#domestic abuse whump | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

painsandconfusion · 1 year

Note

Hi! Love your writing!!

If it's not too much and you have time and want to, could you do a scene with an intimate whumper who's teasing whumpee for being scared?

Thank you!!!! (NO PRESSURE)

This is gorgeous. Yes. I love this prompt. Rip the other asks in my box, I have spoons for this.

Why Are You Scared?

(tw: intimate whumper, noncon touch, forced massage, forced comfort, implied abuse)

[Drabble Masterpost]

Whumpee flinched as the corner of their vision registered Whumper standing in the doorway.

Just...watching.

Predatory gleam in their eyes.

Whumpee swallowed thickly, grabbing the remote to turn their show to half mute. "...h-i uh...you.....wanna watch too...?"

Whumper's eyes raked down over them as they took a step closer. "I am watching."

Whumpee chewed on their lip, nodding as they turned the volume back up. "...do you...w-anna...sit on the couch...?"

"Mmmno. No, I'm good standing."

Whumpee's skin tingled - hairs on the back of their neck prickling up as Whumper prowled behind the couch to watch over their shoulder. Whumper's hands slid over the back of the couch, still out of view bust rustling against fabric nonetheless.

Whumpee flickered as warm breath brushed behind their ear. "Why are you so jumpy?"

Whumpee's fingers tangled together in their lap. "I...I wasn't trying t-...m'sorry-"

A soft whimper pressed from their throat as warm hands slithered over their shoulders, kneading gently into knotted muscle. It sent a shudder down their spine, pressing their entire body tighter in on itself.

"Just watch your show. You earned it."

Whumpee's lips pressed tight together, but they forced their eyes to stay glued on the screen as they gave Whumper a small nod. "Y-es sir."

Whumper hummed, continuing the slow massage. After a moment, they found a knot and prodded at it, rolling their thumb in hard circles around it until Whumpee was whimpering.

Whumper chuckled. "Did you break a rule, sweetheart?"

White fuzz scattered across Whumpee's mind. They shoved down the spark of panic and the burning of their eyes. "I...I d-onn't think so-??"

Whumper hummed in amusement, leaning in. Whumper's words brushed hot against the shell of their ear. "Then why are you so scared~?"

[Drabble Masterpost]

(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @mabledonut @happy-little-sadist @paleassprince @distinctlywhumpthing @wibbly-wobbly-whump @batfacedliar-yetagain @suspicious-whumping-egg @wormwriting @villainsvictim @throwawaywhumper @wild-selenite-caffine @whumpasaurus101 @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whumpworld @pinkieglitterheart @whumpberry-cookie @rainbows-and-whumperflies @a-galactic-fox @shywhumpauthor @cyberneticwhump @bumpwhump @hold-back-on-the-comfort @veyroswin @whumping-seven-days-a-week @whumpingisfun @suffering-and-misery @definitely-not-a-seagull-i-swear @yetanotheraltwhumpblog @whump-queen @a-whumped-tea @whumpsday @sonder35)

As always, lmk if you want to be added or removed from any tag lists!

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feverdreamsanddelusions · 5 months

Note

Ohohoho I adore your Bad Caretaker ask game! If you're accepting asks from it, how about no. 14? <3

bad caretaker ask game

14. caretaker is victim blaming

[tw bad caretaker, victim blaming, abusive relationship, past domestic abuse, self-blame, self-deprecation, guilt]

"Hey, hey, what's going on? Whumpee?" Caretaker jumped up from the couch and ran over, making Whumpee flinch back and pull their borrowed jacket tighter around their shivering body.

"I'm home!" They tried to sound lighthearted and cheery, but their voice came out timid and shaky. "It's n-nothing, I... I just need a shower..."

"There's– there are bruises on your face, Whumpee... What happened? Whose jacket is this?"

"I, I don't know... I'll bring it back tomorrow, I don't know..."

"Who hurt you?"

"I don't know!" Whumpee stepped back, pressing themself against the wall. "I don't know... It was all very chaotic, I just wanna take a shower, please..."

"Are you hurt anywhere else besides your face?" Caretaker pressed.

"N-no, no, it's fine, I'm fine, please... I just want a shower, I just– I just need to take a shower." They pushed past their friend and ran up the stairs, ignoring the concerned yelling from behind. They locked themself in the bathroom and started running the water immediately, hoping it'd drown out the noise.

They just needed to clean their body. That was all they needed. A fresh start. Something pleasant after a very unpleasant encounter.

They spent at least two hours hiding in there before they ventured out into the hall with nothing but a towel and the jacket around their body. They slipped inside their bedroom and quickly threw on some pyjamas, jumping into bed right as Caretaker opened the door.

"Whumpee, we need to talk," they said carefully, and Whumpee knew there was no sense in pretending they were already asleep. "Please. I'm worried."

"I'm fine," they mumbled.

"Someone hurt you while you were out. And pretty badly, too."

"I don't wanna talk about it."

Caretaker walked inside and sat on the edge of their bed, sighing heavily. "Okay, let me guess. You went to a bar, rejected some asshole, they hit you, someone interfered and gave you their jacket to cover up, and now we're here."

Whumpee swallowed. "Y-yeah."

There was a moment of hesitation as Caretaker tried to decipher whether they were being honest. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, that's... that's what happened."

"That's not what happened. What part am I wrong about?"

Whumpee took a shaky breath and shook their head. "You're not wrong. And you weren't wrong when you said I shouldn't go to bars anymore. And you weren't wrong when you told me not to wear that dress. It was my fault."

"No... no, you're hiding something. I can tell you're hiding something." Whumpee could almost hear the gears turning in their friend's head, and it scared them half to death. But surely, they weren't that predictable, right? "Oh, fuck's sake. You can't tell me– It wasn't a random person hitting on you, was it? Were you going on a date? Were you meeting that fucking asshole again? That's why you were wearing the dress! Their favourite dress."

Maybe they were that predictable.

Whumpee shot up in bed, eyes wide. "No! No, that's not–"

Caretaker grabbed them by the face, finally getting a good look at the fresh bruises. "Stop fucking lying to me. Are you crazy? How many times are you going to go back? Are you enjoying this?"

"No!" Whumpee teared up as their friend dug their fingers into the tender flesh, but they didn't seem to care. "No–"

"Is it their jacket? Did they hit you and then apologise? Gave you their stupid jacket and called you a cab? You know they only gave it to you so you'd have to go back, yeah?"

"It's not theirs, it's not, I swear–"

Caretaker shoved them away and stood up from the bed. "Stop swearing. What's wrong with you? All you do is fucking lie. This is fucking ridiculous. Honestly, why did you even move out? Why did you move out and move in with me if you were gonna continue seeing them for a couple slaps every night?"

