DISCLAIMERS:
🩸NSFW SIDEBLOG. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. 18+ ONLY.
🩸i am taken. while i am poly, the relationship is not open. not interested. if you flirt with me, dont expect anything, mkay?
🩸i am both t4t and sys4sys. singlets and cishets this hole is closed, sorry.
🩸any fetish content is just that- fetish content. i do not condone nor support any of the illegal or harmful things i am turned on by, and everything i do with my partners is safe, sane, and consensual :-)
🩸this blog will be shared between alters, and not all of us have the same kinks. as such, its hard to predict what will be on this blog sometimes. heres a list though if you'd like?
ABOUT ME:
🍷hello! i am mal. i use he/she/it pronouns and i'm 20. this is a sideblog for my more... adventurous needs.
🍷we are a system. posts individual for our alters will be tagged with their specific emojis or emoji combos, and not names.
🍷i am bisexual, bigender, polyamorous, and on the aroace spectrums. for the purposes of this blog, though, i am whatever makes me horniest.
🍷if you know who i am, no you don't! 💞
🍷while i am a switch verse, i prefer to sub and bottom, and that's usually the content i'll interact with. and i am an INCORRIGIBLE brat
🍷all kinks will be tagged as what they are, original posts will be tagged, reblogs will not be tagged. interact at own risk!
BLOG CONTENTS:
🦇HARD KINKS: breeding, cnc+rape, lactaction, pregnancy, bloodplay, knifeplay, size kink, monsterfucking (duh), knotting, BITING!!!, necks, petplay (we are collectively a bunny, but sometimes we are other things)
🦇SOFT KINKS: doll kink, hypno, brainwashing, under the influence, housewife, forcemasc, forcefem+detrans* (ONLY SOME OF IT! AND I WOULD NEVER ACTUALLY DETRANSITION!), scent, omegaverse, choking, breast growth+ass growth
they should make a sex toy that never dies that you can keep using forever and ever and ever and you dont need to clean it and it never breaks and it always is exactly at the setting you want it to be on
Having a scent thing is weird because on the one hand, yes, this is definitely a sex thing and you can make me hard as a brick by exploiting that. But like- on the other hand, having your scent really does invoke a feeling of calm, safety, warmth and comfort and I don’t know how to explain wanting to shove my nose into your armpit or against your balls purely as a form of self-soothing.
getting fucked by a thing with two dicks is awesome cause even with only one in you, when it starts to cum and you see the cock that isn't inside you start to shoot huge ropes of cum all over you and your thighs and everywhere, and you know the other cock buried in you is filling you up with just as much cum. idk it's pretty awesome
I would look good with a bloody nose. On my knees, shirtless, covered in bruises, and looking up at you with wet puppy eyes. My nose is broken and dripping blood, and I'm begging you, pleading with you as blood drips past my lips, to hurt me, please, hurt me more.
Can anyone believe my first post ever here is toxic Majorscythe? Fork found in kitchen.
Smut under the cut. Kinda long one didn't felt as confident about it to post it on ao3 so I'm posting it here bc I worked hard on it.
Yk who else was hard- *gets shot*
Enjoy!!
Tags: blowjob, sadist/masochistic tendencies, begging, prey/hunter, vampire/human, kind of like cnc (?) Degrading
The lake was black glass beneath the blood moon. It stretched wide and silent through the clearing, reflecting the enormous red orb hanging low in the sky. The moonlight painted the world in shades of rust and crimson. The trees stood like dark sentinels around the water’s edge, their branches thin and clawed, scratching faintly against the wind.
Scott stood near the shore. Still. Patient. To anyone else, the forest would have been quiet. But to him, it was deafening. He could hear everything. The creak of the trees. The ripple of water against the stones. The distant scurry of animals deeper in the woods. And most importantly...
The heartbeat in front of him.
Fast. Irregular. Human.
Pyro stood a few steps away, his boots half sunk in the damp earth near the lake. His lantern trembled slightly in his hand, the light flickering across his anxious face.
