here be monsters...

18+ writing blog. Writer is a 30-something dude. Sharing my fictional loves with you! Lots of dark/nsfw/monster loving ahead 🥀

[themonstermatch]

Quilluary Day 2: Routine

I'm back again with EVEN MORE Elliott yearning, because apparently I can't get enough of this man. Ohhh he hurts my heart so good. He needs to be seen, to be wanted, to be needed, but our lovely writer can't seem to find the words 🥺

Don't forget to check out @astellus 's prompt list!

Prompt: Routine

Word Count: 1,045

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ocean never judges.

It simply is. The tides come in. The tides go out. It’s a constant, grounding presence, yet always in motion at the same time. A beautiful paradox at work. A reminder of both nature’s gentleness, and her fury.

Sometimes (a lot of times) Elliott stands on the pier, staring out into that endless void. Sometimes he thinks about his past. About his dreams, his ideas, his fears. Sometimes he doesn’t think about anything at all.

It’s all the same to the sea.

The waves don’t ask questions. The waves don’t let you down, don’t betray you or leave you with a million fractured excuses. The waves don’t care who you are, or where you come from.

Elliott likes that.

The pier is quiet today. It’s been like this ever since he moved to this salt-stained cabin with nothing but his books, his piano, and a dream. Here, he’d promised himself with the last of his savings, here he’d finally find respite from a world that sought to silence him. Here he’d finally write something that mattered.

He stands on the creaking boards at dawn, watching the light break across the horizon. He stands there at dusk, watching it bleed out into the waves. He stands there in the hours between, filled with half-formed sentences and a soul-deep loneliness he hasn’t found a name for.

Willy is usually there too, of course. He’s been fishing these waters since before Elliott was born, probably. They’ve developed an easy rhythm with one another. Companionable silence, an occasional nod, a quick chat now and then before they go their separate ways. Willy never pushes him to talk about more than he’s ready for.

Elliott likes that too.

It’s peaceful. It’s quiet. And at this point in his life? That’s what he needs more than anything.

At least, it was peaceful, until…

Three crab pots.

Three crab pots bobbing in the shallows, right there in his thinking spot.

When Elliott leaves his cabin the next morning, he freezes at the new addition.

It’s not irritation, exactly. It’s just…new. Interesting. A break in his usual routine.

At first he thinks it must be Willy’s handiwork, but the old fisherman never comes this far down on the pier. Something about the fish being left-handed or something? Elliott chuckles at the mental image, shaking his head. He’s never really understood Willy’s superstitions, but he’d learned long ago not to question them.

The farmer arrives at 8:43am.

He hears their boots on the weathered wood. Glances over, even though he tells himself not to. The farmer kneels next to the pots, efficient and careful. Pulling in the catch from each one and refilling it with bait before setting it back into the water.

A crumpled up newspaper from one. A broken CD from another. And sweet Yoba was that a lobster?!

“Mornin’, kid,” Willy calls out as he opens the shop for the day.

“Morning, Willy,” they call back, voice resonant on the breeze.

They finish their work in silence. Leave. Well, not without giving him a smile and a wave as they pass. It’s the smallest gesture, but Elliott finds himself smiling back too.

The pier settles back into its familiar rhythm, but Elliott finds himself staring at the spot where they stood and the gentle bob of the crab pots.

Hmm.

~~~

They come back the next day. 8:43am, like clockwork.

Not that he’s paying attention, or anything.

They come back the day after that, too. And the day after that.

Elliott finds himself…noticing. It’s the pattern of it all, really. The farmer and Willy exchange their morning pleasantries, the farmer empties the crab pots, and then it’s just the sounds: the creak of the pier, the call of the gulls, the slosh of water against the boards.

Footsteps fading into the sand as they leave.

“They’re a hard worker, that one,” Willy mentions one day after the farmer’s gone.

“Mm,” Elliott agrees, noncommittal.

But he’s noticed that too.

~~~

A week passes. Two. A month.

Elliott doesn’t mean to learn their patterns. It’s not like he’s stalking them or anything. It’s not like he’s showing up early just to make sure he can say hi to them too, so he can see that cheerful smile and wave, even when the farmer is covered in salty spray and their hair is tousled by the wind just so…

He tells himself it doesn’t matter, that they don’t matter. They’re just down here doing their job, checking their catch, and going about their day. He should do the same.