Whumpee didn't even have the words to respond anymore. It felt like opening their mouth was just going to make it worse, cause them to bawl, or both.

"You're... I don't even want to do this right now. Fuck this. Fuck you." Caretaker took a couple steps towards the bedroom door before turning back around, apparently not yet done with bashing them. "I did everything I could to get you away from Whumper. Everything. I made sure you could stay here, I took care of you, I listened to you cry for days on end, I would've helped you file a fucking police report. I would've fucking testified! How long has this been going on? How long have you been seeing them again?"

"I'm– I'm not–"

"Stop fucking lying!" they snapped, and Whumpee covered their ears with a small cry of fear. "Fuck it! Fuck it, then! I don't care! Maybe you two deserve each other."

Whumpee could hear the door slamming shut after them, and they dissolved into a sobbing mess. They didn't want this. They didn't want any of this. But Whumper had been so different the last couple times they'd met up, they thought... they thought they'd changed. Really changed. Even this night had just been a slip up. A mistake. Whumpee had been at fault anyway. Like always. Even Caretaker thought that.

They hugged their knees to their chest and tried to cry as quietly as possible. They didn't want to escalate the situation any further.

Maybe Whumper would take them back tomorrow, if they apologised for making them so angry while giving the jacket back. Maybe they could go back to living with them. Caretaker was right — they deserved whatever that house held in store for them.

#thank you :)#whump #whump drabble #bad caretaker #victim blaming #abusive relationship #past domestic abuse #self-blame #self-deprecation #guilt #res writes

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whumpshaped · 1 year

Text

financial imbalance. abuse of power. all of it. i want it. i love it.

tw financial whump, abuse of power, domestic whump, manipulation, invasion of privacy, implied dubcon/noncon if you take it that way, poverty

whumpee and whumper are roommates. whumpee cant even really afford rent, theyre at whumper's mercy. if whumper decides they dont want to pay the entire rent for the both of them, whumpee is out.

whumpee and whumper are in a relationship. whumpee really only goes along with it for the money. whumper knows that and never fails to hold it over their head.

whumper is whumpee's employer. and they know full well that if whumpee loses this job, its curtains.

whumpee's allowance is barely enough for basic necessities, if that. if they want anything else, they have to ask whumper. maybe they have to ask whumper for food money too. its entirely up to whumper whether whumpee will be allowed to have it

whumpee forced to do everything for whumper. i mean everything. whatever they want.

whumper isolating whumpee, sabotaging their attempts at getting a job or gaining any sort of independence

whumpee is kept well! they look healthy, they have the nicest clothes, they smell like lavender and vanilla. there are bruises peeking out from under the lace and sheer fabric.

others think whumpee is a gold-digger, a horrible, money hungry person, and whumper is the victim, trampled on because theyre just too generous for their own good

whumpee is so manipulated and so far gone, they believe all of that. they think theyre being horrible asking for the bare minimum. they think they deserve the disrespect. they think whumper is generous and theyre grateful to them for putting food on the table and a roof over their head

whumpee isnt allowed to touch their roommate's/partner's food or things, after all, whumper bought that with their own money and not for whumpee

whumper is allowed to touch any and everything, after all it was all bought with their money so technically its just theirs

whumpee has no privacy. their office? of course their boss can monitor them 24/7 if they like. their bedroom? their roommate is paying for the apartment theyll go wherever they please. their phone? their partner is allowed to look at their messages on a phone they bought for them, no? especially since surely whumpee has nothing to hide anyway

ok im done

@ashh-ed @whumpsday @whump-queen @dustbunnywhump @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland

#whump #whump prompts #whump scenarios #financial whump #abuse of power #domestic whump #manipulation #invasion of privacy #implied dubcon #implied noncon

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shion-yu · 2 months

Text

Just The Two of Us

In his feverish haze, Shu couldn't tell whether it was someone he loved or someone he was afraid of at the door. Ft. Shu's boyfriend after Julian: Paul. (Not Sick Love AU) 2,879 words, TWs: Past domestic abuse, PTSD.

Written for the @whumplovers-collaborate 2024 Winter Exchange event and posted on AO3! Author reveals aren't technically until 3/1 but I don't think anyone will notice. There are TONS of amazing works in the collection (INCLUDING AN INSANE ART OF SHU/JULIAN!!) so I encourage you to browse it!

"Shumei? Answer me!"

Shu could hear someone yelling and banging on his front door. In his feverish haze, he couldn't tell if they meant well or not. Vaguely he wondered if he should call the police, but he lacked the energy to follow through on this idea. He felt as if his couch cushions were swallowing him, like he was sinking deep into a very dark and cold place.

"Answer before I break it down, Shu!"

It couldn't be Alex, Shu thought to himself. Alex had a key to the house. His son would come and go whenever he felt like it, usually without warning. Sometimes Shu would come home from work to find Alex sleeping on the couch or in his bed, in the latter situation the only indication that he was there at all being his shoes and coat by the door. Shu told Alex he should let him know when he wanted to sleep over, but secretly he enjoyed these surprise visits. Shu missed him now that they lived separately, and although Shu called him frequently his son was successful and busy in his career as a musician and didn't always have time to answer. They'd never gone more than a day not talking though, except when he was with Julian. Was it Julian at the door?

The sound of heavy thumping repeated over and over again. Julian was here to kill him, Shu thought weakly, fear rising in his throat like bile. He'd come back to finish the job he'd started. Doubtless he wanted revenge for what Alex had done to him. Shu's leg ached from where Julian had broken it that last time they’d been together.

There was a jarring cracking sound and suddenly Julian was there, hands on Shu's shoulders and shaking him. Shu felt frozen, too horrified to move a muscle in response. His throat felt bone dry and he couldn't get any words to come out. He heard the person in front of him speaking with insistence. "Shu, honey? Look at me. C'mon... Shit, you're really hot."

Julian did think it was hot when he was sick, Shu thought in terror. He liked it when Shu cried too, and when he bled. He liked to hit Shu in places that Alex and the people at work couldn't see because they were easy to hide underneath his clothes. He liked when Shu had to rely on him because he was too weak to do anything else.

One time he collapsed at work. He had been leaning over Mathias’ shoulder and showing him last month’s data when he just went down, entirely deadweight and without warning. Shu woke up on the ground to Mathias over him and shouting his name. He had a terrible fever, just like now, except it was because Julian had locked him out of the house last night in the rain when he was already ill. He couldn’t even remember what he’d done to make Julian so mad. Mathias had asked Shu why he had even bothered showing up to work with such a high temperature. 'Because it's the only place I'm safe anymore,' Shu remembered thinking.

