#royal whumper

[whump-in-the-closet]

Whump Idea (V)

A royal Whumper who is after a group of rebels. In order to capture the rebels, they set a trap— charging an innocent civilian with being the rebel leader and having them publicly flogged

In a horrible twist of fate, the innocent civilian is in fact the rebel leader themselves. All the cards have fallen into Whumper’s hands.

#hyperspercific whump prompts #whump #whumpblr #whump prompt #whump community #whump ideas #whump scenario #royal whumper #rebel whumpee #outlaw whumpee #idk what else to tags this #cw flogging

[shywhumpauthor]

Royal Whumper aesthetics got me thinkin

A special clasp built into the base of their throne to hook the chains of their captured enemy to, so they are made to forever kneel by the ruler’s feet, Blood dripping to a royal red carpet before Whumper’s boots.

(Prompt 16)

#it’s not really a prompt but it’s been on my mind so I’ll share #whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #its me coal #coal wrote something #whumpee #whumper #whump prompt #whump prompts #royal whumper #writing prompt #writing prompts #creepy whumper #captured whumpee #captivity whump #intimate whumper #whump drabble #kidnapped whumpee #abused whumpee #prompt #royal prompt #story prompt #whump aesthetic #whump tropes #whump trope #writing ideas #whump idea #whump ideas

[cultivating-whimpers]

{Cw: Implied Noncon/Dubcon}

~~~~~

“I believe that to have been a success,” Whumpee says, pleased as he gazes out of the carriage window, “the party was ruined and the hosts have no idea we were behind it.” 

“Excellent, marvellous work, Whumpee,” Whumper hums. “You’ve done very well.”

Whumpee smiles, more than happy that he’s gained Whumper’s approval for the task he had been given.

Whumper’s hand finds its way to Whumpee’s thigh, squeezing lightly. “I believe this is something to celebrate.”

Whumpee tenses at the touch, throat tightening. The happiness he had been feeling quickly draining from his body. “I.. I had actually been hoping to go directly to my room after we arrived home.” 

“Splendid idea, I’ll join you.” Whumper’s hand travels a bit higher. 

Whumpee feels nauseated, their chest tight as they attempt to control their breathing. 

“...I wish to rest, m’lord… The party and wrecking it had been extremely tiring…” he tries, voice quieter than before.

“Whumpee.. Always so modest and hesitant to accept your rewards,” Whumper sighs, leaning closer to press a kiss to his neck. “Let me reward you for your hard work.” 

The smallest whimper comes from Whumpee’s throat, they’re trembling under each of Whumper’s touches. “..Of… Of course, m-m’lord.”

~~~~~

~C.W.~

#My Cultivation #fantasy whump #medieval whump #whumpblr #whump #whump prompt #tw noncon #tw dubcon #noncon whump #whumpee #whumper #writing prompts #whump inspiration #whump thoughts #my prompt #my writing #royal whumper #long prompt #I can't think of any more tags

[whumperofworlds]

A royal Whumper pulling at the chains attached to a rebel Whumpee, forcing them to get closer to the royal. They smirked down at the defiant person who dared defy them.

"This is what you get for trying to destroy my life."

#brennus vibes #whump #whump prompt #royal whumper #whumpee #whumper #captivity #defiant whumpee #chained up

[whumpwillow]

Captured royal whumpee being tied up in the throne room of an enemy kingdom, acting as both a trophy and a threat to anyone who goes against whumper

when i read this, i read it as “tied to the throne in the enemy kingdom” which i thought was honestly such a power move

#whump #whump prompt #willow answers #answered asks #whump prompts #whumpee #whump tropes #royal whumper #royal whump #royal whumpee #royalty whump

[whump-softie]

When they captured the Siren, the world lost its sound. Everywhere the King looked, everything he heard or commanded, was grey and boring and dull.

But the only way to truly capture the Siren’s voice, their unexplainable gift to command, to demand, was to ensure there was a contingency plan. A person incapable of falling victim, of succumbing, of listening.

When they forced the strongest soldier down, the King had his hand over the Siren’s mouth, knife to their throat. When they tortured the strongest soldier, over and over, forced into submission, took away their voice, took away their hearing, stole their world’s sound, the King only waited patiently.

The only way to ensure the Siren could not speak ill upon the King, could not demand someone to free them, kill them, kill the King, was to deafen someone strong enough to stop them.

