This blog is proship and safe for all paraphilias and paraphilic disorders. You can find paraphile advocacy in #para ally.
My contact stances align with NO-ACT. Screenshot under the cut in case the post gets removed.
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Welcome to the world of MECHFIA, an animated series in the works. This is a post-apocalyptic world which explores trauma, love, and what it
Contains: N E C R O P H I L I A !!!! DO NOT EAT!!!!, bruises, dressing to please, master/slave, grooming, dubcon, intimate whumper, blood drinking, gore, ritual stabbing, character death
Night had fallen. Ian was getting changed after supper, but lingered in front of the mirror in his room. He was observing the bruising on his skin. Some older, some fresh…markings left by Lord Gethin’s feeding as well as his affection. Marking his throat, his arms, his thighs…all of Lord Gethin’s favourite spots were marked as his.
Ian saw them as rewards. To be wanted by the likes of Lord Gethin was a rewards of its own, but to have undeniable proof was something else. What more could he possibly give? Did he really deserve this much praise? He had to try his hardest not to upset him, so he could feel like he did deserve all the rewards.
Lord Gethin had something important planned, after all, something special for just him.
The honour was too great to even begin describing it. Besides, he still wasn’t sure what exactly he had planned, but supposedly it would be great! Though, he found it hard to imagine anything greater than the rewards he already had.
Still, he was determined to not disappoint Lord Gethin when he was being so generous. And with that determination he washed himself and got dressed in Lord Gethin’s favourite outfit: A thin, white shirt, leaving little to the imagination, and a soft pair of trousers that would be easy to slip off.
The rain that one of the servants predicted that morning battered down on the roof of the manor, occasionally drowned out by the by crashing thunder. Ian imagined the staff might struggle to sleep with the noise, but when he went to check on them, the majority at least pretended they were asleep when he looked in. Honestly, they could’ve fooled Ian, had a flash of lightning or a crack of thunder not made some of them flinch.
Ian considered taking some time to assure them they would be fine, but he was already running late by just looking in. So he stuck to just looking, finishing his round before heading down to Lord Gethin’s chambers.
“You’re late, Ian.”
Ian gulped as he closed the door behind him, stepping further into the room and waiting for the loud rumble of the thunder to die away before speaking up.
“I am begging your pardon, my lord.” he said, “I wanted to look in on the others first, in case the storm has them restless.”
“Once you’ve seen a hundred thunderstorms you’ve seen them all.” Lord Gethin said, glancing over at the windows as the rain tapped against the glass, “Though, I doubt their feeble minds could comprehend it…”
“You have seen a hundred storms, my lord?” Ian asked.
“Oh it has definitely been more than that.” Lord Gethin said, “But yes…and in time, you will too.”
Ian stayed quiet. Asking what he meant would only upset him, so he hoped his silence would be interpreted as understanding.
“Come here. Warm yourself by the fire.” Lord Gethin said.
“Thank you, my lord.” Ian said, while stepping closer.
He kept his eyes down as he stood next to him, holding out his hands a bit to warm them, until Lord Gethin put his hand under his chin and made him look up at him.
“I will only ask you this once, though I already know the answer.” he said, “Will you serve me for all eternity, Ian?”
“O-of course, my lord!” Ian quickly said, “It is the purpose the gods gave me, serving you is all I live for, my lord.”
“Perfect…” Lord Gethin said.
And he rewarded him with a kiss.
Even in front of the fire his lips were cold, but Ian had gotten used to the sensation. He didn’t know any better. Lord Gethin pulled him closer, wasting no time as he yanked Ian’s shirt aside so roughly it tore. Ian didn’t mind, he could mend it the next day. Besides, even if he did care, he was soon distracted by Lord Gethin kissing his throat…then the side of his neck…followed by a bite.
Ian gasped as he could feel him sink his teeth in and he felt like he’d stepped into a warm bath. All the nerves and tension in him dissipated and he melted in Lord Gethin’s arms as he pulled his teeth out and began sucking on the same area, leaving another mark.
Ian felt light-headed. His knees buckled, but Lord Gethin held him up without any effort, holding him close as he continued to suck on the side of his neck, before finally stopping when the boy’s eyes began to roll back.
“No, no, not yet.” he said, putting one arm underneath Ian’s knees and lifting him off the floor.
Blood rushed back to his head and Ian just about registered Lord Gethin carrying him towards his bed, laying him down on the soft blankets and pillows. Ian felt warm, uncomfortably so. He began to undress. Lord Gethin did the same, dropping his robes on the floor before sitting over Ian, brushing his hand over the side of his neck and licking the blood off of his fingers.