If Julian was back, he’d do all of that terrible stuff to Shu all over. And even though Shu had promised Alex that he’d never hide something from him again, he was afraid to tell Alex. Alex was no longer a minor like he was the first time around; if he hurt Julian, he might end up in jail for real. “Don’t hurt me,” Shu begged. “I’ll be good.”

“Hurt you? I’m not going to hurt you,” the figure above him said. He sounded worried, but Julian was never worried. He didn’t worry about Shu’s well-being or about getting caught. No, he would just get angry.

Shu was too scared to look up at the person in front of him. He was too scared to face the person he'd spent years trying to completely forget about, but failed. Julian was always there when he least expected it: in his dreams, hiding in the shadows, even in the corner of his eyes if he turned around too quickly. "Don't hurt me," Shu repeated. "I-I didn't do anything."

“No, no. You're okay. Open your eyes, hun.”

Shu obeyed and realized it was not Julian above him, but Paul. Sweet, caring, lovely Paul who had indeed had never hurt him, even when Shu made mistakes like forgetting they’d made plans or leaving the oven on. Shu’s eyes filled with tears and he reached up towards Paul's face with one shaking hand. “I thought you were him,” Shu said, voice wavering. “No one else is here, right?”

“No, it’s just us,” Paul said, sitting next to him and rubbing his cool hands through Shu’s messy hair. “You’re really ill, that’s all. Alex called me, said you hadn’t answered your phone in days.” Oh, that’s right, Shu thought to himself. Alex was on tour and his mom was on vacation with her girlfriends.

“...Did you break my door?”

Paul laughed, sounding relieved that Shu was at least aware enough to ask this. “A little bit. I’ll fix it, don’t worry. I’m going to look through your cabinets and find meds, okay? Do you have a thermometer?”

“Bottom left cabinet in the bathroom,” Shu mumbled. Now that he was more awake, his head had begun to ache fiercely. Paul nodded and left him on the couch. Shu coughed; it sounded very wet and wheezy. He wondered vaguely where his rescue inhaler was, but he hadn’t used it in quite a while. Paul came back in two minutes holding the thermometer, a wet washcloth and a bottle of Tylenol. He took his place back on the edge of the couch and held the thermometer up to Shu. Shu felt like his arms were way too heavy but took the small instrument in his own hand and placed it under his tongue, closing his eyes while it worked. His eyes throbbed and felt extra hot inside of his skull.

It beeped about thirty seconds later and Shu handed it blindly to Paul, not bothering to look at it himself. "Oh man. 103.1. That’s really high, honey. Maybe we should go to the hospital.”

“I’ll be fine,” Shu grunted, which made him cough again. Paul helped him sit up a bit higher, hoping it would help Shu breathe. Shu coughed until he gagged on all the disgusting phlegm that came up. Thank God he had nothing in his stomach, because he was absolutely sure he was too weak to make it to the bathroom right now. Paul handed him one of the already very-used-up tissues from the couch, which Shu spit into.

“Here, at least take some Tylenol,” Paul said, holding out two extra strength tablets and a glass of water. Shu felt pathetic and old, but let Paul place the pills on his tongue and tip a sip of water into his mouth. “Good,” Paul said, helping Shu lay back down. “Let’s just see if that works first, alright? I’m going to go call Alex, let him know you’re okay.” He neatly placed the cold and wet cloth he’d brought on Shu’s forehead and stood up to go to the kitchen. Shu caught his wrist just before he took a step away.

“Just you and me here?” He confirmed again, ashamed but worried enough to ask. “You promise?”

“Just us,” Paul promised. He took Shu’s hand and kissed the back of his fingers. “Get some more rest and we’ll check your temperature again in a bit.”

The Tylenol seemed to only help a little. Shu’s temperature didn’t drop less than a degree and Paul was too worried to leave him alone. Shu was talking a lot in his sleep, Paul noted. A lot of apologizing and pleading. It broke his heart.

Paul didn’t know a lot about Julian. He knew that Shu had dated the guy for a bit over a year and it had ended very badly, with Alex having to step in and protect Shu. He knew whatever Julian had done had landed Shu in the hospital, and this was why Shu walked with a limp and had a very large scar on the left side of his abdomen. He didn’t know the specifics of how this all went down or what things Julian had done that hadn't left a mark. He could tell it was a sensitive topic from the way Shu seemed to awkwardly laugh and change the topic whenever it came up, though. So he hadn't asked, but through bits and pieces Paul was slowly begun to put the picture together. He understood the bottom line: that Julian had been a bad person who had treated Shu very poorly.

It pained Paul to imagine someone voluntarily hurting Shu. Shu was so nice, so mild-mannered. Not only would he never hurt a fly, but Paul was sure it would never even occur to him to do so. Shu had raised Alex as a single father entirely voluntarily starting the day that he’d gotten a call from CPS that a very distant relative had died, leaving their child in foster care and needing a home. “I had put my name down as someone interested in foster care at some fair, just once,” Shu had told Paul fondly. “I had no idea my contact information was still floating around as a potential parent. But when they called me, I said yes right away. I didn't know what I was really saying yes to, but it's the best thing that's ever happened to me."

According to Shu, raising Alex had been quite the challenge. He was thirteen when he arrived, Shu said, and already had all the bad habits of a child who’d been neglected and forced to raise himself in the face of his unstable and drug addicted parents. The people who were supposed to protect him never had, and going from that to Shu who wanted to give him everything was a harsh adjustment for both of them. Alex had gotten into fights, he’d smoked even at thirteen, and he was academically testing far below what was supposed to be his grade level. “Somehow, we figured it out. We learned to trust each other and went to a lot of therapy and it worked out.” Shu said this with a clear air of pride. Paul was aware that Shu would always love Alex the most out of anyone in his life, and he was okay with that. He respected it.

All of this goodness in Shu that Paul could see made it so much worse to imagine Shu being beat down by someone else. Paul had seen pictures from that year, and in retrospect it was easy to see how ill Shu had been back then. Even though there was no visible evidence of bruising, he was gaunt and pale and his smile didn’t reach his eyes. He looked nothing like the caring and easily contented person Paul knew him to be. Paul didn’t know what Julian looked like, but Alex had said if he ever saw him again he’d “bash the guy’s face in.”

He could hear Shu crying out now from the couch. Paul quickly set down the mug of tea he’d been drinking and hurried out to see what was the matter. Shu was flushed and sweating, mumbling something that sounded like, “If you break my glasses again Alex is gonna notice.” Paul felt a sharp pang of pity in his stomach and shook Shu’s shoulder gently.

“Honey, it’s just me, Paul. He’s not here anymore. You’re safe.”