When the King held his first meeting since the capture of the Siren, the room was silent. For the King, the people hushed their whispers and bowed their heads. For the Siren, they tiptoed like ghosts and stared like reflections.

For the soldier, who couldn’t hear a single thing, who couldn’t voice their thoughts, the room was quiet and still. For the soldier, throat still bandaged, ears still throbbing, the room would always be silent.

#siren whumpee #soldier whumpee #soldier whumper #royal whumper #royal whump #whump #whumpee #Whumper #whump drabble #whump idea #deaf whumpee #deaf whumper #king whumper

[whump-me-all-night-long]

"Just keep talking. You're only making it worse for yourself."

- Lonesome

"Just keep talking," the prince said with a lazy smirk, leaning against the dark, damp dungeon wall. "You're only making it worse for yourself."

The thief scoffed, attempting to make themself larger despite hanging rather limply from the chains around their wrists. Spitting a glob of blood-tinted saliva at the royal's feet, they snapped, "Oh, just get on with it already. All the anticipation and suspense is getting a bit tedious."

With a bored shrug, the prince pushed himself upright, walking leisurely to the shelf of torture instruments. Picking up some wicked-looking knives, he said casually, "I'm terribly sorry for boring you. If there's one thing I hate—besides dirty thieving rats like yourself—it's disappointing a captive audience."

Finally settling on a particularly terrifying blade, the prince strolled over to the thief, who was desperately trying to maintain their facade of calm, cool, and collected. Baring their bloody teeth, they stared into the prince's ice cold eyes. "I won't talk," they growled with gritted teeth.

The prince smiled at them, perfectly straight pearly whites gleaming. "I know," they said, running the cool blade across the side of the thief's face, just enough for their breath to hitch and their body to tense. "You won't talk. You will sing. And sing beautifully at that."

Then the prince began.

#leigh writes #whump writing #whump snippet #whump drabble #royal whumper #thief whumpee #criminal whumpee #prince whumper #captivity #hehe this was fun #thankie lonesome 💜 #and i will NOT turn this into a series #.........unless.......?

[whump-cravings]

oh my your prompts are so amazing <3 would you happen to have any for a royal whumper like a king or queen who somehow obtains a whumpee-captive from their enemy kingdom? thanks c:

ajsdhdhfja oh nooo 😊🥰🥺 anon all this praise is gonna go to my head

So I originally interpreted this ask to mean a royal (or noble) whumpee-captive but then I realized that you didn’t specify so it could literally be anybody. still, royal whump (either way) goes brrrrr so!

The Political Hostage

It was common practice to hold the children of your enemies/potential enemies hostage (I suspect historical hostages of this nature were probably treated alright lmao but this is fiction and we can do what we want)!

“A hostage was a form of surety [...] in order to guarantee an understanding by a third person.” This makes a hostage politically distinct from a captive, “who is deprived of liberty, but not as a surety.”

@tendertenebrosity​‘s Aeden Windblade is a good example of this

Also, when the hostage becomes just a captive because their people didn’t want them when shit hit the fan? Priceless. Now they’re a perfect target for the anger of those crossed.

The Self-Sacrificing Royal

Whether it’s for their citizens or someone dear to them, this whumpee voluntarily gave themselves up

If they don’t want their whumper to go after everybody else, they better behave themselves!

Or maybe now that they’re under the whumper’s thumb, it doesn’t matter what they do :)

The Betrayed Royal

Maybe they’re the rightful heir to a throne but when betrayed by a sibling, they were shipped off to a previously-enemy kingdom

Maybe an underling sold them out and delivered them into the hands of the enemy

Maybe they’re sold by their parents or by a bunch of other nobles

The Married Royal

Though they married into this new royal family to ease tension, they aren’t treated well/their homeland is still considered an enemy

Obvious possibility is domestic violence; their spouse treats them like shit

Or maybe their spouse is oblivious/ambivalent to them and everyone else treats them like shit

Maybe their spouse knows about the abuse but can only be a caretaker/co-whumpee because whumper is untouchable

The Conquered Royal

Can be paired with self-sacrifice, betrayed, and/or married

Alternatively, they fell in an attack by another kingdom.

Now they’re being kept around to earn the goodwill of their people...

