#whumpees in suits!!!!

[liar-or-lawyer]

[veryspecificwhump]

imagine a tiny whumpee tied up and being dragged around like the little worms on string.

[corpwhump]

For your song game; Me and Mr Wolf by The Real Tuesday Weld

Perhaps a little unconventional, but:

Two whumpers that trade off being whumper and whumpee. Two whumpers that revel in a daytime game of cat-and-mouse, where they compete to see who will end up in chains that night.

A normal looking conversation at the bar between them in public conceals sly attempts to drug each other. Maybe they come home late at night to the other person lying in wait in their living room with a rag soaked in chloroform and cuffs hanging from their belt, hiding behind the door just waiting for it to open. Maybe the one who came home sees the faint imprints of boots on their normally spotless floor, and smirks a bit before grabbing a kitchen knife, ready to go out and meet their companion.

No matter who wins, after each night of screams from whoever was bested, the victim is let go, and a twenty-four hour grace period goes into effect for them to recover before the next game.

They both know it's dangerous, they both know that one of them is likely to die if they keep this up. But they love it. They can't resist egging each other on: it gets more dangerous every time they play.

A restaurant date conceals bandages beneath their sleeves, scars beneath a nicely-pressed collar. One of the whumpers absently plays with their steak knife; they know their drink was drugged when they left to go use the bathroom. They know the other whumper so well at this point that this version of the game has started to get predictable. Boring. Their date questions what they're thinking about.

They sigh, and then look up with a smile, a dangerous glint in their eye.

"You know what? Why don't we up the stakes a little."

[whumpberry-cookie]

hi i'm that trigun whump anon haha i'll call myself that XD trigun stampede has so much angst, it's like every week it gets worse ;_;

but if you will be interested in watching more, trigun anime from 1998 has more lighthearted, funny scenes and interactions! especially between vash and wolfwood, that's my fav ship so i kinda had to mention it ^^ but it still has angst and i mean it, especially in the second half of the anime. it has whump too!

98 anime is finished and it's just another adaptation/ alternative version of the story and it isn't any prequel to trigun stampede, so you can watch it on its own. it aired long before manga was finished so it differes from the source material (i didn't read manga yet but i'm definitely going to :))

Ahh!! You were so right, Trigun Whump Anon!

I love the show so much and my heart's bleeding at the same time fjjajfjanfjwjd

And thank you for letting me know! I'M IN SERIOUS NEED for some VashWood fluff/comedy/bonding moments. I'll watch the older version too for sure!!

(I also really enjoyed noticing these small moments when Vash's upside-down or his glasses reflect the light and it really gives the vibe of the design from 98)

I'm so happy we can be fangirling over this show together cnsnckajfjandndjsjxj!!!

VashWood's superior :)

[redd956]

20 Clothing Things in Whump

Pins inside of collars to keep people's chins up and alert

Caretaker's being known only by their eyes due to a medical face mask

Wearing concealing clothes or masks to hide previous scars, open wounds, or visible curses

Face masks, covers, and muzzles to "protect" others from a nonhuman character

Bangles, jewelry, and grandiose decor hanging off of a pet whumpee

A curse that puts a visible marking on the skin, growing in complexity as it continues to spread. New ways need to be found to cover it up, and soothe the pain.

Harnesses that are a little to tight. Corsets that make it a little hard to breathe. Chokers that are way too snug.

Bulletproof armor that is completely pierced through, blood starting to spurt out.

Jewelry that is so heavy it causes its wearer to bow their head or always keep their arms low.

Clothes that no longer fit right, leaving their wearers swimming them. If only they still had the weight.

A soldier screaming from inside their power suit, the disabled electronics unable to let them free.

Whumpee running away from their whumper finds their clothes caught on something.

Caretaker wrestling the helmet off of a slumpt body, to see if they're still breathing.

Wiping blood off of their visor, trying to see the wound they're patching, only to have to wipe again.