Shu’s eyes slowly focused on Paul, fighting to come back to the present. “Paul?”

“That’s right. There’s nothing to worry about. Why don’t we go to bed?” He felt Shu’s cheek and frowned at the unhealthy heat coming off of him. The Tylenol wasn’t working. “Let’s sit up honey. There you go. Can you walk?”

“I think so,” Shu said weakly. He let Paul help him stand and then mostly drag him to his bedroom. It was a good thing Paul was strong from his years of dancing as a career, because when Shu's knees buckled he quickly caught Shu and carried him the rest of the way to the bedroom. Shu tucked his hot face into the crook of Paul's neck.

Paul tucked Shu in and sat next to him on the other side of the bed. He stuffed an extra pillow behind Shu’s head because his boyfriend sounded like he could barely breathe. “Can I get you anything?” Paul asked worriedly. He didn’t like the wheeze he could hear in Shu’s chest. “It’s too early for more Tylenol but... Where’s your inhaler?”

“Pocket... my jacket, I think.”

Paul quickly found the inhaler and brought it to Shu, helping him take two puffs of it. Shu coughed harshly after each one. Paul winced at the damp and congested sound. When Shu sounded no better an hour later and was groaning in pain from his fever again, Paul decided he needed to push harder. “I really think you need to see a doctor,” he said.

Shu’s eyes flew open in panic. “No doctors,” he said quickly. His chest was heaving with the work of breathing. “No doctors, no hospitals, that’s where he works, Paul.”

Paul didn’t need to ask who he was. Julian, who was actually in prison from what he understood, but now wasn’t the time to fight. He took a deep breath. “How about urgent care?”

There was a long pause. Shu seemed to be deeply considering this question. “Can Alex come?”

“Alex is on tour, honey. But we can keep him on speaker phone, if he’s not busy. How’s that sound? Deal?”

“...Deal.”

One very long appointment later, Shu was back home with a diagnosis of pneumonia but doing much better than when they’d left. They’d given him a liter of fluids, a shot of solu-medrol, and antibiotics and steroids to take at home in pill form. Paul had stayed with him the entire time, even when he got scared because Alex was driving through a dead service area and the phone call dropped for a few minutes. Paul tried not to listen to the things Alex was saying too closely as it felt intrusive, but it was impossible not to overhear much of it. Alex was using such a soft and gentle voice that Paul had never heard before - usually he was so stoic and sullen, minus the times he was threatening to kill Paul if he ever hurt his dad.

It wasn’t until they had gotten back through the (slightly broken) door into the house and Paul had herded Shu into bed that he took the phone and said to Alex, “We’re all set, if you need to go.”

“I don’t need to go,” Alex said irritably, but Paul could hear the bustle and noise of what he knew to be backstage. Alex would have to get on stage and perform any time now, pretending everything was okay for the sake of the audience. A voice called for him in the background and Alex sighed in frustration. “Okay, fine, I’ll go, but text me every hour,” he ordered. Then he added at the end, “Please.”

“Will do,” Paul said, unbothered by the sharp tone. He was used to it from Alex, plus he knew he’d be a wreck too if he were in Alex’s situation. “I’ll take care of him.”

“You’d better,” Alex said, and then he hung up.

Paul sighed and looked back at Shu who had already fallen asleep on the bed. He’d given Shu the first antibiotic as soon as they’d gotten through the door, and now set an alarm for Shu’s next doses of that, the steroid and more Tylenol. Shu was eleven years older than him and Paul was worried that pneumonia could quickly turn much worse in someone of Shu's age. But he was on the correct medications and Paul wasn’t going anywhere until Shu was doing better.

Shu stirred and his eyes fluttered open momentarily. “Paul?” He croaked weakly.

“I’m right here,” Paul said, immediately leaning over Shu with what he hoped was a gentle expression. In reality he just looked worried. He didn’t understand why a smile flickered over Shu’s lips. “What?”

“You look stressed,” Shu said. “I’m sorry I worried you, but I’ll be alright.”

“I know,” Paul said. “But I’m still worried. You thought I was... well, not me for a while.”

“Did I?” Shu said, smile dropping. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Paul said. “But whatever he did, I’ll never do it to you. I’m not going to hurt you. Do you know that?” He was worried to hear the answer.

To his relief, Shu said, “Yes, I know it. I really do. I’m so glad I met you.”

Paul smiled tiredly. “I’m glad I met you too. Now go to sleep, you need a lot of rest. I’ll wake you when it’s time for your next meds.”

“Thank you,” Shu said. “Love you.” Then his eyes fluttered closed and he fell asleep again. Paul watched him all night to make sure Shu didn’t have any more nightmares.

#shionwrites #oc: shu #sickfic #oc sickfic #whump #tw: violence #tw: domestic abuse #ptsd #sicknario #male whump #sick whump #fever whump #illness whump #pneumonia fic

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whumpitisthen · 2 years

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"...What am I even supposed to be?"

"What do you mean, love?"

"No matter how hard I try, it's never good enough for you. You want something different every day! I try to be a good pet, but you want a competent servant that day. I try to be a servant, but your mood changes and now I'm supposed to be acting like some kind of fucked up life partner! Then, when you get bored, you tell me that furniture doesn't talk and call me a toy... And no matter what I do, I always end up getting, getting fucking tortured. What even am I anymore? Please, just tell me! I hate this god damn guessing game all the time!"

"Hmm... Good question."

"You don't even know!"

"I suppose I haven't thought of that."

"Well, make up your mind then! B-Because I can't, I just can't do this anymore, I can't..."

"Don't start crying now. You know I hate to see you cry."

"Oh, do you now? Because I seem to remember you praising me for my 'beautiful tears' just yesterday, when you were done strangling me. But I guess I'm not a pretty prisoner anymore, am I, because your mood has changed since then! Maybe I'm a pet again, or a slave, or a toy, or a housewife, or a lover-"

"Mine."

" - or a piece of furniture... Huh, what?"

"You're mine. That's what you are."

"Wh... But that doesn't-"

"No, hush. You've said a lot more than I wish to tolerate for today. I think I'd rather you stop talking now."

"Aw, did your mood-"

"I said shut it, Whumpee. That's enough out of you.

And yes, my mood did change, thanks to you, and now I would like you to be my little stress toy again. You've gone and made me wanna squeeze the life out of you. You really shouldn't remind me how adorable you look squirming under me when I choke you, by the way. If you hadn't, I might have been content cuddling you a little while longer."

Masterlist

#whump #creepy whumper #sadistic whumper #my writing #whump writing #whump dialogue #defiant whumpee #whump prompt #referenced torture #references to past abuse #domestic whump #begging #crying

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dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night · 11 months

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Writing request for a whumper and a whumpee in very fucked up homosexual love 👀

TW: abusive relationship, domestic violence, captivity, Stockholm Syndrome, referenced starvation

"Darling, I'm home," Cato called, in his usual sing-song voice.