...or just because whumper feels like it...

or because the whumper wants something from them

The possibilities are endless tbh!! I love royal whumpees so much :3c

#whump prompts #royal whumper #royal whumpee #whump inspo #royalty whump

[whumpofdory]

The Spoiled Prince, Part 9

CW: graphic branding, begging, brainwashing, pet whump

Callum fell asleep shortly after Alvard left. He awoke to the sound of Evine’s voice. “Please, if you hurt him any more he could die! He isn’t used to this. Couldn’t he get shocked or something?”

“The phrase is “go into shock”, and I can handle it if he does. Wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened in these cells and I’m sure it won’t be the last either.” Callum felt a boot connect with his side and he grunted, turning onto the opposite side and curling in on himself.

“What do you want? Haven’t you done enough to me already?” Callum all but whispered. His collar was still on, but had been dirtied by the cell. Alvard didn’t mind; he was used to the layer of grime that covered things here. 

“I haven’t done nearly as much as I plan to, pet.” He walked around Callum and kicked his wounds on his back, making the boy cry out in pain and arch backwards, stretching the already shredded skin. 

“Please, your majesty, give him some time to heal. Then you can do whatever you want.” Evine tried to plead with the unfeeling golden eyes. 

“But I can do whatever I want now, why would I want to wait?” He ignored any further pleas from Evine and addressed the man on the floor beneath him. “Lie on your back.”

Callum tried to respond calmly. “Well you see, I can’t do that because some twat decided to whip me-” He let out another sharp shout as the boot behind him connected with his back again. With a great deal of muttering he slowly eased onto his back. 

“Now,” Alvard began, walking a few steps away, “you still haven’t obeyed both rules from yesterday. Do you remember what they were?”

“Always eat your veggies and-”

“Incorrect. They were ‘Do not remove your collar.’ And ‘Address me as Master.” You have only followed one of them. This is your chance to change your mistake.”

“I haven’t made any.”

“Fine.” An iron rod appeared in the king’s hand, around three feet long and half an inch thick. Callum could see it had some sort of shape on the end out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t care to be beaten again, but he supposed things could be worse. 

“I’ve been thinking,” said Alvard, waving the rod dramatically, “that you should have some sort of identifying mark in case you try to run away. On the off chance you would be stupid enough to try that.” 

“Of course I wouldn’t do that.” Callum was half sarcastic, but there was something dangerously close to begging in his voice. 

“Of course.” The king’s face drew into a mocking pout. “But better be safe than sorry.” He grinned and brought the shape at the end of the rod to his empty hand. His hand glowed with heat, and Callum realised what he was about to do. 

“No wait!” Without looking down, Alvard placed a boot squarely on his diaphragm, the toe of his boot just barely touching the top of his sternum. Callum wriggle under the force, trying to get away. “Just wait a minute, we can talk about this.” Panic was quickly seeping into his words. 

The shape now glowing red-hot, the king bent down and ripped Callum’s already ruined shirt down the front, and then around the arms so it came off in tatters. The prince tried to lift his arms to protect his chest, but the manacles were stuck behind Alvard’s calf. “Now try not to squirm. It’ll hurt more if you do.” The king said as he slowly brought the heated shape toward Callum’s left pectoral, trying to line it up straight between his shoulder and nipple. The prisoner watched it approach with increasing fear. He felt bile rise in his throat. “Master, please.” He said quietly. A little debasement now to avoid permanent scars. He told himself. 

“Sorry, what was that?” The brand moved farther away from his skin.

“Master, please don’t do this.” He said it clearly now, trying to ignore Evine’s stare from the other cell. “Please, Master, I’ll follow the rules.”

“Very good!” Alvard and Callum both smiled, one in triumph the other in relief. The brand plunged into the prince’s skin, making him scream. He could feel his skin bubbling and popping in the red-hot agony on his chest. “But too little too late. You had your chance earlier. Remember next time that my mercy will only extend to a certain point.” Callum felt the metal pull some of his skin with it as it left his chest. “But I am proud of our progress today. If you thank me now, we can be done for the day. What do you say?”

Callum gritted his teeth in pain and anger. “Thank you, Master.”

“Well done, pet. See you tomorrow.” The boot left his chest as Alvard disappeared. 

Evine could see the brand as Callum sat up. It was a basic diamond shape with a line connecting the two obtuse points. Alvard’s family’s royal symbol; he knew it from his studies. He stared at it before looking at Callum’s face. “Are you okay?” 

