two post-whump whumpees who both went through noncon at the hands of their own whumpers but had different experiences trying to have lighthearted, platonic sex together in a way that doesnt trigger either of them. like, if whumpee A who was chained up/pinned down constantly, needing to touch/hold whumpee B a lot, and whumpee B telling whumpee A the spots they don't want to be grabbed at cause it reminds them too much of their whumper.
both of them being frustrated with themselves when they can't do certain things. being afraid whumper ruined it for them. taking it slow and needing to have so much patience for themselves and eachother. its not perfect, its messy and awkward and clunky, but its theirs.
whumper assaulting whumpee in whumpee's own bed and now they can't sleep there any more
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-"
"you don't have to," caretaker tells them, keeping their voice quiet and gentle. whumpee leans closer, their forehead pressing into caretaker's chest. they exhale in a slow, shaky breath, so relieved that caretaker can feel their body lose its rigid tension. "i don't- i'm worried. i'm really worried, i won't lie and say i'm not, i know something's going on. but you don't have to say anything. not until you're ready."
do you have any ideas for whumpee resolution arcs that don't involve killing whumper? or long legal battles?
yes absolutely!!
loved ones/found family - after the whump, Whumpee is taken in by their loved ones, or their rescuers/Caretaker, or a new team. While they can never erase what happened to Whumpee -- and they know Whumper is still out there -- being surrounded by the loving care and companionship starts to bring Whumpee out of their shell and back into the world. the healing is through connection and love
new life - after the whump, Whumpee is either forced to flee or chooses to go somewhere where they know absolutely no one. In this new place, they can be whoever and do whatever they want. Maybe there's a period of isolation at first, but Whumpee starts to try new things, talk to people they've never met, and make an entirely new life for themselves. the healing is through reinvention and reclaiming identity
mission-oriented - after the whump, Whumpee is driven by a new purpose. Maybe it's related to what they went through and making sure it doesn't happen to others, maybe it's simply because they came so close to death that they want to make every minute count. the healing is through action and dedication
mentor whumpee - after the whump, Whumpee meets someone who has gone through something similar, maybe even with the same Whumper. Helping this person/people reinvigorates Whumpee's passion for life and helps them heal themselves. the healing is through bonding and guiding someone, allowing them to see their trauma in a new light
revenge (with a twist!) - after the whump, Whumpee is hellbent on revenge. in the proces, however, they stumble across something new -- a person or a craft or a place. and in this new thing they begin to find fulfillment completely unrelated to Whumper, and while they may never forgive Whumper, their life starts to revolve around them less and less. the healing is through internal gratification and rediscovering something in themselves
just off the top of my head, would love for people to reblog with other examples, especially from their own OCs :)
caretaker helping whumpee to cover or change a scar left by a branding iron. either blotting it out completely with one big, new burn, or else carefully augmenting it to look like something else: turning whumper’s insignia into a crude spiral pattern, or a their initials into a butterfly. caretaker hates to do it, hates to cause whumpee such obvious pain, but when whumpee lets go of the leather strap they’re biting down on, they don’t beg caretaker to stop—they beg them to keep going. they just can’t have that mark on them anymore.
it's impossible. it's fucking insane. caretaker can't do this. they can't do it. and yet here they are, with the meticulously cleaned tool in hand, heated so hot it's glowing. they'd talked about this, extensively. over and over, they'd talked about it, and whumpee has been firm every time in what they were asking for, and who they were asking for it from.
i'm sure there are like- like plastic surgeons who do this sort of shit, caretaker had argued, and whumpee had rolled their eyes and said as if i could afford that. besides, the procedure shit, the meds, the strangers, i just- i can't. i need it to be you. i know this isn't fair. this is a fucking awful thing to ask of you, and if you really can't then i won't hold it against you, but i- please.
so here they are. and here it goes. and the sound of whumpee's screaming, the smell of the burn, it feels like a mistake as soon as it starts. the leather strap drops from whumpee's mouth, their scream coming clear and loud without the obstruction. caretaker is just pulling away to stop, even though the marks from whumper are only maybe three-quarters obscured, when they make out what whumpee is saying.
caretaker finishes the job. they finish the job, then drop the tool in a bucket of water, catch whumpee around the waist, and yank them in close, tight. they'll have to get medical help after this. they'll have to have the burns treated - they're serious, and infection is no joke with burns. but for now, they're going to hold whumpee hard to their chest, feeling them shuddering and sobbing but gripping onto caretaker with more strength than they should probably have.
"i'm sorry," caretaker gasps against whumpee's temple. "i'm sorry. i know that hurt, i- i'm sorry."
but whumpee just shakes their head. presses their face into whumpee's neck. "no. thank you. thank you, thank you." they gasp, jolting. nearly convulsing. their face is hot and wet against caretaker's skin. "tha- thank you."
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 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?"
Whumpee that was forced to call their Whumper 'master' or something similar during assualts and now asks their partner / sexually helpful friend to call them that title during sex as reclamation.
(first of all 'sexually helpful friend' has made me laugh every time i've scrolled past this ask thank you so much lmao)
"are you- are you sure?"
"i feel like i should be the one asking you that," friend says, and it's such a startling response that whumpee laughs.
"god, that's- yeah, there's a lot about this that is kind of fucked up, huh." whumpee buries their face in their hands. they heave a deep sigh and then sit up, looking at their friend. "but no, seriously, i- i don't want you to feel like you have to do this. i know it's weird, and it's fucked up, and we're sitting here with all our clothes on having this- this conversation, and this is the least sexy way to start this, but-"
"hey." friend reaches over and takes whumpee's hand, giving it a squeeze. their touch is familiar and known, grounding.
those hands have held whumpee's, have touched their whole body. they have never forced, never abused. the only time they've ever been rough or aggressive was when whumpee wanted them to.
"when we talked about this, i said yes." friend squeezes whumpee's hand again. "and i'm saying yes now, too. we have a plan for if this is a giant disaster. you want this, and i'm on board. besides." they wait until whumpee is looking at them again to raise an eyebrow. "you've done some weird sex shit with me because i wanted to try it. nobody here's judging."
it makes whumpee laugh again, loosening the tension, the anxiety in their shoulders. this is why, they think. this is why i came to you.
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.