“I shall miss this flavour.” he said, “I will be taking a little more than usual to savour it…”
“Y-yes, my lord.” Ian said breathlessly, dutifully holding out his arm.
Lord Gethin smiled approvingly, taking his arm and kissing his hand before biting down into his wrist. Some blood dripped down Ian’s arm as Lord Gethin switched from biting to drinking and when he had his fill, he ordered Ian to lick up his own blood before kissing him again.
He drank from the boy’s other arm next. And then his thighs. Then he returned to his throat. Ian began feeling weaker and weaker, yet also warmer and warmer. Lord Gethin was being even more gentle than usual, as well as hungry. Ian was sure he wouldn’t be able to get out of bed after all this, but he was lost in the moment and the consequences didn’t dawn on him at all.
He was entirely at Lord Gethin’s mercy…and it felt good.
Every kiss, every bite, every touch—When he lifted him up, when he pushed him back down. His hand in his air, around his throat, on his hips. Wave after wave of pleasure until he couldn’t tell up from down anymore.
The room was spinning and the world around him shrunk. It was just him and Lord Gethin. He was speaking soft words. It sounded like Latin, but Ian couldn’t quite make sense of it. He didn’t want to make sense of it. All he wanted was to continue to feel his lord’s touch and hope that he was feeling the same kind of pleasure as he did, or better yet: Even more.
And then the bubble popped.
Ian’s breath stocked, a sharp pain in the middle of his chest knocking the wind out of him. The spinning abruptly stopped. He was looking up at the canopy covering the bed. Lord Gethin sat over him, looking down at him with the usual cold stare.
Ian wanted to ask him what was going on, but he couldn’t breathe.
The sharp pain in his chest suddenly got worse. He could feel his lungs and heart tear. He tasted blood in his mouth as he barely managed to cough. Something warm and wet began trickling down his chest and onto the sheets.
He only just managed to lift his head and found a large dagger sticking out from his chest. Lord Gethin held the handle with both hands as he slowly twisted it clockwise, still talking softly in some form of Latin.
Ian spasmed. He’d lost control of his body in a whole new way. He wanted to scream from the pain, but all that came out when he opened his mouth was more blood. He wanted to desperately gasp for air, but he just breathed in the same blood he just coughed up. He desperately reached for Lord Gethin, his one lifeline whilst he slowly drowned, but it was as if he couldn’t reach him. His hands were grasping at air.
The dagger was pulled out. More blood washed over Ian’s chest. It was warm, yet he shivered. Lord Gethin continued where he left off, pulling the boy closer by his hips as his convulsing caused him to tighten around him. Lord Gethin groaned and thrust deep inside him, gripping his thigh with one hand, while leaning his other next to his head as he looked down at him.
Ian’s eyes were bulging, his face twisted in terror, his gasps interrupted by the blood pooled in the back of his throat. Lord Gethin leaned in closer and kissed him, wanting to get a last taste of his blood before it was too late. Bubbles in the blood popped against his tongue and cheek as Ian arched his back and pressed against him before going limp.
Lord Gethin sat back up, looking down at Ian’s tear- and blood-stained face. His eyes still bulging, staring off into the distance, the life in them gone… He looked down at the boy’s chest, blood was still oozing from the wound left by the dagger, darkening slowly. It would be done soon…
He reached for Ian’s face, cupping it in one hand and stroking his thumb over his cheek as he pushed deep into him again. He knew the boy would never be this warm again, so he decided to savour it, pulling him closer by his thighs and holding his limp body in place.
There was no need to hold back any longer. His only regret was that he couldn’t hear the boy cry out as he drove himself deep inside him over and over and over again. The wound in his chest stopped oozing blood. There was nothing left but the lingering warmth that was still trapped inside his body.
Lord Gethin paused, convulsing a bit himself before he gasped and sat up again. His hands traced over Ian’s waist and thighs, his skin already beginning to cool and for a moment Lord Gethin mourned the loss of his favourite servants’ warmth. But he would gain his company for eternity, as well as his loyalty, his servitude…
“All mine…” Lord Gethin said quietly to himself, lifting up the boy’s arm and kissing his hand as he burrowed himself inside him once more, “Mine…for eternity.”
