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The whumper kept the whumpee because they fully believed they were helping. Torture was only used when the whumpee was misbehaving, and the whumper made sure to reward the whumpee any time they followed the rules— it was just the whumpee’s fault that they didn’t listen and kept getting hurt.

#whump prompts #oh this is Frans and Cainan

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Prompt 427

“You don’t have to impress me.” The hero interrupted the villain’s speech. “I already think you’re amazing – you don’t need to tell me.”

The villain’s mouth went dry.

The hero sighed and looked at them with guileless eyes. “Hasn’t anyone ever loved you without convincing?”

#whump #whump prompts #oof the feels

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Farewell our friends

Our dear friends and whumpers, hurt/comforters and pain lovers, kidnappers and gun shot wound fans, poison, sickfic, explosion and car crash enthusiast...

This year is our sixth birthday!

Alas, six years is far too short a time to live among such excellent and admirable whumpers. We don't know half of you half as well as we should like, and we like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.

We have things to do... We've put this off for far too long...

We regret to announce — this is The End. We are going now. We bid you all a very fond farewell. Goodbye.

Mod Pan & Mod Claire

For everyone staying for the party, please give a warm welcome to our newest team of mods @gunshou , @promptsforyourwhumpfic , @mrmustachious and @fl4tlines .

Please give them time and have patience while we set everything up and while they get their feet on the ground. We hope you'll have a wonderful time together and with that being said:

#whumptober

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Power Word Pain

Been sitting on this for a while. D&D related and offers some context, but not necessary to follow along. 

TW: light body horror, implied grooming and pedophilia (not depicted)

It is already a few months into the semester, but Cainan is still practically giddy to be the young protégé of the famed inventor and respected professor, Frans Smilodeus. They hurry to the lecture hall where Cainan spends his lunches acting as Smilodeus’ assistant for an upper division class. He primarily performs menial tasks such as passing out and collecting papers. 

They walk in silence, something uncommon for the professor. Slowing his gait as they walk down the final hallway, he finally speaks. “Cainan,” he says dryly, not looking down at his ward.

“Yes, sir?” The boy perks up, eager to respond. 

"I'd like to use you for a demonstration today." 

"Yeah, of course!" Cainan agrees, thrilled to be a part of whatever his tutor has planned. 

When they walk in the room, Smilodeus’s demeanor changes from intense and decisive to the sort of bubbly attitude one would expect of an Enchantment professor. Cainan takes his seat behind the teacher’s desk, patiently awaiting his cue. After some greetings and pleasantries, the students get settled and the lecture begins:

"There are three 'power word' spells used in enchantment magic. You will not learn how to perform any of them at this school, as they are highly restricted, and should be avoided unless absolutely necessary.” His tone grows darker, “However, many of you may enter dangerous professions after your time here at the Towers, and as such should at least be familiar with these spells and their effects, should you encounter one. That is why I have asked Cainan to help me demonstrate one for you today." 

Looking over to Cainan with an inviting grin, Smilodeus extends a hand, with palm face up, summoning the boy. Cainan stands nervously after such an introduction, stepping in front of the class and taking his tutor’s outstretched hand. The college students chitter amongst themselves, excited to see the magic trick. 

Addressing the class again, Smilodeus goes on, "This spell is called 'Power Word Pain', and it is exactly how it sounds. It can cause terrible pain throughout the target's body, but only that. It is where enchantment magic reaches deep within the mind, and begins to affect the body.” Smilodeus gives Cainan’s hand an affirming squeeze. “The spell will not cause harm to them, nor is it capable of killing them,” he looks down at his ward, “despite how much it might feel like it." 

Cainan’s eyes dart up to meet his tutor’s. "What-?"

Smilodeus leans down over his cane to be face-to-face with Cainan and whispers to him, "Your body is going to try to resist the pain and force out the magic causing it. In any other circumstance I'd say that's a good thing. But, for the purposes of this demonstration, please endure it until I instruct you otherwise." 

Hesitation weighing in his lungs, Cainan takes a strained breath and opens his mouth to protest. But, how can he? He wants to impress, wants to please. Mouth open and eyes locked, Cainan exhales his anxiety and nods. 

