#noncon kissing
Creepy/intimate whumper things
- Using their belt to strangle whumpee
- Digging their fingers into bruises
- Gentle kisses that turn into bites
- Telling Whumpee that they belong to them
- Caressing Whumpee while they’re tied up and blindfolded
- Putting their fingers into Whumpee’s mouth, knowing they’re too afraid to bite
- Placing a knife or gun in Whumpee’s mouth
- Slowly undressing Whumpee or making Whumpee undress themselves in front of Whumper
- Telling Whumpee how good they look when they’re bruised and bleeding
- Kissing Whumpee’s wounds
- Licking the blood off from Whumpee’s skin
- Whispering Whumpee’s dirty secrets into their ear while hurting them
- Making Whumpee choose between being tortured and letting Whumper touch them
- Whumper manipulating/killing anyone close to Whumpee to isolate them
Timeline: Early Nick and Hayko
C.W. descriptions of fear, whumper making unwanted advances, noncon/dubcon kiss, sadistic whumper, masochist whumpee, threatening with a knife, freeze response, the beginning of a very fucky relationship
——
“Come in.” Hayko said, keeping his eyes down.
The form wasn’t going to fill itself. If he succumbed to every distraction, he would never get anything done and the attention problem certainly didn’t help. But the scruff of feet behind the door was composed and the knock, quiet, hardly enough to disturb him.
Hayko’s new office was simple and elegant with a pleasant enough view, and pleasant enough was all he had ever wanted. First looking out onto the sea of buildings, he had marvelled at just how high-up the feeling had been, even though above the rest wasn’t really something he had ever wanted.
But it felt nice, for once. To be above the rest instead of kneeling on the ground.
Having his own office and having the money to have his own office. He’d laughed at the wistful dream, through law school. And now? With how the business was going, a certain person had been a little more-than-generous with compensating him. Not that Hayko’s inspiration for law had been monetary.
But then again, moral good-doing hadn’t stopped his kitchen ceiling from collapsing every week.
Hayko finally looked up when there was no reply. “I-… Come…in?”
Then, two more slow knocks.
Hayko stilled, breath catching before he set down his pen. His first sense was stabbing panic and then, the overwhelming urge to roll his eyes. “Come in, Nick.”
“Much better.” And there he stood, unavoidable now that the door was out of the way.
losing it at this.
May 27th “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry”
Also, thanks to @whumpcereal for this idea. I was struggling with this prompt. LOL!
Mask | Nightmare | Pliers
Ben stared up at the terrifying mask. Ben was fastened to an inclined table and stripped down to his boxers, this was the stuff of his nightmares. Was this a nightmare? And the face on the mask… Ben shuddered at the twisted, carved form of a corpse face looking down on him.
“Now little Benjamin, let’s find out what you’re made of, shall we?”
Ben strained helplessly as his mouth was forced open – open so wide he could feel his jaw ache and click. Ben’s eyes widened in terror as a pair of pliers descended towards his open mouth. They clamped around one of his teeth and started to tug. Ben’s eyes watered and he wanted to scream, but no sound came from his mouth.
Ben jerked awake in the dark. The sound of the chains rattling set his teeth on edge and reminded him where he was – that and the fact that he was warm. The only time he was warm was when he was in his bed. He was curled up as much as the chains on his wrists and ankles would allow, Volkov spooned around him, limbs tangled with his own. Ben hated that he reveled in the warmth.
Volkov knew exactly what he was doing when he’d chained him to that cross outside. He’d brought him back here to his bed and wrapped him in blankets. He’d explained that the only way he got a blanket, or a pillow, was when he was with him. When Ben chose to be with him.
He’d made him ask - made him beg. Ben had sworn he wouldn’t at first, but he was so cold in his cage and it was always so warm in Volkov’s bed. It was the one reprieve to the disgusting things that happened to him here, to the things he made Ben do here.
“Malyshka? Did you have a bad dream, my little kitten?” Volkov’s voice was thick with sleep, his Russian accent gruffer as a result.
“N-no, I’m, I’m, I’m sorry I woke you, you, sir,” Ben said quietly. He could feel Volkov’s erection pressing against his back and god, he hoped that the mad Russian would just go back to sleep.
“No, tell me, my darling. You can tell me anything,” Volkov’s voice was soft and questioning. Ben knew not to trust it.
“I-it’s fine. Go back to sleep. It was, was n-nothing.”
“Tell me, Malyshka.”
Ben could hear the command in Volkov’s voice. He huffed out a breath and slowly, reluctantly, recounted what he could of the terrifying dream. As if anyone needed to tell him who the man in the mask was. It was either Volkov or Dmitri, the two men who had hurt him the most over the last few months. Maybe Ilya as well.
“Let me see… my Babushka used to interpret dreams.” He was thoughtful for a moment. Ben hoped desperately that he’d fallen back asleep, but of course, no such luck. “Maybe this man in the mask represents that you do not know who you can trust. Perhaps you are worried about who might be hiding, lurking behind a mask to hurt you. Like your brother, kitten, he was behind a mask all along, wasn’t he?”
Don’t fucking talk about Jake! Ben wanted to scream. His brother made some mistakes, he wasn’t a monster, not like the man who had Ben chained in his bed.
Ben nodded his head obediently. Perhaps if he just went along, they could go back to sleep.
Volkov continued with his farcical dream interpretation. “Losing your teeth could be kin to you losing control. And we certainly both know you have none of that around here, do you my little scholar?”
“N-no, sir,” Ben said, barely above a whisper. He swallowed hard as Volkov’s hand drifted from his hip and down around to cup him between his legs.
Volkov stroked Ben with one hand while he turns the boy’s face with his other towards him. His mouth was on Ben’s, tongue demanding and receiving entry. Ben knew not to fight it. Maybe Volkov would be quick. Volkov pulled away.
“The only interest I’d have in taking your teeth would be if you forgot yourself while you’re performing for me. We have found some great uses for that tongue of yours, haven’t we?”
Ben closed his eyes in the dark of the room. “Y-y-yes… Yes, sir.”
“Now, forcing your mouth open…” Volkov reached behind him to the bedside table for the conveniently located ring gag. “I think we can arrange that. Open up, little scholar.”