While Cato put away the groceries, Andrew waited patiently at the bottom of the staircase. Cato unlocked the heavy basement door. His combat boots landed heavily on the unfinished stairs. Andrew wanted to tackle Cato in a hug, but knew it wasn't allowed.

"I'm happy to finally be home," Cato said cheerfully. "I've had a terribly stressful day. But that's always cured by seeing my favorite person."

Being called Cato's favorite person never ceased to make Andrew smile, even if the rest of his words were an obvious threat. If Cato had a stressful day, then he would hurt Andrew. It always happened.

Andrew didn't mind, of course. He was more than happy to help the love of his life through his frustration and anger. Cato took such good care of Andrew. His kindness and love made the violence well worth it.

Fighting back or even complaining was the furthest thing from Andrew's mind as Cato threw a punch. Andrew's nose bled profusely, but he didn't bother trying to wipe the blood from his face. Cato liked Andrew best like this, face covered in blood and eyes blurry from reflex tears.

Andrew stayed standing through the assault, not enjoying the pain itself, but rather being able to bring Cato comfort. Judging by the number of bruises blooming on his sensitive skin and lack of broken bones, Cato's work hadn't been terribly unbearable for him.

The end was alwats the best part. Cato pulled Andrew into a tight hug and buried his face in Andrew's chest. Andrew hugged him back, a caring smile plastered on his face.

"I love you," Cato whispered. "More than anything."

"I love you too," Andrew said. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes." Cato gently pulled away from Andrew. "Get yourself patched up and come upstairs."

As Cato returned to the main floor of their home, leaving the basement door unlocked, Andrew went to the bathroom to tend to his mild injuries. It took a few minutes for his nose to stop bleeding, and he hoped he hadn't accidentally bled on Cato during the hug.

When he walked upstairs, cautious as to not break any rules, Andrew found Cato in the livingroom. Bpwls of junk food covered the coffee table. The television screen showed the DVD menu for Godzilla vs Mothra.

Cato lifted one end of his fuzzy blanket and patted the sofa cushion next to him. Andrew wasted no time cuddling as close to him as humanly possible, nearly bursting into tears as Cato started playing with his hair. This was already as lovely of an evening as he could have wished for.

They gorged themselves on junk food as their shlock monster movie played in the backround. Andrew almost never had enough to eat. Something he didn't hold it against Cato, knowing him to just be forgetful. Being able to eat to his heart's content was always a blessing for Andrew, especially while cuddling with the husband he adored so utterly.

Falling asleep together as the end credits rolled was a natural conclusion to their movie night. Andrew always had much more pleasant dreams upstairs in his husband's arms. If only they could stay like this forever, with no more pain and suffering.

Taglist: @hugh-lauries-bald-spot @devourerofcheesecake @thedarkmongoose @whumpsday @whumpshaped @heavenly-whumper

#Abraham original: Hot off the press #Whump #whumper x whumpee #Kira #Writing request #Whump writing #One shot #Abusive relationship #Domestic violence #Captivity whump #Carewhumper

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serickswrites · 1 year

Note

Idea : whumpee who is always joyous and kind to others despite never receiving kindness themselves

Hello @lockedwith-care that is a great idea! Please enjoy! And please ask for anything you would like to see written or more of!

Warnings: degradation, emotional abuse, mention of suicidal ideation, physical abuse, bruises, burns, domestic violence

Whumpee pulled the sleeves of their sweater lower, making sure the cigarette burns on their forearms weren't visible. They checked their make up in the bathroom mirror. Whumpee had spent a good portion of their morning trying to cover up the bruises on their face and their black eye. It looked like the make up was holding up. They sighed, their bone-weary exhaustion filling them along with the unspeakable sadness.

Whumpee was trapped with Whumper. Every time Whumpee plucked up the courage to try and leave, Whumper would threaten to kill themself and Whumpee felt guilty and would stay. Would stay despite how much Whumper hit them. Would stay despite how Whumper would extinguish their cigarettes on Whumpee's arm. And would stay despite wanting desperately to be free.

"You are mine forever, Whumpee. You're not going anywhere. Who would want a stupid, ugly slut like you?" Whumper had sneered that morning before slamming the door closed.

Whumpee had taken a moment to cry because Whumper was right. No one would want them. They were trapped. Forever. After allowing themself a five minute pity party, Whumpee knew they had to get up and get ready for work.

As Whumpee washed their hands, shaking the image of their perfectly made up face from their mirror, they plastered on their best customer service smile. "No one will ever know," they muttered as they left the bathroom.

"Whumpee! What took you so long, we're swamped!" Coworker shouted as Whumpee returned.

"Sorry, Coworker, won't happen again." Whumpee's smile dropped a little as they ducked their head.

"It better not, get your butt up here now!"

#serickswrites #whump #whumpblr #whump writing #whump community #tw degradation #tw emotional abuse #tw mention of suicidal ideation #tw physical abuse #tw bruises #tw burns #requests #queue #tw domestic violence

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ashintheairlikesnow · 1 year

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💌 for Kauri please? (hmm possibly with Owen hmmm)

(Also, from Anon: (I'm not sorry for who ever gets involved with this) 💌 & Owen - apology sex

CW: Owen is an abuser and uses abuser logic, emotional abuse, emotional manipulation, domestic abuse, pet whump, box boy, bbu, dubcon

Sometimes, there are moments like this.

"I'm sorry," Owen says, and lays a hand on his back. Kauri doesn't look at him, keeping his chin resting on his knees, arms around his legs. Tears still blur his vision, hot and demanding, even as his eyes ache and his head throbs from the ones he's already cried. His lip throbs, one his wrists is already bruising visibly, only a few hours after Owen's hand had been closed around it. "Hey. Kaur-Bore... you hear me?"

"I hear you," Kauri whispers, but he doesn't look. If he looks into Owen's green eyes, he'll fall all over again, and he knows it. The warm hand at his back rubs gently, up and down, and Owen shifts closer, leans in to press a kiss to his hair. Kauri has to lock his jaw to keep from tilting his head into it.

"I wasn't thinking," Owen says, lips barely moving against a black curl. It makes Kauri shiver, liquid warmth pooling inside of him. "I wasn't. It was stupid of me, Kauri, so stupid of me. I was the rocks for brains this time, yeah? Not you, this time it was me."

Kauri takes a breath and tells himself Owen doesn't mean it. He never means his apologies. His eyes closed, he pretends he's somewhere else, with someone else, that it isn't going to end the way it always, always ends.