“Leave me alone. And when we get out of here, don’t tell anyone what happened. I just said that to get him to stop. You would do the same.” Callum huffed as much of a scoff as he could muster in his current condition. “In fact, I recall you would say anything to me a few times.”

His smile fell after he turned away. Does that mean I was as cruel as Mas- King Alvard? He thought to himself. How could I have treated someone that way and thought it was normal? He started to realise that he had worse in store for him than Evine had ever endured by his hand. Maybe it’s what I deserve.

Taglist:  @whumpy-butterflies , @pigeonwhumps , @wolves-and-winters @heyyitsworld @mothmxwhump

#whump #whump ideas #whump blog #whump scenario #royal whump #royal whumpee #royal whumper #Callum #Evine #Alvard #branding #cw branding #pet whump

[will-o-the-wips]

Bells

Part 3 of 3

Content: arena fighting, minor character death, slavery, dehumanization, non-sexual nudity

Theme/Setting: Merfolk, pre-modern fantasy

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

He covered his mouth with a trembling hand to stifle his Voice, reign it back, but the damage had already been done. The pearlescent blood that seeped from his wounds hummed with magic, drifting purposefully in the water as it surrounded him and his little betta fish, on which he tightened his hold in hopes that the call did not take hold. The bigger betta fish was already twisting around to strike again, eager once more now that it had drawn blood. The strength that had gotten the koi into the water was waning.

He felt the change - the rousing - of the little creature in his arms, and dread filled him. The blue-finned betta squirmed out of his grasp, eyes both alight and hazy all at once. The koi pressed back against the glass, sinking in the water, and he watched in horror as his little betta attacked the larger one with a ferocity it hadn’t displayed before. Though it was not surprising to him that his blue-fin was victorious, it was still jarring to see the scar-riddled betta sink in the water, dead. He tried not to let the regret distract him, instead focusing on the moment where his victorious young song went limp, the magic burned out and fading, fleeting as it was in the moment of panic.

The koi rushed up from where he had sunk to grab the betta by the waist before he could collapse among the mangled bodies of his kin, dragging him up towards the surface. Guilt twisted his gut as he inspected the other’s face, brushing short strands of golden hair from his pretty face, but before the koi could consider a next step, he felt the water ripple wildly with the force of a net being thrown in. His tail curled as rope surrounded the pair and dug into his scales while a team of humans dragged them out of the bloody water. He knew it was fruitless to struggle - doing only served to anger the humans, really - so he did not, more intent on holding his little victor close.

Tossed to the ground from the net, he hovered protectively over the unconscious betta while his eyes scanned the crowd of humans being held back by the emperor’s guards, greedy eyes vying for a peek at the cause of such disturbance. The emperor, he noticed, was absent from the dais, and another feeling of dread coiled in his stomach. Suddenly, a fist grabbed his hair and yanked him away from the betta, causing him to cry out and reach for the offending hand. In his peripheral, he could see spears leveled at the wounded betta, ready to kill, and he reached out to his little song despite another fierce tug dragging him away.

“No, leave him! Don’t hurt him!” He suffered as they prodded and poked at the betta’s skin and tail, trying to get a reaction out of it. He knew they could not understand most of his words, but he was too frantic to translate the majority of them into the garish human tongue. Already he could feel his own scales begin to tingle uncomfortably, and he reached out for the betta again, heedless of the tug at his scalp. “Get him back in the water! He won’t survive as he is, please!” In that moment, cold steel pressed against his own neck, and he froze, hand still hovering out towards the betta that had so faithfully protected him. He choked on air, desperate tears making his vision blur.

“Stay your blade, soldier.” The emperor’s voice, though not loud, could not be ignored or argued with. “I’ll not have my property damaged.” Though it made the koi’s blood boil to be referred to as property by such a shallow being, there was no denying the deplorable relief he felt when he heard that voice and the blade moved away from his skin. The hand released his hair, and he instantly looked to the surrounded betta, seeing how its scales were already beginning to dull. Then, against every sane fiber in his being, he fell prostrate before the human, forehead nearly touching the dusty ground.

