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Okay but whump scenario where the whumper is forcing the whumpee to scream in order to draw out their friends.
The whumpee tied up, refusing to scream because it would spell doom for their allies. Whumper grins and says, "Oh, I'll make you scream for sure..." before they began to torture the whumpee. Beating them, slashing them up with a knife, whipping them, you name it. The whumper wants them to scream loud and clear to lure their team to the whumper.
Whumpee screaming from the pain involuntarily, tears streaming down their cheeks from both the torture and the guilt that their screams would inevitably draw out their team to their deaths.
Rather than whumpee being quiet/respectful/demure around whumper and more “normal” around everyone else, this whumpee is formal and reserved, is quiet and exceeding polite, around everyone except whumper.
Only when whumper and whumpee are alone does whumpee show anger, show desperation and fear, reveal everything they hate about themselves because that is the side of them whumper wants to see, and whumper will hurt them until they get what they want.
Perhaps whumper even claims it's healthy. Whumpee shouldn't be so repressed all the time, they say. All that negative emotion needs an outlet, they say. Pain will do.
What happens when Medic is patching up Whumpee with Caretaker's help. But it's crucial for everyone's safety that Whumpee stays silent, and there's not time to give Whumpee anything for the pain
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Whumpee who doesn’t even realise they’ve passed out before waking up. They were awake, dizzy, too hot, and then dreams start to creep in, and they’re not even aware that what they’re experiencing isn’t reality anymore. Until they wake up to a gentle voice. “Hush now. You’re alright.” Their hands are curled around warm wrists. Their skin slowly registering the soft bedsheets that weren’t there last time. That gentle voice… Caretaker. Where … what happened….
Something about how inherently embarrassing it is for a character to find out they've been delirious for an amount of time. Like, I just love how universal this trope is -- in almost every piece of media I've Consumed where a character is told outright or it's implied to them that they've been Very out of it and slipping in and out of consciousness for a while, the reaction is always oh god really?? The discomfort of knowing just How vulnerable they were.
Whumpers playing “7 minutes in Heaven” but by sharing Whumpees.
The first spin of the bottle picks the Whumper, then next the whumpee. Then 7 minutes free rein, aside from any hard boundaries the Whumpers have set (no blood, no marks, no severe damage, or just no killing them)
A pair of caretakers goes in under cover, and has to decide who will play the whumpee and who will play the whumper.
How many minutes can they stay till the rest of their team can surround the building and get everyone out?
Whumpers playing “7 minutes in Heaven” but by sharing Whumpees.
The first spin of the bottle picks the Whumper, then next the whumpee. Then 7 minutes free rein, aside from any hard boundaries the Whumpers have set (no blood, no marks, no severe damage, or just no killing them)
A pair of caretakers goes in under cover, and has to decide who will play the whumpee and who will play the whumper.
How many minutes can they stay till the rest of their team can surround the building and get everyone out?
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Idk if anyone is interested or even needs one but I just realized I have 8 invitations for AO3 that I've been sitting on for over 10 years now (which is crazy to think about)
So yeah if you want one, lmk
I feel like most people who want an ao3 account already have one at this point but I could be wrong
content: lady whump, lady whumpee, captivity, restraints, humiliation, conditioning, defiant whumpee
"My standard is high sweetheart, I hope your words are worth what I'll give you for speaking out of turn."
"My words are worth more than your miserable life," Whumpee spat, and Whumper backhanded her across the face. With her wrists chained to the ceiling above her, she couldn't defend herself from his… not wrath, there was no anger in what he was doing. His amusement.
"Are they?" he asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"I'll talk whenever I please—"
Another slap, and her head whipped to the side. Tears of humiliation were stinging her eyes. She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't. "You'll find that it's much easier to follow the rules of the house than to act out constantly. Your arms will go numb in their restraints, the blood from them will pool into your head, you'll get dizzy, you'll beg to be released… I've seen this process tens and tens of times. You're not special, sweetheart."
"Stop calling me that!" she snapped, and she was once again backhanded. His stupid rings were tearing at the sensitive skin of her cheeks.
"I'll call you whatever I want," he said, still not angry, still just a cat playing with a cornered mouse. She wished he would let her out of the restraints for a proper fist-fight. She would've demolished him. But she wasn't free, and he could just do with her as he pleased.
She glared at him. Wordless. He smiled.
"Nothing more to say? I'll gladly stay and slap you around."
She had to conserve her energy. There was no point to fighting a losing battle. Even though everything in her screamed at her to be defiant, to not give him the satisfaction of thinking she was breaking from a few slaps, she stayed silent. She would pick her battles.
"Good," he said. "This is a step in the right direction. Of course, you'll need to be much more obedient for me to release you from the restraints, but I find a few nights of sleep deprivation, a possibly dislocated shoulder, and hours of staring at white walls usually does the trick."
"Speak," he said graciously. She didn't. Instead, she spat at him.
That was the wrong move. He wiped his face, then reeled his hand back and punched her in the cheek. This wasn't an open-handed slap anymore, this wasn't just humiliating, this hurt.
"I'm a patient man," he said, and she could detect the anger simmering just beneath the surface. He wasn't all that amused anymore, and though that should've scared her, it just made her feel accomplished. "But I don't let much slide. You'll learn that with time."
With that, he turned around and left. Left her standing there, in the middle of the basement, arms stretched high above her head. He was right, she was getting dizzier by the minute. Still, she couldn't help but smile. If he wanted an obedient doll to play with, he had picked the wrong girl off the street.
Whumper has Whumpee at their mercy, and notices the latter's nervousness at what's to come. To calm them down, Whumper gently takes Whumpee's trembling hand in theirs. They caress it gently like a parent would comfort a child.
Before immediately snapping Whumpee's fingers backwards with a sickening 'crack'.
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