#noncon touch
The Party
I’m hosting an event at @the-whumpers-soiree! This scene is the first and may serve as an example. Outside of that, please enjoy as you would any of my drabbles. <3
(tw: alcohol consumption, kidnapping, knife, noncon touch, intimate/creepy whumper)
Whumpee clutched their drink close, hanging on the wall. Their eyes scanned the room, darting between the flashes of shimmering light in the dim room. The music was loud - but not too loud. The room was full - but not too full. The drinks were strong - but not too….well, you get the idea. Everything was right.
So…what felt so wrong?
Whumpee’s eyes flicked from guest to guest. Smiling faces. Some dancing. Some mingling. Laughing. Joking. A few couples wandered off to the corners into the shadows, evidently enjoying being very close to each other.
Something was wrong.
Whumpee sipped their drink tentatively, trying to choose their next move. They’d only been here half an hour, they couldn’t just leave already. This party was supposed to be for new opportunities. New friends for a new city. New ideas and new roots. A New Year’s party for the new them.
They wished they at least had some friends to huddle in the corner with. Plenty of others lingered along the edges, also watching the crowd - but Whumpee was not nearly social enough to go introduce themself to one of them. Why did they even come to an event designed to help newcomers find new friends if they couldn’t even build up the courage to go make the new friends?
Pathetic.
This place was too nice for them anyway. They were so underdressed for the location - clothes entirely too comfortable to take comfort in. Though, plenty of others seemed to feel the same way, so maybe it wasn’t so bad. Whumpee assumed the party planners just didn’t properly disclose how nice the penthouse venue would be with its glass balconies and matte hardwood floors. They wished they’d have at least picked a button down or something, though.
They tinkered on their phone, trying to decide how long they would make themself stay before they made a move to leave. Or…maybe they should pick a target goal? Find someone else who was lingering alone and try to just……hide with them? Solidarity, and all that.
Their eyes locked onto someone nearby - someone sipping their drink as timidly as Whumpee - just hiding in the shadows like them.
Perfect.
Before Whumpee could make a move toward their new potential friend/hiding-in-shame buddy, a new face strolled up to them.
Whumpee blinked up at the stranger as they smiled down at Whumpee.
“Hi! I saw you hanging out over here and…thought you might like a friend?”
“Wh- um - uh- yeah. Yeah - I mean. Hi.”
The stranger laughed lightly. “Not a social butterfly, then?”
Whumpee chewed on their cheek. “Nope - no, not exactly my forte.”
The stranger smiled warmly at them, holding out their hand. “Whumper. Nice to meet you.”
Whumpee shifted their glass into their left hand, patting the condensation off on their shirt before shaking the stranger’s -no, Whumper’s- hand. “I’m Whumpee.”
Their eyes stayed on Whumper’s grip, not quite daring to look up. They blinked at the red glowstick around the other’s wrist. Then to their own blue one. “I - uh - I didn’t realize they had other colors.”
Whumper pulled their hand back, glancing at the red glowstick. “Oh, yeah, they must have run out of blue.”
Whumpee immediately moved to unsnap theirs. “Did you want blue? I can trade y-”
“No no no,” Whumper smirked. “I think red suits me better than it would you. But thank you anyway. You’re a sweet little thing.”
Heat flushed into Whumpee’s cheeks, threatening to burn them if they didn’t get a grip. “Th-thanks-” Fuck what am I even thanking them for?? Whumpee’s stomach turned and soured. Was that…butterflies?
No. No, something wrong. Still wrong.
The drinks and the music and the kind stranger had them almost forgetting for a moment.
Their breath stuttered to a stop as the backs of Whumper’s hand pressed lightly to their cheek, pressed to the flush. Whumpee’s wide eyes stared up at them, twitching back further into the wall. Or did they want to lean in?? Fuck, they were so confused. So close. Too close? Maybe too close.
Whumper’s eyebrows furrowed in concern. “You seem a little warm, should we go out to the balcony and get you some fresh air?”
Whumpee cleared their throat, tipping their face away from the touch until Whumper retracted their hand. “N-no, I’m okay, but thank you.”
Whumper gave them a charming smile, stepping closer.
Fingers wrapped around theirs, prying the drink from their hand with ease. Whumpee watched as it was taken from them - then set to the side on a small table.
Their heart kicked into a new gear as Whumper stepped closer again - holding them frozen with just a look.
Whumper’s tone was so soft, but laced with something…something darker. Their palm pressed against the wall next to Whumpee’s head when Whumpee tried to take a step to the side. “I really think you should come outside with me.”
Whumpee managed to retreat further into the wall, eyes sliding to the side to see if anyone else was looking. If anyone else noticed their discomfort. If anyone even knew they were there in the shadows.
“N-no, I’m okay, I should probably b-” They flinched as something sharp and cool pressed to their side. Stammering, “wh-wha-t is tha-t-”
Whumper chuckled softly, leaning in to press their lips to Whumpee’s ear. Hot breath danced across their skin, whispering, “It’s a knife, sweetheart. Haven’t you ever had a knife on you before?”
Whumpee swallowed thickly, panic stretching out from their stomach and pooling in their lungs, pulling their breaths shorter and sharper and quicker.