Apologize. Hurt again. Apologize once more. Round and round.

"You nearly broke my arm," Kauri says. His voice stays steady. "Right in front of the neighbor down the hall, you nearly did."

"You're my pet, it's none of his fucking business what we do." Owen sighs, moves around in front of him. Kauri senses the shift in the weight on the bed. When Owen's hands are on his, he lets them be pushed down to balance himself, lets owen slot between his legs. The sapphire and white-gold necklace he wears for a collar shifts, too, a jewel in the hollow of his throat. Owen pushes him onto his back, and Kauri doesn't stop him, but he doesn't go eagerly either.

He keeps in mind his swollen bottom lip, bitten to bleeding. The ache in his arm, wrenched nearly out of its socket. The terror as he'd been shoved back into a wall.

"I was just saying good morning," Kauri says. He can feel Owen looming over him. "I don't even know his name."

"Kaur-Bore." Owen shakes his head, and there's a patronizing little smile in his voice that Kauri can see without ever having to open his eyes. "You and I both know that you don't have to know anybody's name to be a little slut around anyone hot. I know what they train Romantics for."

Kauri's chest twists in a new kind of pain. "Mr. Owen... I'm made for you."

"Yeah, because I'm the one who keeps you here. If I let you walk away, you'd be sucking off some guy on a park bench in a week or less. It's not your fault, Kaur-Bore, it's just how you're made."

Kauri swallows, again and again, until all the words that clump together in his throat are forced down. He forces down the tears. He forces down, beneath that, a white-hot anger that he cannot afford to show. "You hurt me," He says instead, and there are so many layers to those three words he knows Owen can't begin to hear.

He just wants to be loved.

He wants to stop having to force down his thoughts and pretend they don't exist.

He wants-

He wants to say good morning to a neighbor without feeling eyes on his back and a hand closing tight around his arm.

"I know." Owen is quiet, and then takes his hand and pulls the bruising wrist to his own mouth, kissing along the place where you can damn near see fingerprints. "I know I did. I'm so sorry, Kaur-Bore. I'm so sorry. You were just saying hello, right? You didn't mean anything by it."

"I didn't-... I didn't. I just... wanted to pretend, for a second, that-... that-"

"That we're a real couple?"

Kauri opens his eyes, and catches the lopsided smile Owen wears, bittersweet and with some anger Kauri can't quite fathom underneath it.

"I wanted to pretend that, too. I wanted to be a real couple," Owen says, voice low. "But I have to settle for pretending, like this. Pretending is hard, Kauri. It makes me... makes me angry, sometimes, having to pretend. That you're not the real thing."

If being called a slut had hurt before, then being reminded that they aren't even really a couple hurts far, far more. "I'm not him," Kauri whispers, and his own anger rises, too.

"No. You're not Vince. But... but we can pretend. I can be better at pretending." He rubs a thumb over Kauri's swollen lower lip. "I bit you. I'm sorry for that, too."

Kauri might like hearing it if he thought it meant he wouldn't just be bitten again, and apologized to again, over and over until nothing means anything unless it's touching him.

"Mr. Owen..." He's going to crack apart. Shake down into powder, disappear entirely. He throws his arms up around Owen's shoulders, and feels the way Owen briefly tenses and then relaxes down on top of him. Covering him with his weight, and warmth. He can feel Owen from forehead to knees. He isn't alone. Not here. Not right now. "Please. Please just... let's stop talking about it, okay?"

"Okay, okay. But you believe me, right? That I'm sorry for losing my temper?"

Kauri swallows.

No.

"Yes," He says out loud, with all the sincerity he can fake. He's an amazing liar.

All the sluts like him are.

Owen grins. "Good. Good, good... now... let me show you just how sorry I really am..." He kisses Kauri's jaw, over his neck, sucking on the skin there until Kauri starts to move against him, rolling his hips in short little lifts. They both start to harden, and when Owen pulls back to take Kauri's shirt off he raises his arms. He drops his hands down to undo Owen's zipper. Their mouths meet and his lip burns where it burst but it doesn't hurt as badly as the bright hot pain in Kauri's chest.

He buries himself in it, in his hand moving against slick hot skin, in Owen's hands pushing his legs up, bent at the knees until he's nearly in half. He loses the pain to cold slick liquid on fingers inside of him, to the pleasure of Owen using one hand to open him up while the other strokes him off with steady certainty.

Owen kisses him, and he moves his tongue just right. Arches his back in a perfect show of lust, lust he even makes himself feel, after a while, because being wanted, and wanting, is better than facing what his life really looks like.

"I'm so sorry I hurt you, Kaur-Bore," Owen whispers against his hair, deep inside of him, hitting just right over and over until Kauri scratches fingernails down his back and cries out for more. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry, I won't hurt you again."

Yes, you will.

"I know-... I know-... Mr. Owen, please, h-harder-"

At some point, he forgets the pain entirely, and all he feels is Owen's skin hot and sweaty, his own electric and charged like lightning at every lingering touch, and the way he is so full of Owen there isn't any room for anything else.

"I-I love you, Mr. Owen-"

"I know," Owen answers. The headboard rocks against the wall in time. "I know, I-... know, fuck, good boy, Kauri, good boy-"

The loneliness in him is buried by the overwhelming crest of pleasure and the way he calls out Owen's name.

In the middle of that single moment, he... almost does believe that Owen really is sorry.

Maybe Owen believes, just for a moment, that he's Vince.

Maybe they're both pretending this is real.

@finder-of-rings @endless-whump @arlin-always-writing @thefancydoughnut @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @burtlederp @nonsensical-whump @whump-tr0pes @autophagay @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears @hackles-up @grizzlie70 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @keeper-of-all-the-random-things

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kittykatkatelol · 5 months

Text

"She knew he'd thank her for it" OC Oneshot

Prompt by @whumpcember - prompt: fever - day 1

CW: Domestic abuse

He was sick. He knew he was sick, and she knew it too - he had to look horrendous. He felt hot and sore, tired and dizzy; he wanted to stay in bed and never leave it. She would never allow it though.

"You're fine." She had said. "You are just faking for attention, as always. Now get up."

He tried to get up, he really tried, but he nearly passed out, seeing dark circles in his eyes and yesterday's bile rise to his throat - he laid back down. She didn't like that - nothing he did she liked so what was one more thing?

He missed the lover that gave him soup and made him feel loved and comfortable while he was sick, watched movies with him and made sure he ate and drank - this wasn't the girl he remembered marrying.

He did nothing as she slapped him and called him useless - what could he do? Hit her back? No, that would make things worse.