Scott tilted his head slightly. Listening.
Thump.
Thump-thump.
Thump.
It was racing. Fear had a sound. A rhythm. And Pyro’s was adorable. The scholar tried to keep his composure, but Scott could smell it too, the sharp, coppery scent of fear rising off him like steam. It made Scott smile. A slow, crooked thing.
Pyro noticed it. His brows knit together. “What do you want from me?” he asked. Scott didn’t answer immediately. Instead he stepped a little closer, the gravel crunching softly beneath his boots.
The scholar was fascinating to watch. So trusting. So earnest. So incredibly foolish. Scott’s smile deepened. “You know,” he said calmly, voice smooth as still water, “for a scholar… you’re rather lacking in survival instincts.”
Pyro frowned. “What?” Scott gestured vaguely to the forest around them.
“To begin with,” he said, amused, “following a stranger into the woods at this hour.” He glanced up at the sky. The blood moon loomed enormous above the trees. Everything beneath it glowed red. “And on a night like this.”
Pyro shifted his weight uneasily. The lantern light trembled again. “I didn’t follow you,” he muttered. “You asked me to come.”
Scott laughed quietly. That was true. And Pyro had come without hesitation. A stranger approaches him in a tavern. Mentions ancient texts. Mentions ruins near the lake. And the scholar follows him out into the forest like an eager little hound.
Scott studied him. Head tilted slightly. “You’re shaking,” he observed softly.
“I am not.” Scott inhaled slowly. Yes. Yes, he was.
The scent of fear was growing stronger. And beneath it... Warm blood. Sweet. Alive.
Six hundred years.
Six hundred years buried in the dark earth, trapped in a sleep that felt like drowning in silence. Six hundred years without this. Without the sound of a human heart beating right in front of him.
Scott licked his lips unconsciously.
Pyro noticed. His expression changed. “What… are you?” he asked quietly.
Scott’s smile widened. “That,” he said, “is an excellent question.”
Pyro took a step back. Scott stepped forward. The distance between them shrank again. Pyro’s heart stuttered.
Thump-thump-thump.
Scott could hear every beat. The pulse in his throat. The blood rushing beneath his skin. So loud. So fragile.
“Scott,” Pyro said carefully, “I think I should—” Scott’s hand lifted slightly. For the first time, Pyro saw them. The claws. They slid from Scott’s fingertips like drawn knives, black and curved.
Pyro froze. His breath caught. Scott’s smile slowly revealed something else. Fangs. Long. White. Wrong. For a moment the world went silent. Pyro stared. His mind trying to understand what his eyes were seeing.
“What the—”
Scott moved. He was faster than thought. One moment he stood in front of Pyro. The next he was on him. The lantern crashed to the ground as Scott slammed him back against the dirt.
Pyro screamed. Scott’s mouth found flesh instantly. He didn’t care where. Shoulder. Neck. Anywhere.
His fangs pierced skin with a wet, brutal sound. Hot blood flooded his mouth. Pyro’s scream ripped through the forest.
“GET OFF—!” He punched Scott hard across the jaw. Scott barely flinched. But the impact broke his bite long enough for Pyro to shove him away. Pyro scrambled to his feet, clutching his bleeding shoulder.
“What the fuck— what the FUCK—”
Scott watched him. Blood dripped from his lips. His pupils were blown wide with hunger. And something else. Something wild.
Pyro backed away. Then turned and ran. Scott didn’t chase immediately. He just stood there. Listening. The frantic pounding of Pyro’s footsteps crashing through the underbrush. The terrified rhythm of his heartbeat fading into the trees.
Scott wiped the blood from his mouth with his thumb. Then slowly licked it clean. Warm. Fresh. Alive.
His chest rose and fell with a breath that felt almost human. God. He had missed this. The hunt. The fear. The taste of blood in his mouth. For six hundred years he had slept in darkness and rot. Now the world was bright again. Sharp and electric
He laughed quietly to himself. Then he stepped into the forest. Not running. No. There was no need. Pyro could run as hard as he liked. Scott could hear him perfectly. Every crashing step. Every desperate breath.