A battered and beaten set of armor stumbled its way in, their knees buckling, and the scrap of materials of meeting the flooring cried.

Whumpee successfully escape but now their torn and tattered clothing leaves them exposed to the elements.

Caretaker throwing their jacket onto a hypothermic whumpee.

Jewelry that is sharp enough to cut skin.

Whumpee mopping up their own sweat with removed articles of clothing while undergoing heat exhaustion.

Caretaker pulling back whumpee's hoodie to find chunks of whumpee's hair missing

[cepheusgalaxy]

You know what is a trope i LOVE?

nonconsensual "prettyfication"

Like. When Whumper picks their clothes to make them pretty (doesn't even have to be with a specially good-looking whumpee. they dont look special. but they WILL) and picks jewelry to accentuate the color of their eyes and dresses them up like a fashion doll and pick something that looks kinda cute or just a suit with some nice hair acessories. Doesn't have to be in an Intimate Whumper way. Just. Whumpee is theirs. So they are gonna take them to a gala to show off their weapon/pet/new servant/slave/whatever and have whumpee looking Nice. And they do! But they don't want to. Making whumpee cut or grow their hair to a style that frames their face better or smth. Against whumpees will bc theyd never wear that. Although they do look pretty.

Idk i just. Going crazy with todays prompt (put on display) and drawing so many stupid iterations ANYWAYS

[whumpster-dumpster]

A sweet/innocent/inexperienced/idealistic whumpee does not automatically make them a weak and stupid whumpee! They're unsuited to their harsh, twisted environment and that is in no way their fault! That environment shouldn't suit them because that environment shouldn't exist! They're not weak or stupid just because they don't naturally adapt to become cynical or hard-edged for survival! Retaining some measure of sweetness and innocence despite these conditions makes them stronger than you know!

[a-class-attempter]

Whumpee collapsed on the rough forest ground, their suit tattered and covered in dirt. They had been walking in the unforgiving heat for days without food or shelter, living off muddy river water. They just couldn’t do it anymore. After a few hours, a voice cut through the woods. “Whumpee? Why don’t you come back so we can have a chat.” Whumpee laid there, motionless. They would have cried if they had the energy.

Heavy boots crunched the leaves beneath them as Whumper walked over and kneeled by Whumpee’s side. “Oh, you poor little traitor.” They gripped Whumpee’s hair and forced them to make eye contact with Whumper. “You will never get away from me.”

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

WHUMP PROMPTS INVOLVING COLLARS

trigger warnings: torture, dehumanization, blood and gore, PTSD (everything in this is entirely fictional meant to inspire writers)

whumper making whumpee wear a collar with whumper’s own name on it, so that everyone knows who owns whumpee.

collar that will only keeps on tightening around whumpee’s neck until whumpee says please.

prong collar. except instead of a dog, it’s wrapped around whumpee’s neck.

whumper having two different collars for whumpee, one with the words “good dog” engraved on it and the other with the words “bad dog”, depends on how whumpee behaves that day — whumpee is terrified whenever whumper puts the “bad dog” collar around their neck, because it means they will get punished; and so they try their very best to always be a “good dog”.

whumpee trying to remove their collar by themself by scratching and digging their nails into their skin until they bleed.

collar with barbed wires that bite into whumpee’s neck each time whumpee moves or breathes. the chances of infection and necrosis are high if left on and untreated for too long.

whumpee not being able to stop absentmindedly trace their fingers over their bruised neck where the collar used to be, no matter how long it’s been since their rescue.

post rescue. whumpee having difficult time speaking, eating or drinking water due to the bruises around their neck that were inflicted by the collar they were forced to wear — this could cause them to stop talking or eating, or it could cause them to talk and eat less.

whumpee wanting (needing) whumper to own them. they beg whumper to please put the collar on them again. please please please please don’t abandon them.

whumpee having been brainwashed into thinking that having a collar around their neck means they’re not a stray. thus they think caretaker is going to abandon them because caretaker didn’t put a collar around their neck like whumper did!!!!

