sci-fiolence

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*Sex toys, lingerie, basically anything that you use for sex.

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Whump Fight is basically Art Fight... but for whump! And it not only includes art but also writing and (possibly) GIFs and possibly more!

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“I’ll never talk” ok that’s cool. didn’t really expect you to. I’m not gonna torture you for information—I have an elaborate espionage network for that. everyone knows torture is an unreliable means of extracting information and anything obtained from it is not to be trusted. I’m not an idiot. I’ve read all the torture science. if there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s the foolish notion that torture serves a practical purpose. no, my torture dungeon exists for good, clean fun. it’s all about the love of the game. strap ’em to the rack, boys!

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Welcome to Kinktober 2025!

As there wasn’t an official Kinktober prompt list last year, we’ve put together an unofficial one for 2025, along with an AO3 collection. The graphics were all made by @latte-cucumber, and she's also made a banner that you’re welcome to use for your Tumblr Kinktober posts:

More information

Kinktober is an October prompt challenge that’s been running in one form or another since 2016. There are three prompts for each day in October, and the challenge is to use one (or more!) of the prompts to create something for that day. If you don’t want to use any of the three daily prompts, you can swap them out for the bonus prompts at the bottom of the prompt list.

Our askbox is open for questions about how the challenge works or what the prompts mean.

Prompts

Masturbation – Orgasm Control – Incest

Coming Untouched – Ageplay – Kidnapping

Threesome – Nipple Clamps – Alien Abduction

Voyeurism – Sounding – Hypnosis

Finger Sucking – Wax Play – Dacryphilia

Outdoor Sex – Humiliation – Intoxication

Blindfolds – Chastity – Bloodplay

Webcam – Figging – Cages

Exhibitionism – Shibari – Tentacles

Oral Sex – Punishment – Consensual Non-Consent

Come Licking – Handcuffs – Somnophilia

Sex Work – Kneeling – Sissification

Dildos – Dom Bottom/Sub Top – Medical Play

Omegaverse – Possessive Sex – Choking/Gagging

Semi-Public – Object Insertion – Sex Pollen

Remote Control – High Protocol – Fire Play

Messy Sex – Service Kink – Anal Hooks

Size Queen – Dom/Sub – Genital Torture

Creampie – Sensory Deprivation – Electricity

Mirror Sex – Golden Shower – Dubcon

Rimming – Forced Orgasm – Monsterfucking

Quiet Sex – Crawling – Gunplay

Biting – Praise Kink – Enemas

Anal Sex – Gags – Noncon

Double Penetration – Impact Play – Pillory/Stocks

Lingerie – Cuckolding – Sex Robot

Hair Pulling – Animal Play – Gangbang

Multiple Orgasms – S&M – Needle Play

Body Worship – Omorashi – Full-Body Bondage

Breeding – Fucking Machine – Degradation

Hot Tub Sex – Foot Fetish – Writer’s Choice

Bonus prompts:

Aftercare

Fisting

Wall Sex

Sugar Baby

Uniform Kink

Free Use

Temporary/Permanent Marks

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Chop chop chop !!!

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The whumpee finds relief from a snow storm. A small shelter in the middle of no where. It’s got basic necessities: power, water, snacks, and thankfully, firewood.

They start themselves a fire in the iron stove, making dinner and preparing to sleep off their unintentionally long hike. The fire becoming a warm lullaby that they cannot resist.

In the night, they jolt awake. Above them, a figure stands, frozen and staring.

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A character who can't go on anymore. They ran as far as they could, then walked, and when they collapsed, they dragged themselves further.

But they're done now. They have nothing left. They're on the ground, breathing harshly, maybe even sobbing in their desperation. They gave all they had.

Was it enough?

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WWEvent Affirmations

Remember:

Written prompt fills don't need to be extravagant or thousands of words, they can be drabbles;

Same for art fills, they can be sketches or thumbnails or whatever is fun;

You don't need to write OC content, fandom is just as welcome;

You don't need to take a prompt at face value, shake it up as much as you want;

You can write for as many different fandoms or universes as you want, don't limit yourself;

And don't be afraid to reach out, I made two of my closest friends through this event last year!

This event is for fun. Treat it in a way that's fun. Don't shackle yourself by expecting perfection with every prompt if that's not going to help. Build a community and go wild with it!

I love you all, and I can't wait to see what you make in July!

- Seth

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Shout out to characters who want to be used. Shout out to characters who are so desperate to be worth something that they'll endure anything. Shout out to characters who build their entire self worth around being useful, being a tool. Shout out to characters who don't care how they are treated, as long as someone pays them any attention at all

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What if i told you this is the funniest thing i have ever seen

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Nonhuman pet whumpees <3

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there used to be this giant book that was shipped to everybodies home whiched doxxed everybody in the city

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You know how people put messages in glass bottles and then throw them into the sea? That but with a tiny immortal whumpee.