“Wh-what are you doing??”
“Mm…not much. Not yet. Right now, I’m just….persuading you to change your mind about the balcony. Then we can talk more.”
“I- I don’t w-” Whumpee’s protestation squeaked to a stop as the blade pressed further into them, enough to hurt.
“What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you.”
Whumpee’s legs were trembling. Shaking hands gripping Whumper’s arms for support. “Y-yeah - yeah let’s….le-ts…balcony-”
“Hmmm…” Whumper smiled against their neck, smirk prickling the tender flesh. “That’s what I thought you said.”
Whumpee’s brain was still scrambling to catch up as Whumper tugged them to the side - grip bruising deep into the muscle above their elbow. They let themself be dragged along, throwing frantic looks over their shoulder. Not sure what to do. What to say. How to stop this. If it was even that bad? Were they overreacting?
No they pulled a KNIFE on you-
They’d barely decided to start struggling by the time Whumper pulled them out into the cool night air, spinning them back against the glass railing of the balcony. The edge of the glass bruised into them - just below the waist.
Not high enough - definitely not high enough.
Whumper was on them in a second. One hand gripping the glass on either side of them. So close. So fucking close. Boxing them in. Pressing them back until Whumpee was leaning back over the darkened shimmering city.
Whumpee’s harsh, stuttering breaths echoed in their skull as they threw a look behind and under them, looking down to the endless plummet - to the ant-like cars zipping back and forth an eternity away. The world seemed to sway and pull, trying to wrench them down into it.
Whumpee sucked in air to scream, but the sound choked out at the base of their throat as Whumper leaned in - forehead pressed to theirs. Whumper’s eyes held theirs. Dark. Hungry.
A hand wrapped around their throat, threatening to shove them over the edge.
Whumpee’s trembling hands wound tight into Whumper’s shirt.
“Go on.” The hand pushed further. “Go ahead and scream if you want. You’ll be falling before anyone can see what happened.”
Whumpee choked out a sob - the sound pressed hard against Whumper’s palm, choking them further and drawing a whimper from their lips. “I- I w- I won’t. I won’t. I won’t- won’t scr-eam-”
Whumper gave them a small smile, pulling back just a touch. The hand stayed on their throat. Whumper stayed close. The glass stayed uncracked and under them.
They made the mistake of looking down again.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-
Whumpee’s eyes screwed shut as strangled breaths slid in and out of them to a stuttering cadence.
“Wh-what do you want?”
“How long have you been in the city?”
Whumpee’s eyes blinked open. “Wai- what?”
Their throat constricted as Whumper’s grip tightened. “I don’t like repeating myself, Whumpee.”
The panic was already fully flushed through their system, buckling their knees and prompting every muscle to scream at them - begging them to run. Whumpee tried not to shrink further. Some small bit of logic in the back of their head told them that they couldn’t break the glass, but their mind was screaming that they would if they pushed back against it any harder. The edge was already working a bruise against their spine as they quivered under Whumper’s gaze.
“I- I moved in l-last month.”
“Any family nearby?”
Whumpee’s face screwed up. “…n-o”
“Roommate?”
A tear finally leaked from the corner of their eye, dripping warmth down their cheek. “N-no-”
“Hmm….job?”
Whumpee choked back a sob, eyes pinning shut again. “Hav-haven’t found one yet-”
“Mm…so…in essence - no one would miss you if you just…..disappeared.”
Whumpee’s breath locked up in their lungs. Burning. Filling their mind with concrete and sending sour fear tingling deeper into their bones. They tried to squirm away. “N-no - please just let me-”
Whumpee froze in place, squeaking and clutching tighter as Whumper pressed them back over nothingness again.
“You’re not going anywhere. In fact, you’re not going to do a single. thing. that I don’t allow for the rest of your life. Got that?”
Whumpee twitched out a small, stuttering nod, flinching back.
“Good.”
Whumper pulled back, lacing a hand around the back of Whumpee’s neck - peeling them off the glass and guiding them back inside.
“Let’s get your coat. We’re going home.”
.
Event tag: @the-whumpers-soiree
(tags:@prisonerwhump@whumpawink@mabledonut@jadeocean46910@paleassprince@distinctlywhumpthing@tropes-for-my-md-daydreams@batfacedliar-yetagain@suspicious-whumping-egg@wormwriting@meowsikbox@villainsvictim@throwawaywhumper@wild-selenite-caffine@whumpasaurus101@thecitythatdoesntsleep@whumpworld@cryptidhongo@rose-pinkie@whumpberry-cookie@rainbows-and-whumperflies@astralrunic@pickywhumpreader@cursedscribbles@uvanuva)
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.”
Brother’s Keeper
Chapter 13: Times Up, Part 1
Tagging List:@i-can-even-burn-salad@peachy-panic@deluxewhump@arwenadreamer@whumpcereal@melancholy-in-the-morning@dont-touch-my-soup@keeper-of-all-the-random-things@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump@oddsconvert@melennui@susiequaz12@morning-star-whump@crystalquartzwhump@whump-and-other-things@mylifeisonthebookshelf@reflected-pain@hold-him-down (I hope I’m not forgetting anyone - please let me know if I am and I’ll fix it. I’m still getting used to this)
Thanks again to the absolutely AMAZING and LOVELY @whumpcereal who has truly been a fantastic sounding board to help me get through some REALLY difficult subject matter over the next several upcoming chapters. I couldn’t have done this without her.