whumpee having a panic attack. they’ve lost their collar; the collar was their shield telling others to fuck off because “this one is already taken”. but now there isn’t a collar around their neck anymore, they are going to scent an unowned meat, and they are going to crawl out of the shadows to feast on whumpee.

whumpee attacks whumper, but they are abruptly stopped when whumper activates whumpee’s shock collar, leaving whumpee convulsing helplessly on the floor.

whumpee having PTSD from the collar where they, even without the collar, think they cannot breathe and so they start panicking.

whumper telling whumpee to wrap a collar around whumpee’s own neck by themself. whumpee having no choice but to obey when disobedience only means excruciating pain. they’ve learned their lesson the hard way.

whumper making sure whumpee sees themself wearing a collar by holding up a mirror in front of them. “look at you. surrender suits you. you’re so pretty with a collar around your neck.”

whumper letting whumpee choose which collar they want.

whumper, upon recapturing whumpee, holds whumpee’s old collar in their hands as they slowly approach whumpee. the sight of the collar alone is enough to break whumpee down.

whumpee having an episode in which they attack every doctor and every nurse who’s trying to help them. caretaker hates to do this, but they have no choice but to threaten whumpee by saying they will have to put a collar on whumpee again if whumpee isn’t behaving, knowing what whumpee went through during their time with whumper. it works because whumpee, despite trembling like a leaf, stops trying to hurt themself and the hospital staff right away. and the fact it works breaks caretaker.

whumpee burning their collar after they escape whumper.

caretaker applying salve on whumpee’s neck to ease the pain caused by the collar whumper made them wear.

whumpee being extremely paranoid and not letting anybody get close to their neck, without having a panic attack, after their rescue. caretakers are trying their best because, in order to properly treat whumpee, they have to be able to inspect the damage on whumpee’s neck so that they can offer treatment accordingly.

whumpee feeling the needs to always wear a scarf to hide the bruises around their neck that were caused by the collar whumper made them wear.

whumper making whumpee say thank you and kiss the back of whumper’s hand each time whumper puts a collar on them.

whumper clasping a collar around whumpee’s neck without no warning, catching whumpee off guard. by the time whumpee realizes what’s happened, it’s already too late.

whumper giving whumpee a collar that matches whumper’s dog’s collar. so now whumper has two pets!

whumper pulling whumpee in for a kiss on the lips, by yanking the chain attached to the collar around whumpee’s neck, eliciting an involuntarily moan from whumpee.

whumper touching their hand to the collar around whumpee’s neck, running their finger over it and leaning in to breathe the scent of whumpee’s hatred, fear, and possibly arousal.

[whumpdreaming]

I love gun whump <3 don't blame me. I just think it's really awesome when a messy, panicking whumpee is rapidly bleeding out!! Especially if they're wearing a suit!! There's a bang and then suddenly they're on the floor in shock and holy shit they just got shot !! And especially continuing to panic as another character tries to comfort them, or still trying to limp away while bleeding everywhere. <3<3<3

[secretlythegodofdesire]

Weapon Prompt 3

Sensory Deprivation

Blindfolds, entrapping Whumpee in darkness

Gags, all whumpee can do is muffle mixed sounds, not being able to stop Whumper

Maybe it keeps their mouth open, ensuring they dehydrate fast, or perhaps the opposite, trapping something intrusive in their mouth

Headphones, playing blaring music making whumpee go deaf

Or perhaps repeating a soft mantra, slowly hypnotizing whumpee into to submission

Perhaps they play a loved ones blood curdling screams, bonus if their live and whumpee knows it

Those strap suits they use at mental hospitals, but instead whumpee is hung upside down in one for hours

Plugging their nose, forcing them to open their mouth or they pass out, then shoving the intrusive object in your mouth

Feeding yourself can become a privilege, feeding tubes, through nose or mouth become medical whump.

