#tw noncon touching
A White Rose (Pt. 9)
(This series is created using the prompts from @summer-of-whump)
Continued from here
CW: Noncon touching, dehumanization
Killian leaned back in his chair, listening apathetically to the ramblings of the others in the room. Sometimes he wondered why he even still bothered to show up at Nicholas’s house.
The door opened and Killian glanced over as the man with the wings came in. Shea— he had said that was his name— glanced towards Nicholas’s feet and then quickly away. Something seemed different about him… he seemed somehow even more timid than before.
“Shea.” Nicholas said and Shea flinched.
“Yes, sir?”
“Bring in some drinks.”
“Yes, sir.” Shea gave a slight nod and left the room again.
Killian watched him go.
“Killian.”
“Hm?” Killian directed his gaze to Nicholas, who had said his name.
“You like Shea?”
“He has nice wings.” Killian shrugged. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone with wings as black as his.”
Nicholas smiled. “Yeah. He is kind of fucking stupid though.”
“What do you mean?”
“He doesn’t ever do anything except for what he’s told to do. Otherwise he just sits in his room all day.”
“Doesn’t he ever try to push back if you tell him to do something he doesn’t want to?” Killian asked, feeling that he already knew the answer.
Nicholas laughed. “No! He’s too much of a fucking coward to do that! He never even asks me to stop if I do something he doesn’t like.”
Shea reentered the room with a tray of drinks. After he had passed them out, Nicholas called him over. Shea obeyed without hesitation.
Killian’s stomach turned as Nicholas stroked Shea’s wings, causing him to flinch violently each time. Killian felt even more ill as Nicholas pulled Shea to sit on his lap and Shea’s face paled drastically.
Most people didn’t view the Winged as humans— and maybe they weren't— but whatever species they belonged to was every bit as intelligent and relational as humans. Killian wished he could set them all at liberty.
Instead, however, Killian was forced to sit in this room and watch as this poor shell of a person was mocked and taken advantage of.
Despite obvious discomfort, Shea never once made any move to resist or push Nicholas away. Nicholas seemed to be getting frustrated by this and was becoming increasingly more invasive.
In the next hour of chatting that passed, Shea glanced at Killian once and immediately looked away when he saw that Killian was already looking. His eyes seemed to be pleading for help, but there was nothing Killian could do. If he said something, it would take away any chance Killian had of getting Shea out. So he had to watch.
After a while, Nicholas seemed to get bored with trying to elicit a response and sent Shea away.
“I’ll be right back.” Killian said a few minutes later, excusing himself.
A White Rose (Pt. 8)
(This series is created using the prompts from @summer-of-whump) (This part is highly suggestive. Please proceed past the cut with caution. There is no explicit sexual content on this blog.)
Continued from here
CW: Noncon touching, implied rape
Shea flinched as Nicholas touched one of his wings. Since making the discovery about Shea’s wings, he had hardly taken his hands off.
Nicholas grabbed Shea’s hair and pulled him backwards, brushing his lips against his ear. “Y'know, I’ve been thinking about ways to break you. Since pain doesn’t seem to have any great affect on you, I thought maybe we’d try something new.”
Shea whimpered, squirming a little as Nicholas continued to stroke his wing. It wasn’t a voluntary reaction, per se. The reaction was mostly reflex.
Shea didn’t understand what Nicholas wanted. He kept talking about ‘breaking’ Shea. As if he was put together in the first place… Master Wilson had already 'broken’ him as a child. Broken him to silently tolerate whatever treatment he received. What more did Nicholas want?
“Why don’t you come with me and I’ll show you what I’ve thought of.” Nicholas kissed Shea’s neck and Shea tensed.
“S-sir— I don’t think—”
“Good. You’re not supposed to, so shut up.”
—
Shea sat in the corner of his room, knees pulled up to his chest and wings shielding him. He cried silently, trying to calm his breathing. Nicholas had left him alone now, but Shea still didn’t feel safe— not even here, in the only room he had been able to feel comfort in for years.
Shea jumped when he heard a sound, peering out from behind his wings, but there was no one there. It was just the house settling.
He didn’t want to think about what had happened. He didn’t want to remember the way Nicholas had touched him. Even though Shea didn’t know a lot— having never received any kind of formal instruction— he still knew that what had just happened between him and Nicholas was not proper or appropriate by any means— regardless of the offense committed. Shea couldn’t even think of a single thing he had done wrong.
Even though he didn’t want to think about it, it was all that was playing in his mind. Over and over and over again it played. Shea couldn’t block it out.
He wished he knew what Nicholas wanted him to do so that he would stop trying to break him (whatever he meant by that).
If he only knew, Shea would have done whatever Nicholas wanted. He just never wanted to live through thatagain.
“Shea.”
Shea jumped at the sound of Nicholas’s voice, quickly getting to his feet. “Y-yes, sir?” He shrunk back a little as Nicholas stepped closer and he thought he saw Nicholas smile.
“Get dressed. I’m having company over and you’re going to wait on us.”
“Yes, sir.”
Nicholas brushed a tear off Shea’s cheek, making him flinch. “And quit crying before you come out. You don’t want people to see you like that, do you?”