Pyro was sprinting through the woods like a man possessed. Branches whipped across his face. Roots snagged his boots. His lungs burned but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.
He was going to die.
He was going to die.
“What the FUCK was that?!” His voice came out ragged and breathless as he crashed through the trees. His shoulder throbbed where Scott had bitten him.
Warm blood soaked his shirt. His mind spun wildly. Claws. Fangs. Speed. The blood moon. The stories. The warnings.
Avid’s voice echoed in his memory.
“You laugh now,” Avid had said once, annoyed, “but vampires are real.”
Pyro had rolled his eyes.
“Yes, of course. And next you’ll tell me they live in castles and drink wine from goblets.”
“I’m serious.”
Pyro stumbled over a root but caught himself. His heart hammered violently.
Oh god.
Oh god.
Avid had been right. All along. About everything. About vampires. About the strange man who had appeared in town. About Scott.
Pyro’s breath came out in panicked gasps. “What the fuck—” He nearly sobbed the words. “What the fuck what the fuck WHAT THE FUCK—”
The world dissolved into a blur of panic and pain. Pyro’s shoulder burned where the fangs had pierced, a deep, throbbing ache that pulsed in time with his runaway heart. He crashed through a thicket, thorns tearing at his clothes and skin, but he didn’t feel them. All he felt was the crushing, animal terror.
He’s behind me. He’s right behind—
A root snagged his boot. He flew forward, the air whooshing from his lungs as he slammed into the damp, leaf-littered earth. He tried to scramble up, his hands slipping on wet moss.
A shadow fell over him. Pyro froze, the cold seeping up from the ground into his bones. He slowly, slowly, looked up.
Scott stood there, silhouetted against the bloody moon. He wasn’t breathing hard. He looked… amused. A dark smile played on his lips, which were still stained a wet, glistening crimson.
“Tired already?” Scott’s voice was a soft, velvety rumble. It shouldn’t have been able to cut through the forest sounds, but it did, landing directly in Pyro’s ear like a physical touch.
Pyro tried to speak, to curse, to beg. A strangled whimper was all that escaped.
Scott knelt. Not hurriedly. He took his time, settling on his haunches in front of the prone scholar. He reached out, and Pyro flinched violently, squeezing his eyes shut. A clawed fingertip, cold as river stone, traced the line of his jaw.
“Open your eyes,” Scott murmured. “Look at what’s hunting you.” Pyro’s eyes snapped open, wide with terror. Scott’s face was inches from his own. The inhuman beauty of it was terrifying, the sharp cheekbones, the pale skin, the eyes that held the ancient darkness of the lake itself.
“Please,” Pyro choked out.
Scott’s smile widened. “Please? That’s a start. But it’s not specific.” The claw trailed down Pyro’s throat, stopping over the frantic pulse. “Please don’t kill me? Please let me go?” He leaned in, his breath a cold ghost against Pyro’s ear. “Or… please, don’t stop?”
A fresh wave of shameful heat flooded Pyro’s gut, warring with the fear. His body was betraying him, a traitorous, aching stiffness growing in his trousers despite the cold, despite the terror. Scott’s nostrils flared, and his smile turned into something knowing and vicious.
“Ah,” Scott breathed. “There it is. The little scholar likes to be chased. Likes to be prey.” His hand moved from Pyro’s throat to fist in the front of his tunic. With impossible strength, he hauled Pyro up to his knees. “On your knees. That’s where you belong when you’re begging.”
Pyro’s knees hit the soft earth, his body trembling uncontrollably. Scott stood before him, a tower of predatory grace. He undid the fastenings of his own trousers with a slow, deliberate click and a shush of fabric. He freed his cock.
It was… monstrous. Thick, veined, and already fully hard, jutting out from a thatch of dark cyan hair. It looked utterly inhuman, a weapon of flesh. Pyro’s mind screamed. He tried to turn his head, to squeeze his eyes shut again.