When using the bathroom becomes a reward

[w4nd3r3r123456]

De-nailing?

I haven't written in a while and it was ticking me off so i pulled this tgthr. NOT PROOF READ. lemme know if i made any mistakes :)

Whumper returned the next day, flicking on the hallway lights as they entered the sullen blood painted room. Whumpee lay slumped in the corner, lowering their head further as the light flooded their eyes. “What, no greeting today either?” Whumper mused as they ambled closer, the soft clacking of their dress shoes coming to a halt as they knelt down, hooking the pliers in their hand under Whumpee’s chin, forcing their gagged head up. Whumpee obliged to the movement, their eyes still glazed over as Whumper chuckled at their dumb figure. “Guess I'll have to give you a smaller dose next time, huh? ” Whumpee heard the words, trying profusely to nod their head, being disconnected was always better than feeling every strike against their body and their aftermaths. Whumper sighed as he rose, stalking away as he pulled his trenchcoat off his suit and folded his sleeves up, stopping at the box of black disposable gloves that he kept on the only stand in the expanse. Whumpee managed a whimper as Whumper turned back with a falsely sympathetic smile, “ I had a shit day at work……… *sigh* our stocks dropped quite a bit……… you’ll help me out though, right? You’ll make me feel better?” Whumper pulled Whumpee’s limp body by their arm, pushing them down onto the wooden chair they were strapped into the day before. “You’ll cry for me, won’t you?” Whumper continued as he worked at the leather straps, forcing Whumpee’s wrists and ankles down. He paused as he began getting up, his eyes lingering on Whumpee’s face, lips already trembling as tears welled up in their eyes. “Oh? Tch, Angel, I know I said I wanted you to cry, but not over nothing.” He spoke, his fingers brushing across Whumpee’s cheek as the cold metal of the pliers met with their nail. Whumpee’s eyes widened at the sensation, their entire body shaking now as they tried prying their arm off the chair, begging through the gag. Whumper ignored their pleads, gently tugging at the nail on Whumpee’s thumb before snapping his head up, a sadistic grin plastering his face “This’ll hurt a bit” he was warning one second, the next, Whumpee’s hand was on fire, their fingers throbbing as blood slowly swelled up before dripping down the chair arm, their back arched as they pressed head into the wood, a muffled shriek ripped from their throat. Whumper cackled as he lifted the crimson nail to their own face, bits of flesh still stuck to it. “Four more to go!” his grin faltering as he watched Whumpee heave,eyes wide as tears soaked the cloth stuffed in their mouth. “Hey, you’d better not pass out on me.” He growled, his fingers curling into Whumpee’s hair and forcing them to look directly at Whumper. He dropped their head as he pressed Whumpee’s hand down, flattening it against the chair as he connected the pliers to their index finger. “ Don’t try moving your hand……… you’ll get yourself a shitload of nerve damage.” Whumper warned before wrenching the second nail. Whumpee’s world faded as they let out another gut wrenching scream, struggling against their restraints. “Three to go” Whumper hummed, tossing the nail to the floor, tilting his head deviously as whumpee tossed their head, begging for Whumper to stop. “ I finish the three today, you get a bath, dinner, and I'll let you sleep with me. Make me finish tomorrow, i’ll leave you in the chair all night and nail you down before pulling the nails from both your hands.” He didn’t wait for an answer before violently yanking at the third finger, Whumpee’s sobs getting louder as Whumper kept at it, occasionally prodding at the now exposed skin. “ There, was that really so bad?” Whumper’s voice suddenly echoed in Whumpee’s ears. They kept their head lowered, tears soaking their gag as they gasped through their cries, eyes never leaving their sore, throbbing, horrifying hand as Whumper pressed his lips to their head. “I love you”.

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #1340

@skiny406 asked:

Would you do a prompt where caretaker and whumpee have a huge fight, and then whumpee is hurt (stabbed, poisoned, whatever you want) and tries to call caretaker but they just don’t answer (either is busy or just mad) and later they got to hear the VOICEMAILS.

