Ghost not fighting back when Roba's men assaulted him. Ghost disassociating and taking it because that's all he can do, unless he wanted to wind up dead. Ghost only just starting to heal with the 141. Simon starting to feel safe letting the others see him and the scars. Simon resting soundly tucked against someone's chest once they've done the cleanup part of aftercare. Simon getting nabbed in the field when he thought he'd get back up. Simon shutting down all over again as he comes to, freezing and without his layers to protect him. Ghost staring out at a small window, never once begging for it to stop, not saying a word at all. Ghost letting his tired head lay against the concrete as everything fades in and out. Ghost waiting for it to end once it's no longer satisfying. Ghost not pleading for the team to find him because he remembers that he had to pull himself out of this position before and he could do it again maybe.
Whumpee who's spent a very long time—maybe even their entire life—in an environment where insults and obsenities were so typical that they don't see anything wrong with them. Until they unintentionally offend Caretaker and are very confused by their reaction.
whumpee that will only sleep in small, hard to find spaces
whumpee that scares caretaker half to death by not being anywhere to be seen when they wake up, only to be tucked away in some nook or cranny, barely asleep
whumper who would keenly watch out for things whumpee liked so that they could snatch it up, because they loved to see the split second of devastation on whumpee's face, before they'd try to cover it up. depriving them of any and all comforts.
so once whumpee has been rescued, they always do their very best to hide their joy when something they find lovely is within reach. even though whumper would eventually realise when they liked something too much, maybe these people won't. they haven't known whumpee for as long as whumper did, after all.
when caretaker tries to query after whumpee's preferences, they clam up and give the answers as vaguely as possible— anything other than neutral and detached will be used to hurt them, honestly, but they'd eat a hundred of that wretched broccoli dish if it meant they could get a bite or two of their favourite every once in a while.
one day, caretaker reached out to gently ruffle whumpee's hair, and they have to stand so still in order to stop themself from leaning into the warm touch. they are almost overwhelmed by their longing to press back, but that will only make caretaker realise how much they love this, and then they might start pulling at their hair with the pretense of ruffling it. whumpee would undeniably fall for it.
so they shut up. they don't move. and they keep hoping that caretaker won't notice and put an end to it.
We all know and love Living Weapon Whumpees who are scared to hurt the people who accepted them, their team for example.
But what about Whumpees that do NOT care about that. They just see it as collateral damage, something that is either worth it or not. Who doesn't really mourn the teammate that died because of a decision they made or because of friendly fire.
hey. whumpee that is physically stronger/more skilled than whumper. but either due to restraints and/or maybe drugging is rendered completely helpless :3. you're stronger than me, aren't you? why aren't you fighting back? aren't you supposed to be competent? :3
"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.
"go on," whumper murmurs against whumpee's lips. "fight me off. you're so much stronger than me. you're so strong." another kiss. tears drip down the sides of whumpee's cheeks. one trickles into whumpee's ear and it itches but they can't do anything about it. "if i'm raping you, kill me for it. you know you could, if you really wanted to."
One of my favorite scenarios is a whumpee who's been violated before subconsciously seeking to re-enact their rape by hooking up with strangers. Or they always say yes to the people who hit on them, even when they don't want it, because it's... It's not rape if you say yes, right? Right?
god i love a character who self-harms with sex.
and like - they know the people they're hooking up with aren't assaulting them. that's maybe what makes how badly it affects them even worse, honestly. harder to handle. because they can't blame the people they're hooking up with, they feel so guilty for feeling so bad about it, nobody's doing anything wrong. (nobody but them.) (some of their hookups... yeah. there are things they should be noticing. whumpee is... reacting. and sometimes they get panicky and upset and the stranger they're having sex with just doesn't stop but they're not saying stop either, so it's still not exactly the stranger's fault, is it? it's not.)
they want to be treated like an object. they want it to hurt. they don't like it, but they want it, and then they get it, and it hurts, and they hate themself even more after. but they keep doing it. it feels like the only thing that they deserve.
"You're not leaving the bed for days after tonight"
whumper gloating before they assault whumpee about just how badly it's going to hurt - how bad it'll hurt, how injured they'll be, how they might not be able to resist taking them again when they're all sore and freshly bruised, maybe even torn.