And he is.

...Sort of.

~~~

Autumn comes. The mornings grow cold.

The farmer shows up in a jacket now, breath misting in the salt air. They’re late, Elliott recognizes, and hates himself for noticing. He’s just out here getting some fresh air. Thinking about his next chapter and getting some inspiration in nature. They say the sea is good for the muse, right?

But the farmer is late, and he’s trying not to pay attention to the small empty feeling in his chest.

“Elliott?”

He whirls around, finds the farmer standing there with a mug of coffee. They hold it out like an offering. “Thought you might want some. It’s freezing out here.”

For a moment, all he can do is stare. Steam curls off the offered cup and floats away in the breeze. For him. They brought something specifically for him. Something in his chest does a complicated little twist.

A gift.

“Thank you,” he manages, and takes it.

Their fingers brush. Warm against the morning chill. Gone too soon.

The farmer goes back to their pots like it’s nothing. Like they haven’t just fundamentally altered his morning routine and added themselves into his life over the past few months. How he stupidly finds himself looking forward to this every day.

Willy hums old sea shanties. The farmer tends their crab pots. Elliott stands between both and lets the sounds wash over him. The splash of crab pots. The rush of the waves. The soft, satisfied sound he’s learned the farmer makes when they have a great catch.

The once-silent pier isn’t empty anymore. It’s full.

Full of all the things Elliott doesn’t say. Doesn’t write. Doesn’t dare to want.

Not yet.

[themonstermatch]

Quilluary Day 1: pomegranate promises

It's a-me, back from the dead with an Elliott obsession burning a hole in my brain. Luckily @astellus is here to save the day with a month-long prompt challenge about The Boy ™️

Without further ado, I give you... 650 words of Elliott REALLY enjoying a pomegranate 😂

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/78742361

Prompt: Pomegranate

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elliott holds the pomegranate like a secret, and something in his chest aches with a sweetness he doesn’t have the words for yet.

The farmer’s gift, still warm from their touch.

The fruit is heavy, substantial in stark contrast to the rest of his life. His aging cabin creaks in the salted breeze, and outside the call of the sea waits endlessly, promising everything and nothing all at once. He’d come here to find inspiration. To chase the ever-elusive muse and finish his book at last.

Instead, he’d found them. 

Elliott’s fingers dig into the pomegranate’s darkened skin. It’s grounding, in a way. Important. All the more so because of who had given it to him. 

When he breaks it open, thumbs pressing until it gives, the sound is obscene. Intimate. Like something far more precious than a fruit splitting open at his touch. The seeds catch the fading light, glittering clusters of rubies, small little hearts in their white-ribbed chambers. 

Persephone ate six seeds and lost herself to the underworld, he thinks, and brings the fruit to his mouth anyway.

It breaks open on his tongue, all vibrant tart-sweet, and Elliott makes a sound he’s glad no one is here to witness. The juice floods his mouth, cold and alive. Little rivulets escape to roll down his chin, dark red and sticky-sweet. 

It’s so good.

Sinfully so.

And since no one is watching…

Elliott eats like a man starving. Like the poet who’s finally found the perfect phrase after seasons of searching. Seeds crack between his teeth, dozens of tiny destructions all at once. Each one floods his senses with sweetness, and acid, and something that tastes almost like copper, almost like — 

Blood. Rich, pure, powerful. The essence of life, held in his hands.

He doesn’t stop eating.

Juice runs down his wrist. Stains his cuffs. His fingers are sticky with it, red and marked in a way that feels significant even though it’s just fruit.

Just.

Hmm. 

It’s never just anything when it comes from them, is it?

Piece by piece, he tears the pomegranate apart. The white pith breaks in his crimson hands. Seeds scatter across his desk like small casualties. His mouth is so full of sweetness and sharpness that he can barely breathe from the intensity of it all.

There’s something so debauched about this, he knows. Something raw and hedonistic, so unlike the careful persona he presents to the rest of the valley. It’s a secret indulgence, a guilty pleasure he seldom allows. 

(There’s a reason pomegranates are his favorites, after all…)

When he catches his reflection in the window, he barely recognizes himself. Lips stained the color of wine, of crushed roses, of want. His tongue is painted with it, the drops of red on his collar bearing witness to a timeless hunger.

Chin glistening. Eyes dark. Covered in juices and panting like a man possessed. 

He looks utterly undone.