I thought of a string of voicemails. Feel free to change them to suit your injury/situation!

“Hey it’s me, I know you don’t want to talk to me but I- fuck I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, and If I can do anything, I will. I’ll uh- I’ll maybe talk to you later?”

“Hi [character], I hope you’re alright. Um. I know you don’t want to talk to me, and I do understand but- but I really need you to call me back.”

“I’m sorry. That’s selfish of me, you don’t need to call me back… it would just be good to hear your voice. I’m um, I’m sorry for everything. I hope you’re okay. Probably better than me right now, ha, but don’t worry, I’ll uh. I’ll be alright.”

“Fuck, ouch, alright. Hey [character], ah, would you- could- maybe call me back? It’s um. Shit I’m sorry, it’s not important, I’ll try [another character] again.”

*starts with the whumpee gasping for breath* “H- hi, it’s me, please, I know you’re mad, and you don’t want to talk to me again but I- I really need you to call me back.”

“Alright. Message received. You’re pissed at me- you’re fucking pissed and I’m sorry, alright? Just- pick up the phone. Please. I-I’m in trouble again.”

*there’s a pause with just some breathing. There are voices in the background.*

“Heeeyyy [character], sorry about the last one. Pocket dial hahah! Must have done it when I sat down.” *they stop to cough, it’s hacking and wheezy.* “I’m sorry. I really am- I shouldn’t have shouted at you, you didn’t deserve that. I’m in a bit of trouble… it’s’all a bit blurry, but- but I managed to get here on my own. Call me back… please?”

“It’s um. It’s not looking good. I- I just want to say I’m sorry, again, I truly am.” They’re gasping now, perhaps crying. “I’m sorry….”

“This is [nurses name] calling from [the hospital], [whumpee] has you listed as their emergency contact. Please call this number as soon as you’re available.”

*there’s another message. Just voices and the whirring of machines. Maybe some crying. There’s a muffled curse before it cuts off again.*

“… I miss you.”

“Do you miss me? I- I understand if you don’t. Just tell me you’re okay, please?”

“I can go home tomorrow. I’ve been given the all clear, I’m sorry for scaring you. I’ll um. I’ll leave you alone. I um. I understand, I’m a mess. You were right. Just - no - don’t call me back.”

[justbreakonme]

Signs of Change

Whumpee didn’t like it, when the seasons started to change. It still made him uneasy, knowing just how cold the nights could get and just how precarious his position could be. He was only safe as long as he was good, and the outdoors had no mercy.

But Caretaker did.

“Hey, Whumpee, why don’t you come in here? It’s warmer, since the stove’s going.” Caretaker’s voice broke through his thoughts, and he obeyed.

When he rounded the corner into the kitchen, the warmth enveloped him immediately. There was a large, silver soup pot boiling away on the stove, and the smell of onion and garlic and herbs and all sorts of things instantly made his mouth water.

“It needs to simmer for a bit longer, I think. Do you want to come sit with me?”

Whumpee nodded, and took a seat where he always did, across from Caretaker at the old wooden table.

“Not a talking day, huh?”

He shook his head, rubbing a fist in a circle over his chest.

Sorry.

“It’s fine, you’re good. I just like to check-in so I know.”

Whumpee couldn’t ever explain why sometimes words just, failed him. But, after his old owner, after being silent for so long, he sometimes felt…stuck.

“Do you feel like playing cards? I think we have enough time for a round of war…”

Whumpee nodded, dutifully turning to grab the cards from the little shelf in the corner. He liked cards. War was the first game they had played together, back when he’d first been bought rescued.

Caretaker had made it very clear that he wasn’t owned, anymore.

But he hoped maybe, maybe if he was really, really good, he could be. He had tried, once, to ask what he could do, if anything, to earn being owned again, but, the words had died in his mouth and he’d gone silent for days.