Smile tugging at his lips, Smilodeus assures him, "don't worry. You're safe in my hands."

Squeezing his hand one more time before letting go, the professor walks a few dozen feet away and then explains, "now this can be cast at quite a distance, but the school didn't give me that big of a room." 

Everyone chuckles a bit while jotting down notes then watches with bated breath. Cainan keeps wide eyes fixed on the professor. He knows what spellcasting looks like. A gesture, an item, a wand, a string of ancient lyrics uttered. Preparing himself for any sign of what is to come, he clenches his fists by his side. His palms begin to sweat.

High on the anticipation in the room, Smilodeus finally speaks just one word in the tongue of ancient mages. Searing pain starts growing throughout Cainan's body. 

"That's all it takes, one word. No focus, no materials, no gestures or runes. It is rather insidious in that way. It is hard to catch someone casting, and difficult to prevent them from doing so." 

Cainan hears him continue to lecture to the class, but the words drown out under the waves of pain more intense than anything he's experienced. It begins as a tearing sensation just underneath his sternum, behind his ribs. He lurches forward, inhaling sharply as though something were ripping at his diaphragm. As per the request of his tutor, he suffers through it without resistance, but grits his teeth to keep composure in front of his audience. 

Smilodeus continues, "with this intense pain, it makes it harder for a target to attack, cast any spells of their own, or resist any other effects that might be cast on them." Then he looks at Cainan and beckons him with a finger, "come." 

All too familiar by now with this spell, Cainan still can’t manage to reject the command. He begins to make staggered steps towards his tutor, moving at a crawl. The pain extends through his legs as he moves. His bones compress beneath the flesh that pulses around them. He feels every contraction of the muscle tightening around his fragile bones, every electrical signal sent shooting down his nerves to compel him forward. They are embers sparking down lines of gunpowder, every step an explosion popping at his feet. It burns inside his boots, the skin surely melting off the soles. 

After a few seconds, the command wears off and Cainan stumbles, leaning into the chalkboard with his elbow and shoulder. As he hits the board, his arm twists and contorts in place, joints disconnecting beneath his weight. He screws his eyes tight, the lids nearly fuse together. His grinding teeth are about to shatter to dust on his tongue. 

"It also makes it harder for a target to move. The pain he is suffering would make anything he tries to do quite difficult, if not impossible." Smilodeus then says more quietly directly to Cainan who stands only a few yards away, "think you can keep moving this way? How are you doing?" 

Cainan, coaxed on by his tutor’s concern and encouragement, opens his eyes and nods. Stumbling that way, he continues bracing himself on the board, smudging some old lecture notes on his sleeve as he drags along. He finds the courage to speak. "It's...a lot...but–" 

Suddenly he stops speaking and moving, and feels everything tense up. It isn’t a new pain, but a prison, and his body is the cell holding him. Smilodeus is pointing his wand at him.

"Another unfortunate, and very powerful thing about this spell is that it doesn't require the caster to concentrate on it. I can do whatever else I like.” A sly smile unintentionally creeps across Smilodeus’s face. “I could even walk out of the room and leave him here like this." 

At that, all the students start stirring as the weight of the situation and the severity of the spell start to sink in. Some shift in their seats and have stopped taking notes at this sadistic display. Cainan’s heart pounds at what feels more like a threat than a hypothetical. ‘No, don’t leave me,’ his mind begs, but he is unable to utter a word. Tears sting at his eyes, not like salt, but like acid.

"I asked Cainan to be my assistant for this demonstration because I know he has the strength and determination to handle this. I assure you, most of you would not." Smilodeus looks sternly at the class, and sheaths his wand back into the hilt of his cane. The boy falls to the ground on his hands and knees. The class gasps at the thud on the linoleum. Cainan’s kneecaps pop out of place and wriggle beneath his skin, having come alive. His hands sink into the floor covered in hot glass, stabbing and burning him, branding stigmata into his palms. "Frans, stop." Cainan barely whimpers, tears carving riverbeds into his cheeks. 