Good, something whispers deep in his chest. Good.

Soon there’s nothing left but the hollow rind cupped in his palm. Something offered up, accepted, and consumed. The flesh is gone, and now only the memory of it remains. 

His hands are still shaking.

When he brings his fingers to his mouth, he tastes the lingering sweetness there, and with it? The farmer’s kindness. 

This is what it means to be consumed by something, he thinks. To be split open, body and soul.

Outside, the sea crashes against the shore. Eternal. Patient.

Inside, Elliott sits in his cabin stained with pomegranate juice and longing.

The farmer’s soft hands and warm smile linger in his memory. The devoured pomegranate and scattered seeds evidence of his sin.

Maybe, just this once, he could allow himself to want.

The farmer will visit again tomorrow.

Maybe they’ll bring a pomegranate.

[lavenderprose]

Emmrich actually IS the suave and charismatic gentleman we've all been waiting for. Forget your Alistairs and your Cullens. Emmrich says dear and darling and has enough Big Dick Energy that you sense him coming from three rooms away. What's that shift in the air? Emmrich's natural necromantic aura touching the Fade? Well yes but also the sound of his monster cock swinging in his perfectly tailored trousers.

Emmrich talks to Rook like there's a love letter addressed to them specifically lodged in his voice box. He touches them like he paid money for the privilege. Emmrich uses his wealth to help others, he is NOT a person who desires power, and he expects the same of others. One time he looked at Rook and said, "The only good noble is a dead one," and even though Rook knew he was talking about the residents of the Necropolis, or perhaps because of that, it made Rook so wet they had to go sit down against a tree and bang their head a little to calm down.

Sometimes Rook shows up in Emmrich's room of an evening and without even missing a beat Emmrich says, "Come have a seat, darling," and Rook sits next to him only for him to tut and pat his knee. Immediately, Rook is perched there like he's Santa Claus.

"The things one can sense when truly in tune with the fade are inspiring," Emmrich says, and other such nonsense as his touch finds the path of least resistance to Rook's skin without hesitation. His fingers are cool and kind and they trace up the side of Rook's ribs like they might slot perfectly between them, like Rook was built as a home for his hand.

"You're killing me," Rook says, because he is, because Rook could actually choke and die from how badly they want to feel Emmrich's mustache on their thighs.

"Yes, but only a little death," Emmrich says. He smiles and his bangles jingle merrily away as he plays with Rook's chest. "Every time I touch your body, I'm already longing for the moment I'll touch it again."

"Guh," says Rook. "Hrng. Hunh."

"I quite agree. I find that words fail me when it comes to...how you make me feel, dearest." This is what Emmrich says, but fails utterly to demonstrate as he leans in and delicately bites Rook's earlobe, whispering seventeen of the twenty filthiest things Rook has ever heard. Things like I'll eat you like a cake, though you're more delicious and the Fade sings your name when I'm in you and--

"If I have to hear ONE MORE THING about that necromancer's cock," seethes Solas, who did NOT know that he was signing up for nightly pornographic lullabies when he decided to kick it in the back of Rook's head. This is the fourth time he's said that this week. He will hear many, many more things about that necromancer's cock.

"YES EMMRICH," echoes through the Fade, "Gods YES, harder! Give it to me!"

The spirits of the Fade, who like Emmrich a whole helluva lot more than they like Solas right now, twirl and giggle.

[howtobangyourmonster]

Solas and Johanna Hezenkoss start an Emmrich Hate club that is really just poorly-disguised envy

[existennialmemes]

Do not worry

If your wings have not yet grown massive

If your carapace is not yet thick & shiny

If your talons cannot yet rend flesh & bone

If your shriek cannot yet shatter glass

You still have time to become the Eldritch Horror you're meant to be!

[lyonneriley]

a monster who delights simply in touching you, in testing how sensitive you are and what earns your sweet little moans. he always starts out gentle, uncertain, until he catches a whiff of your arousal... and the beast inside him takes over.

he'll try so hard to be slow and careful but it's too much—the sound of you, the smell of you—that he can't control himself. he needs to mate, right now, with you. it's the only thing that will sate his need.

you're so slick that it's no trouble for him to plunge inside you. his claws scrabble the floor as he frantically thrusts, clutching you tight as his fangs leave marks in your skin. he takes you over and over until you reek of him, and he's finally satisfied.

[ofallthingsnasty]

Idk if your still doing yandere monsters

