nights they sleep beside caretaker in their bed. this is something that they've done before too, frequently, but not like this. not every night, and not with the other strange things that come along with it.

nightmares. shaking. flinching. the way they never seem to turn the lights on in the bathroom. the way they're never going home at night.

one night, whumpee had started out on the couch, woken up in a panic, and come in to lay down with caretaker in their bedroom. caretaker is looking at them through the dark, rubbing their thumb gently back and forth on whumpee's blanket-covered shoulder. worry sits, thick and heavy, in their throat.

"i can't talk about it," whumpee whispers, finally. they're trembling faintly, laying close enough that caretaker can feel it. "i just- i can't. i'm sorry. i-"

whumpees in collars 😍

whumpees with gags 😊

Whumper backhanding Whumpee every time they speak, so Whumpee has to stay completely silent.

Whumpee A knows some sensitive, confidential information and Whumpee B is A's [insert relationship type here], so Whumper kidnaps both and tortures B to get A to talk.

Whumpee is on the floor, lying on their side. Whumper walks up to them and kicks them HARD. Whumpee wraps their arms around their middle, curling up protectively.

Whumpee being presented to Whumper by henchmen. Whumpee is standing in front of Whumper with their hands tied behind their back. Henchman aims a kick at the back of Whumpee's knees, causing them to fall to their knees painfully. Henchman puts a strong hand on Whumpee's shoulder, preventing them from getting back up.

Whumpee sharing the whump with Caretaker. Whumpee, still very traumatised, struggles to get it out. Caretaker patiently waits and gently reminds Whumpee that they don't have to talk about it if they're not ready.

Whumpee A is an older sibling, and Whumpee B is a younger one. They are both locked in a cell. Whenever Whumper or a henchman comes in, A pulls B behind them, hiding their younger sibling protectively

Whumper is constantly touching Whumpee - pulling their hair, grabbing their chin, resting their hands on their waist, squeezing their thighs.

unless it’s itself enough

to get haters, so

One squirming uncomfortably, face averted, wishing to be anywhere else but not daring to draw too much attention to themselves.

One straining to break free, eyes narrowed, maybe even teeth bared and ready to snap at whoever comes close.

One thrashing desperately, caught in mindless panic.

One limp with exhaustion, held upright only by the restraints but nonetheless glaring when their head is lifted.

One stiff and still, anxiousness still in the process of being carefully concealed.

One trying for relaxed, dismissive, complaining of discomfort with forced lightness.

One actually relaxed, waiting patiently for nothing in particular, knowing only that everything is out of their hands and thus no longer their concern.

One who seems barely present at all, unfocused gaze somewhere on the ground, body limp as their mind seeks sanctuary far away.