Little Red Whumpee

Their injuries go untreated and get worse until, eventually, they begin to scare even whumpee and they can't pretend all is fine much longer. In a moment of fear and weakness (and probably half-delirious already), they come to caretaker and ask in a quiet, pleading tone:

If you’re still desperately thirsty after having some water, you probably need electrolytes. There are many options - eat a pickle, have a gatorade (or whatever brand you prefer), add an electrolyte packet to your water, sprinkle salt on some watermelon, make a fun drink with coconut water.

"you could push me off if you really wanted to," whumper murmurs to them. their voice is soft, just like their hands, their body on top of whumpee. "you must really like this, huh? otherwise... hell, if you didn't want this, if i was forcing you, if i was raping you, then you'd be justified in killing me, wouldn't you? and you could. you could kill me if you wanted."

whumpee tries to scream. they try to fight. they know they can't, the drugs have taken all of their choices away, all of them, but they try anyway. the most that they can achieve is a quiet, pathetic whimper, and their head rolling to the side, limp and lolling. whumper captures their cheek in a gentle, soft palm, directing whumpee's head until it faces up again.

the kiss is deep, and warm, and horrible. whumpee lays limp and takes it, unable to do anything else. it's... worse, somehow. it's worse than the other places that their bodies are joined with awful, violating, wet heat.

The prompt is about to arrive.

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✨ And now, the new prompt!

[#FFF363 On Thin Ice]

This prompt has been brought to you by someone who wishes to remain anonymous; thank you very much! Tread carefully now; one wrong move and you'll be in trouble. Just how exactly did you end up in such a precarious situation? What was your goal, what pushed you here? Is it still in your sight while the ice creaks with your every step? And here we are, waiting with bated breath to hear the whole story.

.

.

.

* Because they're scared to say yes

* Because they've desperately wanted to say yes and are finally able to

* Because they're ashamed of what they're agreeing to

* Because they're frightened of the reaction they're going to get

* Because they're too injured / out of it to do anything else.

* Because they don't really mean it but feel like they have to agree anyway

* Because that's all they can manage to do without breaking down completely.

* Because they can't communicate any other way

I know (apologetically)

I know (condescendingly)

It's supposed to

Good

I'm sorry

It'll be over soon

Stop whining

And it'll get worse if you don't *insert threat*

Well it wouldn't have to if you didn't *insert mistake*

You're supposed to say 'thank you'

I love hearing you say that

This is nothing, I'll show you actual pain

Get used to it

You'll get used to it

Stop lying

At least you still feel it

Shut up

Why don't you beg me to stop, then?

Can't be that bad if you're still talking

I don't care

Did I ask?

It's the only way you'll learn

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whumpee knows how lucky they are. they know how bad it can be - getting fucked can hurt so much worse than this. unwanted sex can be a violent, awful thing. they've been raped before. this is nothing. this is just... this is just sex. they don't like it, they don't want it. they keep trying to figure out how to get out of it, and it doesn't work, but it's... it's fine. they can handle it.

sometimes they cry. they lay in bed with whumper and they cry. they shake. they flinch and look away and can't force themself to act like they're enjoying it.

and whenever this happens, whumper stops. they look so concerned. they peer at whumpee's face, cupping their jaw, stroking their cheek. "i'm not hurting you, am i?" they ask. they don't pull away, don't give whumpee any space. they just lay there, pressed against them, still. voice and hands gentle but everpresent. "does this hurt?"

"no. it- it doesn't hurt." and it's the truth. whumpee tries to smile, tries to spread their legs farther, make themself look more appealing. the sooner whumper finishes, the sooner this is over.

"good," whumper murmurs. "good. can you at least try to look like it, then? i know you're trying, but it's hurtful when you look at me like that. you know i won't hurt you. i can get what i need without hurting you."

Your stoic whumpee is just SO DONE with every bit of pain, and all the inconveniences, that they let themselves have a little cry (as a treat.)