"though that'd be pretty fucking annoying, i mean, i'm sure you'd whine a lot," whumper muses out loud.
whumpee, restrained on the bed, can't even fire something back through the gag. all they can do is make angry, protesting noises.
"even through that gag, see, you're annoying. i suppose i could just knock you out. drug you, maybe. but then i wouldn't get to see you react, would i? what's the point of fucking you when i can't even see how much it hurts. because that's the purpose of this. and i need you to remember that." they lean in close, whispering right beside whumpee's ear. "this is going to hurt you so much worse than you can imagine now."
Whumpee who has a teammate that reminds them superficially of Whumper and has to deal with the fact that they’re afraid of their friend who hasn’t done anything to them
god i love this. i have a thread like this in my fic history rhymes and digging into this is one of the things i'm the most excited for down the line. this got a little long :)
--
"it isn't your fault."
teammate looks at whumpee strangely, not understanding what they're talking about. whumpee didn't say anything before that, didn't preface this with anything. the energy in the room feels strange and heavy. sad.
"i know you've noticed it," whumpee goes on. "the way that i... when you.... yeah."
that's not any less vague than their opener, but teammate knows, this time, exactly what they're talking about. of course they've noticed, of course they have. whumpee.. flinches. they've flinched a lot since whumper, of course, but not like this. not like they do with teammate. they flinch consistently with teammate, shy away from them, their breathing picks up when teammate is near. unlike the rest of them, teammate doesn't try to comfort them anymore, not after the first couple of times.
"yeah," teammate says. they try to keep their voice neutral. they try not to sound hurt or confused or upset, though they've felt all of those things in spades. they weren't the closest on the team before this, but they were- they were close. they trusted each other. and now it's just them that whumpee is like this with.
they've seen whumpee clinging to the others, is the thing. confiding in them. just sitting on the couch watching tv. they've even seen them sleeping in bed with someone else a few times, when they've been up at night wandering around, kept up by their own troubles. it's made their chest throb to see that. they'd- it's not their place. they don't get to decide how whumpee heals. they don't get to force themself into a role that whumpee doesn't want them in. but... but they'd be lying if they said that they didn't wish it was their door whumpee came to when they felt unsafe. it would be something they could do to help their friend. there was nothing they could do before, nothing they could do when whumper was- but there's nothing they can do now, either, apparently.
"it's not your fault," whumpee repeats. they're not looking teammate in the eye. "i just- you deserve to know. because you... the way that i- look you just- you look like them. that's all."
"i look like..."
"like whumper. yeah."
teammate hadn't thought about it. they really hadn't. not until now. but as soon as whumpee says it, they can see it so clearly. they really, really do. fuck. fuck, they really do. they look like whumper.
they look like their friend's rapist.
"and i've been just hoping it would stop, that it would just go away, but it hasn't, and i just didn't want you to think you were doing anything wrong."
it's.... that's really fucking sweet, is what that is. teammate stares at whumpee, eyes wide and their heart feeling bruised in their chest. "i'm...." all they can think of to say is, "i'm sorry."
"it's not your fault."
"no, i just- i'm sorry that you have to live with that reminder. that's all. i wish i could... i don't know. if there is anything i can ever do, just tell me. i can dye my hair, i can cut it, not much i can do about most of... me, i guess, but. if you ever want me to, i'll try something. whatever i can."
now whumpee looks at them. the expression on their face is unreadable.
"there's one thing, actually," whumpee says. "one thing i'd- one thing i want you to try, if that's okay?"
whatever it is, teammate knows that they're immediately going to agree. change their hair, get a half dozen facial piercings, whatever it is, they'll do it.
"i- will you hug me? i think... i might flinch. but i... i don't want you to stop. i just. i want to see. i..." whumpee breathes in deeply, their shoulders rising and falling. caretaker just watches, speechless. "i miss you. so, uh. do you think you could? maybe?"
Whumper manhandling Whumpee, swinging them around and throwing them on a bed. Forcing them to be naked and ruining their favourite clothes. Hitting them to keep them down and roughly fingering them open.
Then when they're about to penetrate, mostly dry, Whumpee's sobbing "No, stop, please, I mean it, stop!" And Whumper just...does.