“Please-” The word left him in a breathless moan, one of the few that had become all too familiar to him. His nails dug into the dirt, and he swallowed what pride still remained within him. He could not let this betta die. Not here, not now. Not so young, not so tender and hopeful. The Voices were so rare in these times; to lose one- unthinkable. The harshly translated words rushed from him in his desperation to be heard, to see the other safe, to keep the little one from suffering more than he already had. “My Lord, please. Spare his life, I beg for you, please.”

The emperor, taken aback by the koi’s actions, gave pause to observe the creature with scales that shone like pearls, fallen before him like no other time before - subservient and pleading. Of its own volition. Though removed from its proper habitat, the creature was radiant in the burning sun, and the emperor was entranced by his form. Still, the human yet retained some manner of his senses, and he asked in a dazed tone: “Why?”

A shiver ran down the koi’s spine, knowing how humans became so enchanted with their kind - the Voiced ones especially - and worse still, there was only one answer he could truly give the emperor that might appease him. Nothing given, nothing gained. He shifted, nails digging further and teeth gritting hard to bite back a hiss as the itch in his scales grew to a grating burn. Much longer, and the betta might wake through sheer force of the pain as he too dried out, and the koi could very well lose him if he did not convince the human quickly enough. With a shaking breath, he lifted his head to look at the human with a pleading gaze. His hair dripped, a heavy curtain over his shoulders. When he spoke again, his words were careful.

“You once asked of me what it would take to accept my fate.” Another breath, practically a sob, and then the words that would finally damn him. “This, my Lord,” he said in a despairing whisper. “Spare this one of my kin and let me care for him within your garden. Let me have this one to cherish, and I-” His voice cracked, and his head dropped between hunched shoulders.. He drew heavy breaths of the very air that caused him pain, his body wracked with shudders. The burning prickled along his spine and dug under his scales, picking him apart fiber by fiber and searing through him like a hot blade. Yet through it, he still gathered the mind to offer a final, strained plea: “My Lord, please. Do not let him die.”

The emperor eyed the creature before him, seeming impassive to its appeal and its pain until he finally looked to the armed guards awaiting his orders, still surrounding the strange betta fish that had drawn such bizarre reactions from his creature. With a jerk of his head, the order was given...and the spears were retracted. In short order, one of the small tanks used for transferring individual fish was pulled around, and the betta was lifted into the water and sealed inside. Seeing this all from the corner of his eye, the koi let out a gasp of relief.

Another jolt of pain lanced through him all of a sudden, and he choked back a cry. His arms shook, struggling to keep him up, and soon they buckled, leaving him to writhe in agony as the sensation clawed through him, worse than any claws or fangs or whips that could possibly tear into his tender flesh. The place, the people around him faded behind a haze, his world transforming into nothing but a suffocating grip on his being. And then, just as quickly, the pain came to a halt as he was suddenly embraced by the cool sensation of water enveloping him again, his salvation, and he gasped, mind clearing.

He felt the vibrations of the locks clicking into place through the glass and water as he recovered, but the relief of fresh water on his scales lulled him to a sleepy contentment. As he blinked his eyes open, he could see the betta by his side, and he pressed a hand to the glass. He looked up as the opulent form of the emperor stepped between their glass cages, and the human’s hand rested atop the koi’s case as he bent down to speak in a low tone:

“None but I have the right to witness your suffering.” The koi averted his eyes, knowing full well that the emperor would expect swift repayment and that he had no choice but to submit. Nothing given, nothing gained.

first | prev

#whump writing #howl hurts someone #mer whump #mer whumpee #royal whumper #whump story #dehumanization

[whumpcloud]

The God of Isonmore

content: god whumpee, genderless whumpee, defiant whumpee, winged whumpee, stress positions, whumpee unable to disobey (through magical means but they're mad about it), child caretaker, royal whumper

"That's a god?"

Alios does not speak. If they do, their ears will ring with the force of the blow they will receive. That's the fun of it. Lyell could easily command them unable to speak, and yet doesn't, for an excuse to hurt them if they disobey.

Still, all pain is the same to them. It's a sensation they haven't grown accustomed to since losing their Source. They didn't know that it would cause them to learn what pain was. How could they? A god has not lost their Source for eons.

"The god of Isonmore," Lyell says, that smug, stupid smile on his face. So proud of himself for ensnaring a god. "They make a wonderful trophy, do they not?"

A trophy of war. Is this what they are reduced to?

The little girl looks up at them. "...but isn't it wrong to keep them?"