“N-no, sir.” Shea muttered, wiping the rest of the tears off his face.
June 16th- Chase and Catch
Cw: running, chasing, exhaustion, uhh falling, tripping, tackling, noncon touching, pinning, blood, head injury, uhhh idk what else
Hero couldn’t stop running.
Their lungs burned and their limbs ached, and by god they couldn’t
fucking breathe,but they had to keep running.
They could feel their stamina dwindling, every last shred of energy leaking from their tired muscles until they felt like each stride was draining away at their very life’s core, but they couldn’t fucking stop.
For every step they seemed to take, Villain took two.
Hero darted through the alleyways, the heels of their boots clicking loudly against the asphalt as they dodged past trash bags and dumpsters, barely managing to avoid face planting. Their feet were long past numb, a dull and heavy sort of pain beginning to creep up their legs as blisters undoubtedly formed and popped along their heels.
They didn’t dare look behind them as they took a sharp turn, nearly skidding into a brick wall as they bolted down a smaller, hidden alleyway. The half a second the action would take would undoubtedly lead to their demise.
They could hear Villain, hear the sharp thumpsof their enemy’s footsteps, drawing closer to them with each breath. They could hear Villain’s labored breaths as if they were right next to them, breathing in their ear-
Oh god they were catching up-
A loud cry tore from Hero’s throat as a weight crashed into their back, sending them sprawling to the ground. Stars exploded in front of their vision as their jaw knocked hard against the pavement, blood instantly beginning to fill their mouth. They let out a low groan, squeezing their eyes shut as a rough hand grabbed them by the hair and quickly flipped them over, a broad figure straddling their hips.
Villain grinned, their eerily sharp teeth glinting in the streetlight.
“I caught you.” They whispered.
June 7th- Experimentation
Cw: forced stripping (kinda—non sexual, just a shirt), noncon partial nudity, restraints, threats, noncon touching, implied noncon body mod, noncon surgery, lab whump, implied torture and kidnapping, threats, mentioned gore (not really)
Whumpee let out a strained cry, their pupils dilating as Whumper flicked on the bright O.R. lights. Their limbs moved on their own, twisting and thrashing against the restraints that kept them pinned to the operating table.
“WHUMPER- WHUMPER PLEASE-” They screamed, hot tears dribbling down their cheeks, craning their neck as they tried to see what their captor was doing.
Whumper’s movements were quick and calculated, almost mechanical as they moved around the frigid cold room. They didn’t bother to look up as they washed their hands in a plain sink, drying them on a sterile white towel, before slipping plain see-through medical scrubs over their typical outfit.
“Oh hush,” They sighed, surgical mask already pulled over their face as they slid their hands into a pair of latex gloves. “You’ll be fine.”
“NO- NONONO WHUMPER- PLEASE-” Whumpee’s eyes blew wide as they watched Whumper circle the room, picking up a tray of surgical instruments and carrying them closer.
“I said be quiet,” Whumper snapped, slamming the tray down on a stand closer to the table with much more force than necessary. Whumpee flinched at the clanging of metal. “Maybe I’ll cut your vocal chords while I’m at it, hm? That’ll sure teach you…”
Whumpee’s body went cold.
“NO-” They yelped, before quickly realizing their mistake and shutting their mouth. They instead shook their head, more tears welling in their eyes as they watched Whumper pick up a pair of metal shears.
“That’s much more like it,” Whumper grumbled, stepping forwards and grabbing the hem of Whumpee’s shirt.
Whumpee barely had time to panic before Whumper cut the tattered material clean down the center. A small sob slipped from their lips, the cold metal just grazing their skin as Whumper cut both the sleeves, and tore away the fabric.
Goosebumps pricked against Whumpee’s exposed skin, making them shudder as Whumper set down the scissors.
They watched anxiously as Whumper stepped away from the table, moving out of Whumper’s line of sight.
A few moments of tense waiting later, Whumpee jolted as an oxygen mask was pressed over their mouth and nose, the elastic band pulled back around their head and fastened in place.
“Now,” Whumper stepped back around into their sight, eyes creasing with a grin as they sauntered over to the tray of instruments, looking over them for a moment before picking up a wickedly sharp looking scalpel. “Where to begin?”
May 26th- “I don’t know what you mean”
[gambling | drugged | paranoia]
Cw: noncon drugging, noncon touching, drooling, demeaning language, creepy whumper, pet whump-ish, Whumpee referred to as “pet”, implied captivity
Whumpee’s eyes lazily drifted open and closed, their vision blurring more with each slow blink.
The world around them was a canvas of color, golden ringlets surrounding the flickering candles that lit the table.
Their head felt… light.
Like it was stuffed with cotton, muddling their thoughts and turning their brain to mush.
Whumper smirked, dragging their fingers through their pet’s hair, scratching Whumpee’s scalp as their head rested against Whumper’s leg.
A small chuckle slipped from Whumper’s lips as they watched a small bit of drool drip from Whumpee’s parted lips.
So pathetic…
Who knew it only took two small white pills to render Whumpee completely and utterly helpless.