Less than two hours later she was back trying to get him up to do something pointless like shopping or something - he didn't quite hear as he was asleep when she came in screaming at him. Heaven forbid a sick man tries to sleep off his illness, tries to keep his wife from receiving whatever bullshit illness he has.

When he didn't move, hell didn't even reply to her yelling - she grabbed his head and smashed it hard against the wall.

That was new. What was normally just some yelling and a slap here and there was now banging my head against a wall as hard as you possibly can.

He was still weak from sickness and he couldn't make her stop very easily - she did it again, and again until blood started to drip from his skull. He was out cold from the impact by the time that happened.

She left him feeling proud of herself while he "slept". He said he wanted sleep - she gave it to him, in her own special way. She knew he'd thank her for it.

[Word count: 346]

#whumpcember2023 #whumpcemberday1 #original character #whump #whump writing #microfic #cw domestic abuse

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abhainnwhump · 3 months

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Whumper shows sensitive Whumpee a series of horror images/movies/jumpscares and now they're too paranoid to sleep from it. Even if they do go to sleep, they could still have nightmares about it.

#this one jumpscare seriously messed with me today and now I cant slesp #send help #whump #whumpblr #whump writing #whump prompt #whump tropes #creepy whumper #sadistic whumper #sensory torture #sleep whump #abused whumpee #domestic whump #psychological whump

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painsandconfusion · 1 month

Text

Kristen

Whumping the Whumpers - Part Thirty-nine

(tw: domestic abuse, gaslighting) [Previous | Masterpost | Next]

Two years ago…

Anna tripped, cussing, over the curb as she hopped up the sidewalk, almost dropping the boxes of heaven-scented food as she went. She recovered quickly, clutching the fiery warmth of redemption to her chest as she skipped up to the storefront door, manufacturing a bright and charming smile over her teeth as she pulled the door open.

“Krissy~!” she beamed, all bubbles and bright loveliness as her eyes landed on her fianceé cutting stems to size.

Focusing. Analyzing her response.

Kristen blinked up in confusion for a moment, then flickered a bewildered but melting smile in return as her eyes skimmed over Anna. “..Annie? Aren’t you working right now?”

Anna shook her head, hopping up to the work counter and setting the food down. Unpackaging it. “Nope, lunch break. You got me forrrr-” she stole a glance at her watch, “Eight minutes.”

Kristen bubbled a confused and brilliant laugh - one that would make a girl’s heart melt at any decibel. And did. “You..spent ninety percent of your lunch break in transit across the city?”

“I spent ninety percent of my lunch break getting to see you, that’s what I did~” Anna sealed the compliment with a kiss, pressed and nuzzled in close against Kristen’s cheek, careful to not disturb the makeup-hidden bruise there.

Kristen melted into it, tilting down so Anna could kiss her properly. “..thank you.”

Anna pressed another soft kiss to her lips. “I missed you. So bad, all day. I missed you.”

Kristen melted further at the words, finally turning to face Anna to wrap her in a soft, warm embrace. “..I missed you too. I’m… I’m sorry about before.”

Anna shook her head, thumb brushing up and down Kristen’s scalp. “..don’t wanna worry about it anymore. It’s done and it’s okay. I love you. That’s all that matters.”

Kristen’s breath shifted tenser - Anna didn’t worry. She knew that was just Kristen trying not to cry. Touched. Moved. Feeling safe in Anna’s arms.

As she should. Anna was the safest place in the world for her.

Pulling back with a small sniff and a wipe of her eyes, Anna turned to the food, opening up Kristen’s lo mein and her own orange chicken. “Okay, maybe closer to five minutes.”

Kristen’s laugh lit up the room. It even seemed to pull the wilting flowers into bloom again in the packed and lush flower shop. “Alright - I’ll race you, then~” Playfully, she snatched her lo mein and fumbled to tear open the packaged utensils - chopsticks for her, plastic fork for Anna.

Anna squeaked in her hurry, pulling her own box open. “You’re on!”

It was a rushed, but perfect lunch with a stunning and perfect girl. Her girl. Her wonderful, bubbling, gorgeous girl.

Anna swore that she’d never hurt Kristen again.

[Previous | Masterpost | Next]

Bonus picrews for the heck of it:

Kristen and Anna, respectively <3

(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @wormwriting @distinctlywhumpthing @whump-cafe @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @azayta @batfacedliar-yetagain @there-will-always-be-blood @siren-of-agony @whumpworld @deltaxxk @whumpasaurus101 @pickywhumpreader @whumpberry-cookie @morning-star-whump @nailevislev @throwawaywhumper @the-mourning-star @d-cs @pigeonwhumps @suspicious-whumping-egg @snakebites-and-ink @whumpedydump @orphans-parent @whumplr-reader @rainbowsandwhumperflies @starfields08000 @sunnyesunny @crystallizedme @lumpofsand @taterswhump)

As always, lmk if you want to be added to the tag list!

#whumping the whumpers #flashback chapter #anna #anna and kristen #FINALLY starting to let you guys know why i hate anna so fucking much #kristen #our princess #our star #our beautiful wonderful girl #abuse #domestic abust #gaslighting

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slashesotron · 2 years

Photo

It’s a gif!!

Freid is @puppy-kitten‘s bastard.

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glitterywriting · 9 months

Text

"Just two more bites and we’re done. We’re done, I promise."

orrr caretaker helping whumpee eat, despite their bad relationship with food caused by intense trauma and PTSD

#whump prompt #whump #whumpee #caretaker #ed #ptsd #trauma #abuse #domestic abuse

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heavenlyeden · 9 months

Text

♱Heavenly Feast♱

𓆩Chapter 9.5 - And I scream through shattered glasses𓆪

𓆩 Previous 𓆪 ♱ 𓆩 Masterlist 𓆪 ♱ 𓆩 Next 𓆪

CW: Domestic abuse, lady whumpee.

If they said one more thing, Katherine would scream. Scream at them to shut up, to stop acting like she was lucky to be with him. They bought his savior act, and looked at her as a shrew. Just the way her personal devil wanted.

A wine in glass in one hand, she listened to the wives of Joseph's friends complaining about their husbands. They weren't her friends. They didn't want to, and he didn't allow her to. Yet, they played pretend in the hellish suburban act.

The straw that broke the camel's back was a simple phrase.

"Joseph seems so sweet to you," Amelia said, "unlike the brute I have at home."

Katherine didn't register any other words that came from her mouth after that.

Sweet? She squeezed the cross hanging around her neck, trying to keep herself calm. But it was to no avail. Her blood boiled. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream, yet she couldn't. She couldn't, because he never let her scream.

Before she knew it, the glass had been thrown to the floor, shattering into a thousand tiny pieces. All eyes turned to her.