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Just thinking about two whumpees holding each other’s hands for comfort as they hear the sound of Whumper’s steps growing closer.

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scientist whumper extracting venom from vampire whumpee like a snake

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Still Learning

CWs: captivity whump, sadistic creepy/intimate whumper, pinned, choking, begging, new whumpee, crying, forced intimacy (noncon touch), sir/master made this post and i have not been able to stop thinking about it so im torturing pretty boys again <3

When he set the thin blanket over the boy, he only wished to listen to those pitiful sniffles he enjoys so much as his plaything cried himself to sleep on the floor.

He had pulled the soft cover up to his chin, his most recent acquisition frozen like a frightened little marble statue under his attention. Merciful enough to be some sort of a barrier between the chilly air and bare skin, though not quite enough to keep him warm without curling up tight and bundling himself up into the smallest cocoon, his treasure didn't hesitate long before doing just that, if only to hide his frail body from peering eyes.

He couldn't resist petting through those soft curls, only giving an even softer order to sleep before finally leaving the boy to his misery.

In the morning, the blanket would all but swallow him, only a bird's nest peeking out from under it. He pondered on waking him, stalked over and looked over the sad little pile. When the boy didn't stir at his presence however, he decided to let him rest a little longer. A small mercy that he could pull a ‘thank you’ out of him for later.

But now, now it's far past eleven, — closer to noon, now that he checks, — and his captive has yet to wake. What a sneaky little devil.

Walking over once again, he makes no effort to dampen his footfalls, standing above his captive for only a moment to observe him. No reaction just yet. He crouches over him now, leering. His plaything manages to hold out all the way up until his touch makes his tense body snap like a rubber band, surely expecting something more punishing than a caress. Maybe a stomp.

Despite this, he just pulls himself tighter to hide away, caught, but feeling safer still inside his blanket burrito. A muffled, miserable whine floats out from somewhere under the cover.

Despite his shortsighted, yet very alluring plan of burying his head in the sand like an ostrich and refusing to come out, he cannot remain still for long. The shadow over him grows, and a weight settles around his waist. There's more weights, onto his head, onto his shoulder, moving him, prodding him — and soon he recognises that coming out on his own isn't really an option now that his arms have been pinned to his sides by not only the blanket, but heavy limbs holding him down and embracing him from all sides.

Panic starts setting in, air running thinner, heart beating against his chest as he squirms, half blind and helpless inside his cocoon. Finally, the top of his head emerges, and wide eyes appear to ascertain the situation. They find their target, his captor, looking quite comfortable holding him down. He doesn't stop struggling though; he pointedly jerks this way and that to try to dislodge any of his limbs.

The shadow smiling at him from above leans over him, blocking out the ceiling light, and reaches towards his captive’s head. The boy falls silent and still again, squeezing his eyes shut. Another hit expected, another caress reaches him like a bullet.

The monster chuckles, petting him fondly. — “Pretending to sleep all day won't make the world disappear, my dear,” — he coos. His words drip honey onto his dear’s forehead.

Hesitant, trapped, uncertain, those eyes open again. He averts them, finding the carpet much easier to look at.

“Please don't hurt me,” — comes his raspy, weak-from-sleep plea, the first thing he says today. He only grins. His boy shudders under him in response.

“What do we say when we misbehave?”

His darling swallows down whatever comes to him first. Perhaps another plea, or something too unbecoming, too daring to say to the one who has made himself his new god. He hesitates again, clear distaste in his mouth, but so much else swirling inside his head. — “...I'm sorry.”

Absentminded, he peels away some of the cover from his captive's face. He can now see him biting at his lip, worrying a nervous, adorable frown. — “What are you sorry for?”

That seems to stump the young man. He looks to him now, unsure, his words quiet. — “For — you just said…”

This time he does not expect the stinging at his cheek. The hit twists his head to the side. He cries out more from the surprise than pain.

“What are you sorry for?”

“Ah-I don't — no, please!” — He tries to hide behind shoulders that can't lift high enough to shield from that hand eager to strike him again. Adrenaline and the need for that relative safety finally sends the cogs turning.

The cruelly apathetic repetition — it lights up in him like a freshly carved laceration. This is a — a rule, or a game, his captor wants something, he sounds like he did that other time, when he broke a finger, and then tore a nail, every time, every time he — but what is he doing wrong?

There is the click of something in his thoughts falling into place.  — “F-F-For sleeping in!”

There is the mercy of the monster's hand not falling, but it doesn't retreat either. His expression is approving — he can see muted terror and some rage in the boy's eyes.

“What you did was not sleeping in though, was it?” — he suggests, confirming that his toy is on the right track, if nothing else. Then, he repeats; — “what are you sorry for?”

He just has to say it out loud, that's all it is. He wants to hear him. — “For, for pretending to sleep.”