But a big strong tall orc who seen the horrors of war and is seen as heartless by his people finds chubby reader lost in the woods after her husband abdoned her and grows obsessed soon they go from being scared in the woods to being scared as a orc bigger and stronger in everyway carries them everywhere and constantly showing them off and making sure his captive is dressed in the finest pelts and spoiled but constantly punished to make sure their a perfect little soft mate

your brain, anon.... i want it... this is so juicy 🤤 i really want to write a little one-shot for this and i will!! one day haha -- until then, have some rambles

tags: yandere, heavy dubcon, exhibitionism, minors dni, kind of kidnapping?, f!reader word count: 0.8k

That thought is so cute... Just this is big, burly and scary orc treating you like his most prized possession (well, you kind of are), both gentle and patronizing. To go from being absolutely distraught and scared, all alone in the wilderness, to being saved and cared for by this huge man who looks like he has taken more than dozen lives yet cooes down at you as though you’re a little lap dog - how dizzying that must be. Your poor little head will spin during these first few days, for sure. He is so patient at first, as well - listens to your tearful words and decides then and there that that poor excuse of a human being didn’t deserve you in the first place, that you are way too precious to be treated with so little respect. He’s getting in on the years, craves a little stability, someone to hold - and you are just so cute and helpless, perfect to keep. (And he deserves this, he thinks. He found you out there and saved your life, it’s what you owe him.) He’s never mean but he can get quite stern with you. If you request to be let go, to go back to your family to lick your wounds, he’ll explain to you that he basically owns you now - and that it’d be terribly ungrateful to run from your savior like that. He doesn’t force you to do things you don’t want to do - he can wait to split you open on his cock, he doesn’t mind. You still need to recover from that terrible injustice your former husband did to you - but he’ll make sure to fuck you on his fingers, to have you ride his strong thighs until you cum, again and again. He enjoys seeing your face contort into absolute bliss, to feel how you let go.  And when you finally let him fuck you, it’s all the sweeter. He’s gentle with you at first, knows how big he is compared to you but he’ll train you to take him fully and without any trouble in no time. He loves to just pound into you, to watch your helpless little face and your tits bounce with every thrust, loves to show you that he owns you now. 

He isn’t afraid to do it in public, either. You better lose all of your inhibitions quickly because he’ll have you on his lap during nights with his friends, bends you over the table during lunch. No one will even bat an eye when you suddenly cum right in front of them or when he empties himself in you. The nights he spends with his friends will become more than just treasured memories when you cockwarm him, yelping and sputtering at every jolt of laughter that runs through him. He isn’t the type to take out his anger on you, ever - but you will get punished when the need arrises. He’ll keep it short and simple. Often a spanking is sufficient for him, especially when he gets to make sure your skin runs hot from the hits and you get all teary-eyed and stuttery. It’s just too precious to him, his little wife weepy and apologetic - and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t fuck you afterwards, mouth full of condescending praise and proclamations of love. He needs to keep you in check but it’s all part of the fun for him - so if you’re a little feisty, he’ll enjoy that, too. It just means that he gets to laugh at your sharp words and useless slaps against his chest - and then make you eat your actions with the palm of his hand. You’ll never want for anything - as condescending as he can be, he acknowledges you’re your own person, that you have interests and needs. Whatever it is you like to do, you’ll get all the supplies for it and then some. He loves the way your eyes light up when he presents you with an expensive gift, the way you bite your lip shyly while accepting it. He loves to drape you in jewelry, as well. Seeing you wear nothing but delicately crafted necklaces and rings and bracelets appeals to something deep within him that wants to provide for you, that preens at the thought of him being able to dress you in luxurious items - he’s your husband now and he loves to spoil you.

All in all, he may not be the easiest to be with because he keeps treating you like a pet but it’s simple to figure him out and satisfy. Never sadistic, too - when you’re good, you’re good - but a little on the rougher side. You’ll be provided for for the rest of your life - at the teeny, tiny cost of being fucked raw every single day and cooed at like some lap dog.