The bed creaked. Lord Gethin realised only now that the storm had faded and the only sound left in the room was the rhythmic creaking of the grand four-poster bed. There was something mesmerising about the way Ian’s whole body rocked with each thrust of his hips. His head lolled to the side, his eyes aimed at nothing instead of being focused on Lord Gethin. His arms shifted ever so slightly with each movement instead of gripping the sheets or grasping at Lord Gethin as Ian forgot himself.
He looked very much like a fragile doll, but for the moment he felt unbreakable so Lord Gethin continued to use him as he saw fit, until the first light of dawn crept into the room through the windows and Ian had no more warmth left in him. Only then did Lord Gethin allow him to rest, knowing it would be the final rest for the remainder of his new life…
Honestly the last part was hard to add. I tend to struggle writing smut on its own, but with a corpse??? It doesn't do anything!! There's only so many ways to describe nothing sadklfasd - Oh well. It was fun challenge. Probably never again though.
@unwholesomeocweek
Taglist: @sug4rgal | feel free to ask to be added!
Trigger warnings: Blood, dead body, implied dubcon
Characters are Inu and Victor. Inu killed Victor here, who he has a crush on, but its okay because Victor isn't able to stay dead! Well, Inu doesn't like hurting Victor, he likes Victor alot but he doesn't feel he has a choice since it was ordered by his boss (For added context there, Victor is a runaway test subject and Inu is tasked with bringing him back however he can). Aaanyway Inu is taking the time before Victor comes back to life to cuddle and get closer than he'd be able to normally. What Victor doesn't know won't hurt him in Inu's mind.
being trans is awesome ill be like "hey someone was transphobic to me on reddit" and someone else will be like "then get off reddit" and im like "well theyre also transphobic to me on tumblr" and they're like "well thats because youre on tumblr" and ill say "well people are transphobic on instagram and twitter" and people are like "yeah twitter and instagram are cesspits" and its like. i think you guys are missing the point that trans people should not be forced out of any space due to violent rhetoric and threats about who we are and yet its happening all the time. and yall seem to think thats just how it is and it shouldnt be
one of the reblogged tags has inspired me. yes, this is also about places that aren't accepting to trans people, im thinking of the south specifically. i left the south and moved out west, and we love it here, but we miss the south all the time. i lived my whole life in tennessee and i miss it all the time. i think about it all the time. and people will be like "but evan tennessee is a bad place to be trans" and it is. it is a bad place to be trans. but its my HOME. i grew up there, i lived my whole life until last year there, i have so many memories there. and im happy out here and its def more my speed out here but i would love the option to go back if i ever wanted to. and loads of trans people never leave tennessee or the south in general because its their home. trans people shouldnt be constantly forced and encouraged to move hundreds and thousands of miles away from the places they grew up and love because its unsafe to be trans there, it should simply be safe to be trans there
I fucking love fetish sexuality. I love people with totally bizarre, highly conceptual, abstract fetishes. I love the way sex is not merely sex, it is a story played through our bodies. I love the way the urge to create is so deeply and profoundly unstoppable that it alchemizes within us and becomes freakish desires. I love fetishism.
It turns out that you can become the person you’ve always envisioned but you’ll still have the person you were before inside of you and you have to treat them with as much forgiveness and love as possible
shipping a consensual, safe & sane pairing all the while i'm shaking my head in disapproval so the audience knows i still love wildly toxic abusive fictional dynamics
Maybe you've been asked this before, and I'm sorry if this sounds bad, but when you draw the younger humans or trolls, are they aged up in anyway? I mean they look older, but I'm just worried.
imma say this gently.
i be drawing piss, noncon, gore, necro and incest.
i am not a safe artist.
i had a whole series with a friend where our fav was gang raped, mpreg'd, mutilated, tortured mentally and physically for months.
i have not been asked this .
does the amount of muscle i put on the humans or trolls look like kids to you? would me saying they are aged up in every single art make you feel better?
yes, this image of gamzee eviscerating kk after torturing him for hours, everyone is 18 years old.
the nearly 20 year old comic full of child murder, incest, and casual violence? my randomly saying everyone is 18 makes it less offensive? brother believe whatever you want. all the lines is 32 years old cause that's how long it took me to get good at art.
like sorry (i'm not) yer worried or whatever but how is that my problem? i do no hide what i be drawing and enjoy. me saying oh theses guys are aged up literally does nothing but make moralist feel better and even then? not really lmaooooooo. will i get questions next about is this cnc or actual noncon?
gently. if you don't like what i've said, that's literally fine. you and other's worried about stuff like this are free to leave. block or whatever. i'm not mad, crashing out or anything.