A hand, vice-like, gripped his hair and wrenched his head forward. “Look at it,” Scott commanded, his voice dropping to a guttural growl. “Look at the fucking thing that’s going to ruin your throat. You came all this way for knowledge, didn’t you? Well learn this. Learn what it means to be used.”
Pyro stared, his breath coming in ragged, wet gasps. The scent of musk and cold night air filled his senses. “No,” he whispered. “I can’t… it won’t fit…”
“It’ll fit,” Scott said, his tone conversational, even as he began to guide the broad, leaking head towards Pyro’s lips. “I’ll make it fit. You’re going to swallow every fucking inch, you desperate little thing. You’re going to choke on it, and you’re going to love the feeling of being this full.”
The blunt head pressed against Pyro’s tightly closed lips. He kept his mouth shut, a final, futile act of defiance. Scott chuckled, a low, dark sound. He increased the pressure, not forcing, just waiting. The pressure built, an insistent, threatening presence.
“Open,” Scott whispered. “Or I break your jaw.” A sob ripped from Pyro’s chest. His jaw went slack. The moment his lips parted, Scott shoved forward.
The thick crown breached him, stretching his lips obscenely wide, immediately hitting the back of his throat. Pyro gagged violently, his body convulsing, tears springing to his eyes. Scott didn’t pause. He pushed deeper, the massive shaft invading, filling, a brutal, unyielding intrusion. Pyro’s throat opened in a spasming, unwilling as the head forced its way into his esophagus.
“Fuck, that’s it,” Scott groaned, his grip tightening in Pyro’s hair. “Take it. Just a fucking hole. A warm, tight, begging hole.”
He began to move. Not a rhythm. A pistoning. Short, brutal jabs that buried his cock to the root with every thrust. Pyro’s world narrowed to the sensation of the slurp and gurgle of his own saliva, the wet smack of Scott’s hips against his face, the ragged, choked sounds he made with every inward drive.
Scott set a relentless, pounding pace. Pyro couldn’t breathe. Each thrust stole the air from his lungs, his vision spotting with dark stars. He clawed at Scott’s thighs, but his efforts were weak, pathetic. The overwhelming sensation of fullness, of being used, began to spark something else beneath the panic. A filthy, degrading heat coiled in his own groin. He was hard, painfully so, his own cock straining against his pants.
Scott saw everything. “You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?” he snarled, fucking Pyro’s face with renewed vigor. “You filthy cocksucker. You followed me out here because some deep, rotten part of you wanted this. Wanted to be a vampire’s little slut. Admit it.”
Pyro couldn’t speak. He could only gag and drool, tears and saliva slicking his chin. But his hips gave a tiny, involuntary jerk.
Scott laughed, a sound of pure, dark triumph. “You were born for this. To be on your knees. To serve.” He changed the angle, driving downward, and the thick head pressed against a new, impossible depth. Pyro’s body went rigid, a silent scream locked in his stuffed throat. “Gonna fuck my cum straight down into your stomach. Gonna fill you up until you taste nothing but me for a week. You want that? Beg for it.”
He pulled almost all the way out, letting Pyro gasp a single, shattered breath. The cold night air burned his raw throat.
“Please,” Pyro rasped, the word torn and wet.
“Please, what?” Scott demanded, the tip of his cock resting on Pyro’s swollen lower lip.
“Please… fuck my throat,” Pyro sobbed, the confession shattering him. “Please… fill me up. I’m just a hole. Use your hole.”
Scott’s eyes blazed with sadistic fire. “Good boy."
a sub that teases their shy dom who has had enough of the teasing and goes into hard dom headspace and the sub automatically senses the change and shuts up but it’s too late bc the dom grabs them by their face and asks “who the fuck do you think you are?” making the sub whimper
a boy is a doll with buttons you can press to hear pre-recorded voicelines such as “what are you doing?” “nonono stop” “that hurts” “i trusted you!” and “miserable uncontrollable sobbing” you can get your own boy for free with just a bit of patience, covert manipulation, and sadism