But the monster still doesn't seem satisfied. The pride in his eyes is starting to fade, and with it, his patience. — “And why are you sorry about that?”

Wrong, but why? He wants to help him figure it out himself, his palm turning into a fist threateningly. His captive can't decide if he should try to shield himself or stay put. — “Because, um… I, I lied?”

He hums in thought. — “You did.” — A good answer, very good of him to remember his rules. Not enough. — “You did something else as well.”

The stopwatch starts again, some unknown time limit set. Down and down; he can see the seconds tick away with every twitch on the young man's skin.

The captive barely has time to flinch before his captor’s punishing fist sinks into his cheek. Took too long, he knows, he didn't mean to, but now the fist is pulling back, and his face aches terribly, and his throat is closing up and he doesn't know how to make this end and —

Oh dear. The poor thing looks at him, eyes swimming. He clicks his tongue pityingly. Learning still, this one.

His darling plaything has twisted his head to the side, panting, terrified. He can see there are no more thoughts to find their way past his terror. He must teach him better, but… perhaps a softer touch, to encourage.

That deceptive caress returns, bringing with it another twist of stinging comfort. It pets once, twice, a slow, gentle rhythm. It's enough to help shudder out those delicious tears.

Small sniffles, swallowed sobs. Oh, how sweet he is when his weeping chokes him. His eyes crinkle more with every hitch of his captive's chest. He leans a little lower, his voice a soft murmur. — “You have wasted…”

It takes him a moment, squirming in his bondage, expecting more pain. His voice comes fragile and shaky.

“I, I-I’ve w-, wasted your ti-ime?”

It shakes him when he chuckles at the small reply. So scared to say it. He should be; he won't stay so patient forever. It won't stay so fun to slowly help him draw the right conclusion every time he messes up.

“So what are you sorry for?”

The fingers trailing his face don't seem to be helping him much at the monumental task of staying focused. — “Fo-or, for wasting your time.”

He turns the boy's head back towards him, squeezing tighter until he remembers to look him in the eyes. — “Try again.” — He should be more than crystal clear on how to apologize by now.

“I-I'm sorry for wasting your time,” — he repeats, now watching for danger through a sea of tears. Full sentence, look him in the eyes, mean it… but it's still not good enough.

His smile fades, a disapproving frown replacing it. Nothing could frighten his toy more than this, he reckons. Disappointing his owner. His afflictive hand slides from those tear stained cheeks, free to cause harm again. Mm, now he's really afraid.

“You forgot something,” — he warns, ever patient, ever helpful. Whether he wants to or not, his hand finds its way onto the blanket again, where it pools under the boy's chin.

He can feel the other’s legs flex and his knees reflexively try to pull up as he tugs the fabric lower, undressing the most vulnerable part of him — a throat so easy to seize, and mar, and feel. The tips of his fingers barely touch him as he treasures the bruises already present. There are marks of red circling it. His thumb fits so perfectly in the divot between his clavicles.

His darling keens in panic, his fight re-emerging. He must have seen that glint in his eye, that look that means he is no longer looking at him; — he only sees his body. — “Please, nh-no, don't — I, I-I, I'm — “

His trachea already feels tight enough from his crying, but now he feels the warm embrace of death as capable fingers settle around him unhurriedly, and he has to stop stumbling over his words before his throat is squeezed shut for him. Once it begins, he won't be able to apologise. He won't be able to correct himself, to beg, to think at all. He won't be able to do a single thing but hope that he will be allowed to breathe again. Eventually. Hopefully.

It really is a cruel thing, how alluring even the idea of this sounds.

Before he could go through with it, with a last sob, and just enough air left in his lungs, his plaything finally manages to cry out the correct answer. — “I’m s-, sorry for wasting your time, sir! Please don't, sir, I'm sorry, I said, said it, sir, I forgot, just — please — ”

Since his hand doesn't lift immediately, his treasure keeps begging until it does. He repeats the answer a couple of times, keeps adding words, making it sound more pleasant, more submissive. ‘I don't know what you want from me, just tell me, please, I'll say it, I'll say it, I want to be good, just please let me go.’ Another kind of thing he has to learn; how to beg. He appears to be advancing all on his own with that subject.

In the end, he allows himself to smile down on him once again, leaning down to press a kiss to his brow. The whole body flinches under him, and only untenses when his hand finally lets go of that pretty little neck.

“Mmm. There's a dear.”

And it's just delightful having a body so trapped and helpless, so ready to be taught terror and pain, shiver so eagerly beneath him.

<3

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Taglist (tagged in everything I write): @morning-star-whump @whumprince @a-living-canvas

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Well then I’ll go for an other gags panel, I love it and I practice different angles with pleasure =) Here is a cute OC He’s got no name for now... maybe later !

Any fave ? #gagged #drawing #bondage #oc