[sluggy-dude]

Love monsters with big long messy tongues! Just the thought of them using it to fuck one of your holes. Or fuck you with their big cock while slowly kissing you, but they end up pushing more and more of their tongue down your throat; because they got too excited from fucking you...

[enbyfication]

godd it's hot when you're so horny and desperate that you can't even get off properly and you end up just gripping your bedsheets and grinding against your mattress and whining into your pillow, when all you know is that you need to make yourself feel so good but you don't quite have the brain left to figure out how

[monster-switchery]

dragon boyfriend who crafts a nest for you both

dragon boyfriend who considers you part of his hoard and protects you as such

dragon boyfriend who drapes his wings over you like a blanket at night, holding you close and keeping you warm

dragon boyfriend who worships every part of you as treasure as he fucks you in your shared nest

[dreamyintersexpuppy]

monsters that treat you gently tho…. like a werewolf with claws so sharp just brushing your skin leaves red marks but runs their paws across your body so slowly and carefully, needing to caress you and narrowly avoiding breaking skin each time their claw scrapes against you by chance,,,

or a minotaur manhandling you, needing to lift you up to reach their lips since their so much bigger than you, and their rugged hands grip you so gently with almost a shiver of the effort it’s taking for them to not grip you tighter, like they’re holding the smallest softest animal they’ve ever seen and worry that any rough treatment they’re so readily capable of might break you,,,,

or a tentacle monster coiling around you, manipulating your legs to spread so sweetly for them but in a way so tender, tugging just enough to let you know where to move as if asking permission and only fully pulling you there once you begin the movement yourself, leading you and contorting you for their pleasure but always at your pace,,,

sigh… gentle monsters……

[shinykitteh-deactivated20231130]

okay but those fics in which someone gets taken hostage by an entity/monster whose cum is addictive and an aphrodisiac, that breaks your mind to the point you can only drool and beg to be fucked and filled like a good, obedient little fucktoy? that’s the good shit right there

[pashdrawing]

wogwyrm

[suohenki]

Designed some Mantis boys 💕

[monster-switchery]

werewolf boyfriend in a rut who needs to claim you as his

werewolf boyfriend digging his claws into your hips as he pulls you onto him

werewolf boyfriend biting every part of you he can reach making sure there'll be plenty of visible marks so everyone knows you belong to him

werewolf boyfriend sinking his teeth into your shoulder as he knots you, filling you with his pups

werewolf boyfriend licking all his bite marks while he's still stuck inside you

[mayullla]

Quest: Clear out the slimes in grandmother's garden.

Character(s): Slime Monster (Oc / Original work) Summary: You are an adventurer, taking up missions and quests in the guild. You didn't know that your choices all have unfair consequences. You thought of the slime more as a pet while it thought of you as a mate. Tags/warnings: Yandere!monster, fem!reader, non-consensual kissing and touching, possession (not the reader), taking a bath in front of a 'supposed' pet if that is a warning needed

You took a simple mission, help an old grandmother clean out the slimes that have been eating all her crops and vegetables in her garden.

Clearing out the slime with your sword you noticed a smile, a little lighter blue than the other slimes. Weakly moving around while others jumped in panic at the sight of your sword. You should have killed it then and there, but you left it.

The old lady was kind and gave you your reward for clearing out the monster yet she could not help but question if it was really all right for you to hold such a dangerous creature in your hand. "Are you sure it would be okay to keep such a thing? I know some people keep them as pets but aren't they still wild creatures?" You tried to calm the worries of the grandmother stating that you will only release the slime out to the wild.

Walking deeper into the forest you gave it some food to eat that you have brought with you. You watched as the sandwich slowly disintegrate inside the slime's body. You wondered why you let this one go, really while most slimes are harmless too many also cause trouble for the ecosystem. Maybe it was because of its unique color, you never saw such pink slime in your life.

"Don't come back if you know what is good for you." You mumbled poking the little slime on your hand. The gushing sound it made in delight perhaps because it finally ate made you smile. When you thought you were far enough from the place you tried to place the slime down. "There you go- huh?" You were supposed to plop the slime onto the grassy floor instead the slime continued to cling to your hand refusing to let go. "What the..."