He understood why they didn’t want to own him, he wasn’t really worth very much. But, sometimes, he let himself believe that between him trying his very hardest and Caretakers inexplicable mercy, there might be a chance. Someday.

Caretaker handed him a stack of cards, and he brought the tips of his fingers to his chin, hand open and palm towards himself, then moved his hand out in front of him, almost in a swinging motion.

Thank you.

“You’re welcome.” Caretaker smiles as they play their first card, and he follows suit.

The game goes by quickly, and soon, the oven timer went off, making them both jump.

“Here, we’ll just scoot these over a bit and we can play while we eat. Would you grab the spoons?”

He nodded, carefully moving his pile of cards to the side and heading for the silverware drawer.

As Caretaker ladled out the soup, he placed a spoon at each of their spots, then, unsure if he should sit or wait for the next task, he hovered between the drawer and the table, wringing his hands.

As they turned to grab the bowls, they noticed his hesitation. “Go ahead and sit, I’ll bring the bowls over.”

Another tap-then-outward gesture of thanks, and he sat back down, watching as they carefully ladled out two bowls of steaming soup.

Carefully, they carried one bowl at a time to the table, oven mitts on.

“Ooh- don’t try to hold it, it’s super hot.” Caretaker dodged where Whumpee had tried to help set the bowl down, instead opting to set it down on the edge and scoot it over so it didn’t spill.

He rubbed his fist over his chest in a circle again, more frantic this time.

Sorry, sorry!

“You’re good, I just didn’t want you to burn yourself,” they returned to the table with their own bowl, tossing the oven mitts onto the spare chair after settling in, “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

He tried to mimic Caretaker, who was blowing gently on their soup, but the lump in his throat got in the way.

He wished, as he often did, that he could speak without speaking, in more ways than literally. He wished he could make them know things.

If he was patient and waited for his voice to return, or if he went to get one of the whiteboards Caretaker kept laying around for him, he could tell him that he would do anything for them. That they had his loyalty and devotion, his mind, body, and soul.

But he couldn’t make them know it the way he did. It snuck up on him, in moments like these, then hit like a tsunami.

His stillness must have caught their attention because they looked up. “You okay?”

He nodded, swallowing hard and smiling, then gave a timid thumbs up.

You don’t own me, but, I belong to you.

They grinned, giving him a thumbs up back, and another tsunami took his breath away.

But, that was fine. He’d let the soup cool on its own, and they would play cards, and for the first time in a very long while, he was able to forget the changing seasons and the morning frost.

It couldn’t touch him here.

Caretaker wouldn’t let it.

[whump-in-the-closet]

Haircut

content: forced modification, noncon haircut, creepy and intimate Whumper, I wrote this in a fever dream let me know if I missed any tags

Whumpee sat, slumped, on the stool. Defeated.

The bathroom light glowed faintly, and the blue reflection staring back at them from the mirror looked like a stranger. They couldn't stand to look at it.

The room was quiet except for the sound of scissors clicking open and shut in a deliberate rhythm that made Whumpee’s skin crawl.

Open and shut.

Whumper stood behind them, holding the scissors in one hand and a comb in the other. "Your hair’s gotten too long," they said casually. "It doesn’t suit you."

"I like it this way." Their voice wavered at the tiniest display of defiance.

Whumper chuckled, stepping closer. "You don’t get a say in that, darling. Not anymore." They ran the comb through Whumpee’s hair with slow, deliberate strokes, tugging just enough at their scalp to make them wince. "You’re mine to look after. Mine to shape."

Whumpee flinched as the first clipping of hair fell to the floor. It landed silently, a dark feather against the cold tiles, but to Whumpee, it sounded like a gavel striking. A verdict passed. Another piece of themself stripped away.

"See?" Whumper said, brushing the hair off Whumpee’s shoulder with a heavy hand. "It’s just hair. You’re making a big deal out of nothing."

It wasn’t nothing.

Whumpee clenched their fists, ragged nails digging into their palms as more strands fell, piling up around the chair like a cruel parody of snow.