Maybe they apologise, and they "thought it was a roleplay" of sorts, maybe they just leave with a huff, maybe they just say "alright, damn" and go back to what they were doing before.
How is Whumpee supposed to react to that? All that violence and then it just stopped them they said stop? It actually worked? I can imagine that would still be incredibly traumatic and they'd sit there sobbing for a while if Whumper left. Maybe they question how much of the assault counted as a real assault because Whumper did stop when asked.
whumpee can't breathe. their chest shudders and jolts and their lungs burn and they can hear distant whimpering, wheezing sounds. the fact that they're the only person in the room is the only reason that they know where it's coming from - that it's their own mouth, their own bruised mouth, sore throat that's making those sounds. their skin feels too hot and too cold all at once. parts of their clothing have been ripped away and they should cover with a blanket, should get something new to wear, anything, but they can't move. they can't move.
it's not until the door opens that they realize it's still not locked. whumper didn't have a key. they'd left it unlocked.
"whumpee?" a voice calls out, cautious and confused.
relief floods through whumpee's body. shame prickles underneath it, but whumpee feels so wrung out and gutted that there's barely any room for any of it. there's certainly not enough room for the shame to grow big enough to force action. whumpee is too exhausted anyway. just rolling their head to look towards the door, to where caretaker walks in. they're already worried when they get there, but when their eyes take in whumpee, on the bed, clothes ripped, sprawled awkwardly, shaking and crying and still not able to breathe right, their worry turns to fear.
"oh my god, whumpee-"
"they stopped." for some reason, that's the first thing that whumpee manages to choke out. "they- they stopped. i- i don't know why didn't- but they stopped. they stopped, they- they stopped- they stopped. when i said stop, they- but not- i don't know. please." they don't even know what they're saying, what they might be begging for. "please. please."
whumpee with injuries from simultaneous rape and torture, left with chronic fatigue after the fact. but this constant, aching tiredness leaves them triggered because they always feel just as weak and spent as they were when whumper was actively hurting them.
[This one is so mean but I can't get it out of my head]
Whumper's friends are all having their way with Whumpee, being rough and brutal as they assault Whumpee, treating them like a toy. Whumper is forcing Caretaker to watch this happen, and they slip their hand into Caretaker's pants, forcing pleasure into their body and taunting them for being just like Whumper and "getting off" to Whumpee's torture. Forcing them to orgasm as many times as Whumper's friends have.
“Mmmm. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
It was a living hell.
Whumpee was being passed between Whumper's sneering friends like a ragdoll, body being manipulated into impossible and grotesque positions. Their hoarse cries and pleas for mercy bounced off the walls of the room, nearly drowned out by the jeers of the group assaulting them.
And Caretaker was sitting in front of it all, bound and utterly useless. Whumper's grip on their face ensured they had to face the scene, forced to witness every thrust and tear and desperate squirm. Caretaker's jaw ached from the gag stuffed in their mouth.
And then they felt it.
Whumper's hand, sliding without hesitation below Caretaker's waistband. Caretaker gave a muffled cry through the gag and jolted, but the restraints gave them nowhere to go as Whumper's fingers probed even more.
"You didn't think I'd leave you out of the fun, did you?" Whumper breathed into their ear. "No, all of us are going to get our due today."
Caretaker tried to resist it -- God, they tried -- but nerves fired against their will, stimulation forcing itself past their defenses and sending shudders through their body. Whumpee was forced to their hands and knees and Whumper's hand moved harder in their pants, giving a sick laugh against the back of Caretaker's neck.
"Don't pretend, Caretaker. You're just like the rest of us, aren't you? Getting off to sweet little Whumpee. I can feel it."
They pressed harder for emphasis. Caretaker didn't know how they were supposed to survive this moment, the torture of having their friend broken down in front of them, Whumper's hand exactly where it shouldn't be, their words worming their way into their head.....
And it just went on. And on. And on. Caretaker's body was pushed to its own limit again and again, all while the nightmarish scene continued in front of them. By the end of it, both Whumpee and Caretaker were sobbing, shaking messes.
I love when a whumpee isn't stoic but instead quiet. The pain, their anguish is so so so visible on their face, in their body language, and yet they make not a peep.
The Feelings Factory @muhahahahaaaaaaaa - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