Smilodeus keeps going, having either not heard the plea, or ignoring it. 

"Someone with a strong constitution may be able to withstand something like this, or shake it off entirely. But the pain until then is excruciating. Any of you who know him know that Cainan isn't a good enough performer to be pretending." The class relaxes a bit at the joke, giving some levity to the situation. Perhaps it is all just for show.

"Please!" Cainan shrieks, praying on his hands and knees for his god in front of him to offer relief, reaching a shaking arm out. When Smilodeus looks at his ward begging for him through the agony, something strikes him. "I'm nearly finished. Only a moment more." 

Cainan sees a sinister glint in the professor’s eyes, like striking the match that ignited this pain. Some sort of beast had awakened. Terror spurs him on to resist the spell, feeling the spiked metal wheels kick hard into his sides. 

"I can't–!" 

"Yes. You can." Smilodeus corrects him, voice severe. “The pain isn’t real, Cainan.”

The boy makes another attempt to push the magic from his mind. His brain swells up in his skull, pushing at the back of his eyes. The pressure strains them in their sockets but he wills them to stay in place. His stomach flips and whirls, the acrobat inducing a disorienting nausea. His intestines slither like snakes, stretching against the inside of his abdomen as they wriggle about. They bite and tear at one another. The venom stings like ice as it infects him, pumping toxic blood throughout his body. His increasingly rapid pulse pounds in his eardrums and they threaten to shatter. His heart beats against his chest, jumping around in the cavity like an excited particle, bruising and cracking his ribs. Desperately, he cries out to anyone who will listen, "HELP ME!" 

Everyone in the class jolts forward. A few students get out of their seats and run towards the boy writhing in agony. Smilodeus holds up a hand, instructing them to wait, but one woman ignores him and rushes to Cainan’s side. In a singsong voice, she inspires him, “listen to me. You can break out of it. You are stronger than this.” She rests a hand on his shoulder. Her gentle touch feels like a vice grip. “Can you breathe with me? Come on. Breathe in–” She draws in a dramatic breath for Cainan to mimic. He takes a long drag from her words, filling his lungs with refreshing nicotine. 

“ –and out.” She exhales a cool, gentle stream through pursed lips. Cainan exhales lungs full of water, having drowned in the pain, starving for air again. His body settles itself back into place, and his tears sting like salt again. 

Smilodeus looks around at his class full of students, all watching the sequence with astonishment. Some of them stood still in mid action to the boy’s cry for help. His eyes scan the faces of his shocked pupil. He sighs, and despondently states, “class dismissed.” 

Looking over to Cainan and the woman with him on the ground, Smilodeus closes the gap between them. She is searching for any sign of injury on the boy and finds none. Cainan sits back on his heels, panting. The whole ordeal only took a few moments, but the suffering lingering on Cainan’s face aged him by years. Smilodeus puts a hand on her shoulder. More gently, he goes, "I said you are dismissed." She looks up at him with worry, but notices the class had already packed up and left. To the professor, she nods at his instruction and steps out as well. 

Frans kneels down in front of his ward, whose glossy eyes stare back in awe. He pulls Cainan into a hug and runs one hand delicately through the boy’s hair, which is dampened by sweat. “You did so well, Candy Cain."

Melting into the embrace, Cainan let the affirming words and rewarding touch sooth the tension lingering in his body. Finally, he pulls back and brushes off the incident, “yeah, it wasn’t so bad. Heh.” 

#whump #affectionate whumper #obsessed whumpee #mind control #body horror #grooming #personal tag for full story > #EEEE #my writing

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Come the Slumberless To the Land of Nod, Traci Brimhall

#fave #this makes me feel things

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Whumpers with claws

Caressing Whumpee's face and having their claws graze the skin right beneath Whumpee's eye as a threat

Grabbing Whumpee's chin and forcing their thumb into their mouth to pierce Whumpee's tongue for speaking out of turn