"Stop," they managed, "Please!"

They tried to yank away, but Whumper’s hand was still on their shoulder, and their grip tightened, pinning them back into the chair.

Relentless.

Unyielding

"You’ll thank me later," Whumper said, their tone still infuriatingly calm. "Trust me, you’ll look better this way."

Whumpee bit their lip hard enough to taste blood. The sound of the scissors snipping echoed in their ears, louder than it should have been. Mocking.

When Whumper finally stepped back, they surveyed their work with a satisfied smile. "There. Much better. Don’t you think?"

Whumpee stared at their reflection, mouth dropping. You're kidding.

Before, their hair had fallen down their back but now Whumper had cut it short-- the jagged edges barely brushed the tips of their ears.

Their hands trembled, hovering near their head. They couldn’t bring themselves to touch it.

"I hate it," Whumpee said, their voice barely above a whisper.

Whumper’s smile widened, their eyes gleaming with something dark and victorious. They leaned in close, their breath hot against Whumpee’s ear. "I didn't ask what you thought, darling. You’ll learn to love it. Or not. Either way, you’ll wear it how I want."

Whumpee blinked back tears.

Whumper straightened, brushing stray hairs off their gloves. "Go clean yourself up," they said lightly, turning away as if nothing had happened. "You should look presentable when I take you out later."

Whumpee didn’t move right away. They sat frozen in the chair, staring at the tired stranger in the mirror; at the scattered pieces of themselves on the floor.

The room felt colder now. Emptier.

The AC buzzed; the air now cold on the back of their exposed neck.

Finally, they stood, legs trembling, and began to sweep up the hair.

[thewhumpcaretaker]

💖 Whumpee in Dress Clothes 💖

There's such a unique feeling to dress clothes. I want to talk about characters having a bad time in them.

Getting dressed early in the morning. Waking up an hour early to take care with their appearance and fussing over every detail, getting frustrated with hair and makeup before they've even had their coffee. Struggling with buttons and zippers. The fear of being late.

Smelling like too much perfume/cologne, which is even worse if someone else chooses it and it isn't a scent they like.

A face covered in makeup bothering a whumpee with sensory issues.

The feeling of the fabric - obviously expensive, smelling like a dry cleaner's. Is it too nice for them, or is it perfectly fitted to their station? Either way, it makes them self-conscious.

Scratchy lace or wool.

Maybe it's light fabric, thin and gauzy. It makes them feel exposed. They can feel the air moving against their skin even without moving. They're at an evening event, shivering.

Or it's too heavy, layers of a vest and a blazer and an overcoat all in black at a funeral, and they're sweating, and their whole body feels heavy and constricted.

Collared shirts and ties that are too constrictive. Every second, they can feel that line of pressure at their throat, making it harder to breathe, making everything worse during a panic attack.

A too-tight bracelet or wristwatch. They can feel their own pulse and it's driving them insane. Such a fast heartbeat...

Constantly being afraid of sweating through a dress shirt or through delicate fabric. The fear just makes them sweat more.

The feeling of a vest wrapped around their torso reminds them how badly they want to be hugged.

Snagging a stocking or spilling something or ripping something feels like the end of the world. It makes them afraid to move.

It's even worse if it's their own blood that destroys those pretty clothes.

Shoes that pinch and hurt. High heels, or just hard, shiny dress shoes. Standing in them for hours. Being forced to run in them.

Everything somehow feels high-drama and performative. Embarrassment is heightened. If they're crying, they're not JUST crying, they're crying in a pretty suit/dress, which makes them so aware of how they look right now and how shocked everyone will be to see them break down. Maybe people have less sympathy for them because they look spoiled. They're not dressed for being miserable so they try to keep it together but they...can't.

This being the norm for a wealthy or royal whumpee. They don't even think about considering their own physical comfort because they think so much about their appearance instead. They end every day day sore and pinched and drained, and they don't even think to do things differently.