Joseph's eyes met hers as soon as he walked in. 'Bad decision, Kate', they said with a familiar tone she could hear in her bones.

She knew all too well what came next. The same sick, satanic ritual to keep his image.

He came to her with a fake, worried face after quickly understanding what happened, and held her chin.

"Oh, Kate. Are you unwell again? Poor thing. You should rest now, come."

If only God would help her, open their eyes and have any of them hold her arm and tell him to not take her away. But they had done this many, many, many, many, many, many times. They both knew no one would do anything. And they both knew she couldn't do anything.

She stood and let him take her to their room - his room more than hers - with each step increasing her terror and dread.

They had done this many, many, many, many, many times. But it never made it easier.

Joseph locked the door behind them and leaned on it.

"What were you hoping to accomplish, hm? I know you are smarter than this. I know you understand there was only one outcome for the little outburst you had earlier. Don't you?"

"Yes…" She croaked, stuck in place by pure fear.

"Undress."

She dug her nails into her palms and bit his lips, but didn't move.

"Undress, Katherine. I'm not going to ask you one more time."

Katherine took her dress off with shaky hands, letting it fall to the floor. Then, she knelt by the bed and gripped the sheets before he decided to force her too.

The moments he took to get his instrument of torture lasted an eternity. The first blow of the crop came without a warning, making her yelp.

"Quiet," he warned.

She gritted her teeth so hard she was sure they would crack. But they didn't. They didn't all the other times. And they didn't crack this time as Joseph mercilessly flogged her, surely enjoying every second of it.

He only stopped when she was a sobbing mess and her back was raw, as he usually did. He sat at the bed close to her and held her chin, wiping her tears.

"You understand why I do that, don't you?" He repeated a similar speech to all previous times. "I want us to have a happy married life. We can't have that if you keep throwing tantrums."

It was a lie. They both knew. She came to know her tormentor and that made her even more frightened, as she understood he enjoyed watching her squirm and fight to no avail.

And then he said those disgusting words, so sweet she could have believed, if he hadn't tried to kill her and break her in every way he knew. "I love you, Kate."

'Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name,' she prayed, as she always did when he said that, 'please, listen to the prayer of your servant.'

'I know you have a plan. I know this must be your will. But I can't bear this anymore.'

'Please, take him away. Please, take him away to Hell where this sinner belongs.'

'Before I become a sinner by doing it myself.'

Taglist: @suspicious-whumping-egg @thatonefoxyplush @hidden-dreamland @whump-me-baby-one-more-time @whatwasmyprevioususername @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @burntcoffeewhump @whump-cravings

#Katherine Edwards/Katherine Simmons #Joseph Edwards #heavenly feast #whump #whumpee #whumper #domestic abuse tw

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whumpitlikeyoumeanit · 2 months

Text

Whumpcember 14

All of this Whumpcember is a single, long fic, with the prompts used in specific scenes, in order. See the Masterlist and AO3 link here.

((content warnings: beating, domestic abuse ))

promptspiration: @whumpcember Day 14: Cornered

Whumpee: Draco Malfoy Whumper: Harry Potter Pairing: Harry/Draco whump type: physical beating fic type: post-Hogwarts AU

words: ~700

-------------------

The door came open, and then it slammed back against the wall. Draco shot upright and pushed himself back before he was even conscious of why.

"If I tell you to stay someplace," Harry raised his voice as he came in, stalking toward the bed, "I mean for you to stay there! Not run away and hide someplace else!"

He was scrambling out of the bed without pausing to get his bearings. "I didn—"

"Did I ask for your excuses?" He grabbed for Draco's arm, missed, and that sent a snarl over his face. He blocked the path to the door with his body and Draco found himself pressed into the corner of the wardrobe and the wall, struggling to breathe.

"I thought you were going to be good now!" Harry was yelling into his face, seizing the front of his shirt, and his eyes were bright and wet like he was about to cry. "You agreed to be with me, it's supposed to be fixed!" A fist collided with the side of his face.

But it wasn't just Harry hitting him, it was the ring on his father's hand as he punished him for colouring in a book when he was little, it was Thorfinn Rowle catching him alone to take revenge for his injured pride after the Dark Lord made him torture him, it was Bellatrix hitting him and screaming in his face that it was his fault Potter escaped, it was Harry and Weasley beating him down into the Quidditch pitch for his mouth…

"I'm sorry," he gasped, sinking down the corner, sagging against Harry's grip on his shirt. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry…"

"Liar!" Draco slammed into the side of the wardrobe, head first, and then he was on the ground, being hit or kicked, sharp pains in his side. "Stop lying to me! If you were really sorry you'd be better!"

"I'm sorry…"

"Stop it!" A shoe stomped down on him with a blinding pain.

"Stop treating me like this when I'm trying to help you." Harry was panting over him, hands clenched. "Stop fighting against me. Stop undermining me. I don't need to fight everyone for you, and fight you too."

"I'm sorry…" he panted.

Harry's fist slammed into the wall, and he flinched behind his hands, breath hitching. "Stop lying to me! You always say whatever you think will get you out of it, but you don't actually care! Stop lying and just actually be good for once!"

He didn't try to answer this time, hiding behind his trembling hands, and Harry's breathing slowly relaxed. He stayed there, looming over him, tense. It could snap again at any moment.

"I'm leaving," Harry finally said. "I don't know when I'll be back. Eventually. Stay the fuck here. If I come back and you've left… I don't know, Draco. I really don't."

And then he left. The door locked behind him.

Draco didn't move. He wasn't sure at first if it was over, and then he didn't know what to do.

His head hurt…

He had the unpleasantly familiar mineral taste of blood in his mouth. Moving his hands eventually, he found his lip was bleeding. He looked at the blood smeared on his finger blankly. It was slick when he rubbed his thumb over it.

He should move. It took some effort to shift onto his knees, and the bed looked roughly a continent away.

Why? Why had he gone and done this? It hadn't even occurred to him when he left that he was doing something he wasn't supposed to. That wasn't like him, to be so unaware. He needed to pay more attention. If his stupid brain had problems picking up those details, he needed to try harder. He never should have been in this situation, if he'd just paid attention…

With an effort, he forced himself back to his feet and limped to the bed, holding his side stiffly. He made an unconscious sound as he gingerly lay down, trying and failing not to aggravate any of that pain, and had to make an effort to breathe normally, carefully, so that he wouldn't pull something.

Fuck, his head hurt…

He closed his eyes to try to handle the pain and focus on his breathing.

#whump writing #not a prompt whumpitlikeyoumeanit #whumpitlikeyoumeanit wrote it #whumpcember2023 #whumpcember2023 day 14 #cornered #domestic abuse tw #harry whumper #draco whumpee

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