#abuse implication

good. you should be

Something in whump that I really love is the physical implications that a whumpee belongs to their whumper, no matter how it’s done. Possessive body language has always been key in expressing relationships between people to onlookers and here are some ways to show that in writing: 

(C.W. these traits are common in abusive relationships)

close off person’s body or trap them against a wall, get in their personal space 

say their name in a low, threatening way when they ‘step out of line’

run a knuckle down their cheek slowly, pleasant gentleness that could easily turn violent 

place one or both hands on their shoulders and give a light squeeze; remind them who they belong to

the casually invasive hand around the back of the neck or waist and watching them tense at the touch 

a firm handshake with their arm clasp 

looming behind them when they talk to others, staring anyone down if they get too close 

taking their hand and firmly massaging it - a sweet gesture in which both the whumper and whumpee know the real implication

always positioning the whumper’s body facing the whumpee, giving it a sense of coerciveness or intrusiveness 

the whumper’s lips tightening, eyes narrowing, or eyebrows tightening when the whumpee acts independently, and correcting that with a hand wrapping around their waist, a hand on their leg etc.

leaning down into the whumpee, lips almost grazing their ear

a discreet grip on their hair/playing with their hair expressionlessly 

pulling them closer with an arm around the waist/shoulder and the whumpee looking stiff and uncomfortable 

Virgil startled awake in the middle of the night. 

His heartrate picked up. He knew he had a nightmare, but he couldn’t remember what it was about. As much as he grabbed, it faded away, leaving him confused and scared. His eyes landed on the sleeping body behind him and his eyes widened. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, stumbling out of bed. 

“Virgil?” Janus asked sleepily. “What’s wrong, babe?”

He leaned over to turn on the lamp as Virgil rushed to find his pants. 

“I have to get home!” He yanked his pants on and looked around for his backpack. “Where- Where’s my stuff, where’d I put it?”

Janus, quickly waking up, hurried out of bed and grabbed Virgil’s shoulders. “Hey, hey,” he whispered, forcing Virgil to meet his eyes, “can you tell me where you are?”

“I’m at your house!” Virgil cried. “My parents are going to fucking kill me, I’m so late! I was supposed to be home hours ago!” He burst into tears, pulling away from Janus’ grip to find his stuff. 

Virgil’s heart slammed in his chest, his body hot with dread. He didn’t want to be locked in his room again. He didn’t want his parents to take away food again, or accuse him of abandoning them. 

“Virgil, hey, come’ere a sec.” Janus grabbed his phone and came over, showing Virgil the home screen. “See the date? It was just a nightmare. You live with me now, remember? Your parents can’t hurt you.”

Virgil blinked. He felt like passing out, whiplash making his head spin. “What?” He asked softly. It clicked, and he groaned. “God, I... Fuck. I’m so sorry, Jan, I-”

“It’s okay.” Janus pulled him into his arms and kissed the top of his head. “Picani said this would happen, remember? But you’re okay, my love. Come back to bed?”

Virgil stripped back down to his sleep shirt and cuddled under the covers with his boyfriend. Janus turned the T.V. on and turned on Virgil’s favourite Minecraft playlist, spooning him. 

Virgil was out in minutes.