WARNING: This chapter as well as SEVERAL subsequent chapters will contain explicit noncon. If you prefer not to read, I’ll totally understand. Heed the tags because this gets dark.
Ben blinked his eyes open. The sun was warm on his face, and he was sitting in one of his favorite spots, the window seat that faced west in his bedroom at his parent’s house.
“Rise and shine, sleepyhead.” Zoe’s voice was soft in his ear. Her touch was just as soft as her fingertips brushed the hair from his face. Her palm cupped his cheek, and Ben leaned into her touch, letting his eyes flutter closed again. Soft lips brushed against his; fingers tangled in his hair.
He pulled back slightly and looked into her deep green eyes. “I missed you.”
“What do you mean you missed me? I’ve been right here.”
“No… I…” A shiver ran through Ben, but he shouldn’t be cold. He glanced out the window to the back garden his mother had spent the last several years perfecting. He could see bees and butterflies drifting lazily through the spring air.
Suddenly, a sharp, hot line of pain arced across his back, and then another across his chest. Ben gasped and looked down at himself. A moment ago, he’d had on his favorite pair of soft flannel pajama pants and a clean white cotton t-shirt. Now, his chest was bare. His feet were bare. Why? Ben loved socks. Soft white cotton socks were one of his favorite things. He hated being barefoot.
Zoe didn’t seem to notice. She curled up next to him, tucking him against her soft body. He breathed in her scent, smelling roses and toothpaste as she tilted his head to hers, and for a moment, he forgot everything else.
“I love you,” he whispered just before their lips met again.
“Love you too, Benny.”
Ben sighed into her as their lips and tongues moved in symphony.
Everything seemed perfect until Zoe pulled back; there was blood on her face, on her shirt.
“Benny? You’re bleeding.”
Benny glanced down to see blood welling up from the gashes across his chest. Sharp, hot pain and stinging cold flooded him, and he jerked awake.
*!*!*!*!*
Ben’s drugged state began to slowly lift. There was a beeping sound, but he wasn’t in the hospital. There was no mattress underneath him, no blanket covering him. He was on his back, something cold and hard beneath him. And he couldn’t really move.
Like so many times before, the memories of where he was and why he was in so much pain came flooding back over him. Sometimes, he hated waking up, but the last few times– really, he didn’t know how long it had been–were hazy. Like, the events of the last few days were out of reach.
He remembered the whipping. God, did he remember being whipped. But, other than that, he could only sort of remember being strapped to the force feeding chair. There might have been cold water on him. A shower maybe? He’d been naked again. He hated being naked.
Ben tried to open his eyes. His vision was blurry.
“There you are.” Ben tensed, but the voice wasn’t Volkov’s. “Open up, let me see you,” Andrei prompted gently.
Ben blinked a few times, and the room spun slowly around him. He was on his back, splayed out on the table that he’d been strapped to so many times before.
He finally focused enough to bring Andrei’s face into view.
“Hey, better?”
Ben didn’t answer. What did that mean anyway? He noticed an IV going into his left arm.
“Wha-?”
“Volkov wanted the drugs out of your system before tonight.”
“To…night?”
“It’s been a week.”
“I don’t… A week? No. It’s only been a few days since he let Dmitri whip me.”
Andrei shook his head sadly. “You’ve been out of it, strung out on drugs and…” Andrei lowered his voice, “pain killers,” his voice returned to his normal level, “for a week now.”
Ben took a moment to process what Andrei was telling him. Then it hit him like a thunderclap. All Volkov’s promises and threats of the last week. His eyes went wide and the color drained from his face. His stomach flipped.
Morning reblog since I posted sooooo late. Heed the tags, here there be noncon.
behavior modification, part ten
taglist:@darkthingshappen,@oddsconvert,@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump,@aut0psy-s,@reflected-pain,@mylifeisonthebookshelf (let me know if you’d like to be added!)
content warnings for: adult language, creepy/intimate whumper, forced nudity, muzzles, restraints, stress positions, shock collars, minor burns, dehumanization, emotional manipulation, brief physical violence, a little bit of blood, noncon touch, noncon kissing, implied future noncon
part ten, jack learns his positions
Jack is so good for him.
Ivan sees the scarlet humiliation in the boy’s cheeks, but Jack opens his pretty pink mouth and lets Ivan take care of his teeth. It’s a sight, sweet little Jack with his mouth dropped open, waiting for whatever Ivan might give him. Ivan grips the boy’s stubbled chin–they’ll have to deal with that later–and slips the toothbrush into his mouth, carefully moving the bristles over Jack’s teeth and gums. Jack doesn’t fight him, even when Ivan prods the inside of his cheeks with the head of the brush. Jack’s cheeks stretch beautifully around the intrusion. Perhaps he really was made for this.