Digging their claws into Whumpee's shoulder/neck to remind them of their place

Leaving scratch marks on Whumpee when they slap them in the face

Scratching intricate patterns into Whumpee's skin, essentially drawing on them

Letting their claws drag along a surface to announce their arrival

Claws on a chalkboard for Whumpees with sensitive ears

Dragging Whumpee around by embedding their claws into them

#whump prompts

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i wonder if these will get flagged ,dfghkfdg sometimes i miss my nsfw twitter

#NSFW #shibari #bondage

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#horror #surreal #art

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“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m not going to kill you.” Whumper whispered, crouching down by Whumpee’s side. Their gaze softened with pity, a sliver of guilt twisting their chest as they reached up to cup their captive’s tearstained cheek. “No, you’re much too valuable to lose.”

#whump dialogue

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Whumper tilted Whumpee’s chin up slightly and stared into their eyes.

“Where’d all the fight go?”

Whumpee didn’t say anything but they didn’t need to. Whumper reached into Whumpee’s mind and sifted through their thoughts. “I will beat the ever loving shit out of you.” The voice was loud and clear from Whumpee’s mind.

Whumper chuckled. “There it is.”

#whump dialogue #mind reading #loooooove it

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Contains: Humiliation, Punishment for minor mistakes, Sadistic Whumpers, Party Whump

All eyes on them. It was just a small mistake, but that'd been enough to gain the attention of the party. Carrying glasses of drinks around was quite the balancing act, and with the way he was still sore, he was hardly surprised when a twinge of pain caused him to drop the platter. Glass shards scattered and the clatter escaped no one's notice, especially that of whumper.

"Whumpee, what are you doing? You should really be more careful, what if someone gets hurt?"

"Im sorry, ma'am." Whumpee muttered, already on his knees trying to clean up the mess.

"Take off your shoes."

Whumpee looked back and forth between people, now all of whom were staring at him. "Right here, right now?"

"You know I'm not going to ask twice."

Whumpee begrudgingly removed his shoes, hearing the snickers from around him which he tried to ignore. He knew he'd get no sympathy from this particular crowd.

"Good, now I want to you sweep up that glass, and deposit anything you pick up in your shoes. Put them back on when you're done, and you can continue serving our guests."

Whumpee's face fell, eyes now glued to the floor. "I-I...yes, ma'am." He knew there was no point in refusing. Keeping his eyes down as he carefully scooped up the glass remains with his hands. One handful at a time, he started dumping them into his shoes while trying to make it as flat as he possibly could. Thankfully, most people had gone back to their quiet conversations, but he could still feel some eyes boring into him as he carefully slid his feet back into his shoes.

Despite his best efforts, he could feel the glass shift and crack further under his weight. With the relentless stabbing in the soft skin of his feet even through the socks, he knew he'd be bleeding. Probably a few new scars to add to the mix as well. He winced as he tried to take a few steps forward, each more painful than the last. He could already spy guests across the room, guzzling down beverages just so they could watch him stumble and try to refill their glasses. It was going to be a long evening...

#what a unique torture method #I love it #whump

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#NSFW #nipple piercing

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i hope all my fellow whump writers know that i would get on my knees and beg for them

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“do you have a type?”

uh yeah, women I’m slightly afraid of

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that thing where whumpee scuttles backwards on the ground as whumper approaches them and then their back hits the wall and they look up at whumper with terror and tears in their eyes

#fave

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what emotion do you guys write from? like sikens is panic. mary olivers hope. what is yours?

#passion and anger

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you‘re fucked up. and you’re tired. you are so, so tired.

so you write

you write them broken, you write them human, you write them spitting blood out of bruised lips, sneering and crying.

you write them desperate, you write them lonely in their bathroom, eyes red. you write them with broken mirrors and you write them angry.

you write them like they could be loved, like they are on the edge of being loved, like they could just be loved if they were only to try harder, to be enough.

you write them hated, and hating themselves, you write them ashamed and begging to God, you write them ears ringing. you write them panicked and aching, and yearning and empty.

you write them hungry, you write them with cracked lips.

you write them and you pretend that it’s not you in the pages.

you write them and pray to God yourself, that you’re not being written too.

you write them.

you’re so tired.

you keep writing them.