I am your friendly neighborhood 4th dimensional omniscient being here to provide you all the angst and whump you could need!
I'm new to the whump community, especially writing for it, but I can't wait to grace your senses with some of my drabbles and stories! I love pet whump, nsfwhump, lab whump, torture, and defiant whumpees. My little blorbos deserve to bleed. I was introduced to the community via my mutual Abraham, who writes amazing things (that sadly have been taken off the air).
My requests are open!!!! However, you are more than welcome to send me asks of other variety as long as they are civil. Let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list!
(Below is the masterlist and request rules.)
Happy reading!
Writing tag: #4th dimensional writings
Comment/original tag: #4th dimensional ramblings
Request/ask tag: #4th dimensional requests
MASTERLIST:
Flying Too Close to the Sun
Vanessa, a criminology major, is kidnapped while researching the elusive Campus Collector. Now trapped in his basement, she learns the truth about what he's been doing to his victims, and worse, what else he's been hiding.
Of Ruby Red
Wraven, a young vampireslayer destined for greatness, and Luther, a vampire with a past better left hidden, must join forces to hunt down a rogue vamp slaughtering people in Queens. However, as time presses on, they learn that maybe they aren't so different after all, and that history isn't always what's written.
The Quick Files
After decades of hiding behind a veil of magic and money, Madam Quick sends out a broadcast inviting those into the dark and eerie to submit their questions about the mind and mythical. With his pet, Atlas, they bring expertise in magic and psychology.
Species Whump Weekly
Check out the prompts at @species-whump-weekly!
Requests
Send in a request! Rules below.
Drabbles
Any writing not associated with a series or request.
REQUEST RULES:
1. I'm pretty much down for most whump however I will not do anything with drugs or substances, self-harm, or suicide related.
2. Your request can be as long or as short as you want, but if you want me to do a specific thing or avoid a specific thing, please let me know and I'll try to accommodate.
3. I have the right to reject your idea if I'm not feeling it for whatever reason. However, there's also a chance I'm busy and haven't gotten to your ask!
4. I regularly update this, so check back if my rules have changed.
Branding whumpee isn't enough. Whumper needs to leave their sigil on whumpee's very bones, even if that means ignoring whumpee's screams while they pin the flesh open for enough space to carve their design into the bone beneath.
Captive manhandled into position for noncon. Forcing pants down/shirt up violently
Whumpee going silent when they see what whumper is going to do to them/the whip/cane/branding iron/sex toys
Manhandling in general. Slammed into objects, twisted around, sat on, pinned to the floor by an elbow
Thrown into the wall and falling limp to the floor, trying to get up and failing, slumping over their trembling arms, leg half up under them
Whumper slowly walking toward weakened whumpee with a smile on their face
Whumper looking focused and slightly amused as they physically manipulate whumpee. Soft grunts of effort as they quickly pin whumpee down
Whumpee not bound in any way, writhing and struggling as multiple whumpers restrain and beat them
Losing a fight. Badly. And whumper doesn't stop there. They keep kicking, punching, dragging whumpee forward by the hair only to stomp them down again
A strong/powerful/living weapon whumpee that's been a pain in the ass for an evil leader, brought before said leader struggling and sweaty and thrown onto their chest and held there under the boots of their captors. Especially if they're defiant. Shouting threats, cut off by a harsh kick to the ribs.
Before him, it was a while since anyone was in one of those cells.
Level one is for the temporary prisoners, the ones who will get out with a warning, a minor punishment. The guards will talk to you, perhaps not even unkindly, and Inquisitor Settin will visit, all patient and understanding as he asks for your cooperation.
Level two is for the dangerous ones, the serious offenders, the incorrigible. You'll have the guards watch you with suspicion, but they aren't the true danger- level two belongs to the Exalted Master and her assistants. Oh, there are limits to what they can do- even prisoners are protected by the convention, after all. But still, they are torturers by trade. If you're on level two, people say, you may well suffer, and it will be a long time until you see the light of day again.
But it can always get worse. If you're on level three, you probably never will. So behave, cooperate. You don't want to end up down there, where the condemned go. The only upside would be how short your stay is, before your execution.
But there is a prisoner on level three, and he has been there over a month, at least. He has not seen the sun, has not been allowed visitors. Inquisitors and guards and even the torturers have little interest in spending more time than they must down there- with one exception.
There is a prisoner on level three, and since he's been down there, the Exalted Master has been, too. Every day, for hours at a time. The prisoner on level three is a special case, apparently. Exempt from the convention by order of His Imperial Majesty. And the Exalted Master is the cruellest of them all.
One shudders to imagine what must be happening, down there.
Thinking about body worship and gore and vivisection. Body worship below the skin. Admiring the organs and structures that got this person through so much. Look how the body knitted itself back together, at the scar tissue, at the knicks on the bones, at the blood vessels and organs that all work together to keep the heart pumping and lungs expanding and life flowing and fighting. Touch the things no one else has touched in awe, a holy exploration. Worship at the altar, partake in communion, praise your god in mortal flesh. He screams and whimpers and begs, twists and writhes and trembles. He isn't used to being worshiped like this. But you see him. You see all of him and he is a beautiful testament, a flayed saint, and your worship is far from over.
I think it's really interesting when Whumpee has a title to use for Whumper, where they must call Whumper this instead of their name (things like 'Sir,' 'Mistress,' and 'Master'). What are your favs and could I have some prompts with the different dynamics the different titles bring?
Master. A mixture of devotion and protection overlaying an iceberg of abuse, punishments, degradation, ownership. Master would never let their possession be harmed. The whipping post doesn't count---that's punishment, punishment is different. It's a good thing. It makes whumpee better for Master.
My lord/lady. Worthy of no more than being ground under their lordship's feet, yet graciously allowed to serve. Every slap must be taken without a sound; their eyes must meet the lord's only when he tilts their chin up by the tip of the sword. "Hm... That's what I like to see."
Sir. Formal and reserved. Professionalism covering for silent anxiety; panic when whumper closes the distance and puts a hand on whumpee's body. "Sir, I---whumper---" Whumper squeezes, digging their nails in until it's painful enough that whumpee tries to step away, only to be pushed further into the doorframe by the crushing hand. "Did I tell you you could address me by my name?"
say it with me. you do not have to be working through something to like whump. you do not need to have trauma to enjoy hurting/seeing characters get hurt. your ocs do not have to be self-inserts or reveal deep and buried parts of your psyche
Whumper loved this new way to torture Whumpee. They discovered it by accident, and ever since then it's become Whumper’s new addiction.
They would edge Whumpee for a few hours until they were so unbearably sensitive. Then, they would make them come. And come, and come, and come until they were nothing but a whining mess of sounds. They wouldn't give Whumpee a small break in between orgasms, either. It was constant, unbearable stimulation.
Whumpee couldn't even beg or speak. Their voice was nothing but whimpers, moans, and screams that they couldn't help but make in between their struggling, heavy breaths. Their limbs pulled and tugged against their restraints in a hopeless attempt to escape, body shining in sweat from all the adrenaline and straining. Tears streamed down their cheeks, eyes dizzy and blurred as they struggled to stay conscious.
They really shouldn't try to fight it, though. Passing out was the only way it was going to stop.
Breaking whumpees like glowsticks, let them shine @4th-dimensional-writer - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