Yes, they want to say. Yes, little girl, this is wrong. Please don't believe the words of a man who would strip away the will of a god.

"Of course not, Cecile!" Lyell smiles at her, and lifts her up into his arms. "Not when I'll rule over Isonmore soon."

Their arms and wings are tired of holding this position.

"Why don't they just leave?" Cecile asks, childlike innocence in her expression.

"They can't," Lyell says, and pulls the jewel hanging around his neck out from under his shirt. "Because I have this."

It sparkles in the light, shifting colours and shapes contained within the infinite transparency. Their Source. A symbol of the power the gods wield, power that should never be in mortal hands. Power that will corrupt, though, Alios thinks bitterly, it's not as if Lyell needs help in that regard.

They want to take it back. They will themself to reach for it, but their will is not their own, anymore. What is a king to a god? And what is a god to a king with more power in his hands than he can fathom?

Cecile brushes her fingers over it. "What does it do?"

"It means they have to do what I tell them to," Lyell says, then looks towards Alios. "Isn't that right?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," they say, as willed, and then nothing is binding them. "Do you not get tired of puppetry? In front of your daughter, no less."

They are suddenly willed to drop from the position they have been forced into for the past few hours. They gasp in relief, and at the new pain this has caused them. Every muscle seizes. This is why they never take mortal form. Why they never should have done so in the first place.

"Cecile," Lyell says softly, "go do something else for a little while. I'll come find you."

Cecile huffs, but she leaves. Lyell turns to Alios, still shaking on the floor, and grabs them by the chin. He doesn't bother commanding them to stay still. He knows they couldn't move even if they wanted to.

"Don't speak to me that way," Lyell says, nails digging into Alios' jaw. "And do not speak about or to my daughter."

"You could have stopped me," Alios spits.

Their teeth cut a bloody line in their lip when Lyell slaps them.

Alios wipes the blood from their face, eyes closed, trying to avoid looking at such a clear sign of their current predicament. Blood. They hadn't ever bled before their capture.

"I can easily be an outlet for your sadism without the games," they say quietly.

"Oh, but the games are what makes it interesting." Lyell is letting their Source hang in front of them, dangling it so tantalisingly close. "I want you to choose to be obedient."

This is beneath them. Mortal games, the way they parade prisoners as trophies, their wars and their power trips and their unadulterated violence. They abandoned this world for a reason, and now they can't escape it.

"I will never willingly be obedient to a king," Alios says, forcing their voice to stay steady.

Lyell laughs. "You will. There's plenty of time for that, yet."

"My siblings will come for me." Alios doesn't truly believe that, but they want to. They need to. "You're only cursing yourself."

"You must know your reputation," Lyell smiles. "You've been missing for the last few thousand years. Isonmore hasn't believed in you for the last two hundred. I would be surprised if even your siblings still did."

Alios wants to scream. They only wanted to step in to protect their people in battle. An idiotic, emotional part of them cared for once, and this is what they've been given in return. They should've stayed isolated, emotionless, above everyone and everything. That is their place as a god, though they know and ignore that their siblings would disagree.

But they are on their knees in front of a king they are unable to disobey, and the anger they are unused to feeling has nowhere to go.

"Did that finally stun you to silence?" Lyell straightens up, and tucks their Source back into his shirt. "How peaceful."

"I am a god," Alios hisses. "Do not forget that."

"Don't think I have!" Lyell grins and turns to leave. "Stay as you are."

Alios cannot even clench their fists or wrap their wings around themself to block out the world. They are trapped on their knees, gaze tilted to the floor, and they are seething.

They can only hear, not see, the tiptoe of a child out from behind a pillar when Lyell exits the room. Cecile silently approaches Alios. She must have been hiding here the entire time.

She seems nervous, fidgeting with her fingers when she comes into view. Then she suddenly reaches out and touches Alios' wing.

Alios is incapable of recoiling, and snaps instead. "Don't touch me!"

Cecile jumps back. "I-I'm sorry!"

Alios exhales, and does not look at her.

Biting her lip, Cecile steps in front of Alios, and kneels down to look at their face. "Are you hurt?"

"Yes, I am." Alios can't reign in their harsh tone. "Well done for noticing. You aren't a total imbecile."

Cecile frowns, and folds her arms. "You're not very nice."

"You're expecting me to be nice, Princess?" Alios snarls. "Would you be nice, in my position?"

She flinches. "My tutors say you should always be nice, even if you're mad…"

Cecile is only a child. She hasn't learned the apathy and hate of humanity yet. She will, but Alios cannot blame her for what she does not know. And they breathe in, and breathe out.

"They are right," Alios says, softer this time. "I… apologise."

"Thank you for apologising," Cecile says, and it's obviously a learned phrase, but it's sincere. "I'll… be back."

She runs off, and Alios mumbles a prayer. They don't think their sister will hear them. They don't think she would listen if she did. But they are in her kingdom, among her people, and the part of them that they've tried so hard to lock away knows any hope is better than no hope at all.

Cecile returns, a little bowl of water and a cloth in her hands. She dips the cloth into the water, and very gently dabs at Alios' bleeding lip, trying to wipe the blood away. Alios flinches, but lets her, with what little choice they have.

"There," she smiles, drying where she's washed. "I hope you feel a little better."

Alios doesn't say a word.

"You know," Cecile pouts, "you're supposed to say thank you when people help you."

"...thank you," Alios mumbles.

#polly's prose #alios #king lyell #princess cecile #whump #whump writing #immortal whumpee #royal whumper #no idea where i'm taking this. might as well post it though #alios is not a good person and i love them for that <3

[shywhumpauthor]

A thief, brought to their knees before a royal, expecting a gruesome death-

-Little did they know, death at the hands of the tyrant was a mercy granted to very few.

The fate in store for them is oh so much worse.

#whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #its me coal #coal wrote something #whumpee #whumper #whump prompt #whump prompts #writing prompt #whump drabble #writing prompts #kidnapping #royal whumper #royal whump #death mention #implied torture #writing inspo #writing inspiration #whump inspo #whump inspiration #torture #captured whumpee #captivity whump #intimate whumper

[whatgoeswhumpinthenight]

Whump Spitball: Brilliant Damage & Shining Pain

Why is it in every fantasy whump where somebody is in a place of power it's some high rank noble who just abducts them?

You are a noble of status and wealth, just frame Whumpee and push for banishment from the kingdom and snatch them up after, that way nobody is looking for Whumpee and if they are it's in a whole other kingdom/country, PLUS if Whumpee escapes it will seem as if they have returned after banishment so they will need to be punished worse.

Just adding the one step makes for a hopeless situation where Whumpee is trapped.

#whump spitball #whump prompt #whump writing #whump writers #whump drabble #whump #whumpee #whumper #royal whumper #noble whumper #fantasy whump #whumpblr

[whumpwillow]

For Royal whump!

Last in line to the throne gets tired of being spit on and treated like garbage. So when the exhausted eldest sibling suddenly falls ill, the youngest takes the time to be the "loving caretaker".

Eldest sibling gets more and more ill, delirious with fever and poisoning, pleads with the youngest to explain what's going on.

The youngest just smiles and says: I'm just making sure I get my fair share 😈

Oh i love this!! Like the last in line is actually malevolent and awful, but because they were spit on and treated like garbage for their whole life and have decided to secretly fight back by poisoning the eldest and pretending to be their caretaker. oooo love it. love when characters go through horrible things and just decide to go a little feral

#whump #whump prompt #willow answers #answered asks #whump prompts #whumpee #whump tropes #royal whumpee #royal whumper #royal whump #royalty whump

[whump-softie]

Set the stage:

A prestigious pet-training academy has offered their finest product yet: a perfectly bred slave, hair and eye color and everything in between suited to their buyer’s preferences,

A perfect slave, a pretty pet, presented before the King. The ultimate buyer, a lifelong bloodline of loyal customers. And the Academy is proud to offer their services.

“Kneel before the King.”

They kneel, a practiced and perfected ritual. They were raised to serve the King, barring no mistakes. They were ready.

“Will you follow my every command?”

“Yes, my King.”

“Will you kill for me?”

“Yes, my King.”

“Would you die for me?”

“Yes, my King.”

The room’s atmosphere darkens as the King himself stands from his throne and approaches his property.

Their gaze don’t move from the floor, trained better than to dare look upon the King’s features without permission.

“Look at me.”

They turn their chin upwards, and the King stares down at them, eyes void of emotion.

“I am not your King. I am your Master.”

-

#whump #whumpee #whumper #whump drabble #whump idea #whump prompt #royal whumper #slave whumpee