No matter what you did, the slime did not let go. As you scoop the slime from one hand it started to cling to the other when you tried to remove the creature from your hand with your boots. It still didn't let go instead choosing to stick to your boot's ankle making it hard for you to walk.

After trying to get this thing off from you and failing miserably you had no choice but to take the thing back home as the sun slowly goes down and the day ends. "What am I supposed to do with you." You mumbled scratching the back of your head as you glance at the thing on your arms giggling in happiness that you weren't trying to throw it out anymore.

The little thing had become a pet of sorts for you. It followed you around the house everywhere you go. When you finish eating, the remaining food and plate you would feed it to the slime where it would eat all the leftovers and clean the plate and then give it to you. (You thought it the little thing could become your dishwasher with how clean your plates look but at the same time the idea that it was not washed by water and soap and instead slime doesn't sit right with you.)

It would follow you when you get ready for the day and follow you to the bathroom and even when you shower. The slime had at one point crawled into your bathtub once joining you in your soak. You didn't think much of it really, the thing didn't have eyes nor a mouth or anything it was just a blob really.

"Hmmmm" You poked the floating slime that did its best to get on your bathtub. The slime clinging to your finger at that moment and started crawling closer to you till it reached your shoulder nuzzling itself on your neck.

It followed you to your bed when you went to sleep. The thing tried to cuddle next to you again, and while it didn't bother you while in the bath it bothered you now. It was a weird feeling! How were you supposed to sleep went it feels like one side of the bed was wet. Too uncomfortable you grabbed the slime and placed it on a pillow that you tossed to the floor.

"That will be your bed from now on all right?" You told it satisfied when you saw the curious motion it was doing looking at you and then at the pillow. Too tired you were soon fast asleep.

You woke with the thing right on top of your chest as if it had sneaked up when you were sleeping. And the next time it happened again and again, you tried to put the small slime outside your room but it seems that since it didn't have any bones it was able to slide on the crack of the door and place itself again close to you.

You had gotten so used to this slime being in your life thought of it nothing more than a pet unknowing that in the end it still was a monster. That pink slime grew so attached to you, unknown to you its attachment was somewhat an obsession than something cute.

In a sense, it thought of you as its mate. Your affection for it was a courting ritual for the pink slime as it returned your affection with rubs in your hand almost as it was a puppy when all it wanted was to merge with you. Yet it can't. Slime went the smartest yet they pick up fast as it watched you interact with a man. You wondered what the slime was thinking when it watched you as you talked to your crush. You have fallen in love with another adventurer for a while now and while you two aren't partners sometimes you would join with him on a quest or two if you happen to bump into each other.

But you weren't able to dwell in those thoughts anymore when the adventure called your name wondering if you were okay or not as you seem to zone out a bit. "Are you okay? Want to rest somewhere?" "O-oh no! I am completely alright!"

You wondered where that slime had gone after the quest, disappearing near the end. You called out a small nickname you have given to it yet no blob of pink appeared in your vision and after trying to search for it for a while you returned home thinking that it finally returned back to the wild. You felt everything was odd at first there was no squishing sound of slime following you and when you tried to reach out for something you realized it was there anymore.

After staying in your life for more than 2 months you have grown used to the little guy that you can't help but become a little solemn at the thought.

Yet you didn't want this... You certainly didn't want this...

It was a rainy night when you got a knock on the door. It has been two weeks since the pink slime left but it also has been two weeks since you last saw that certain adventurer that you have in mind. You gasp when you saw him all drenched from the rain standing right in front of the door. "H-hey... It seems that i have been caught in the rain... Sorry, can I stay at your place for a little till the rain stops..." He told you having an awkward smile on his face.

You have given him the shower while finding clothes that he could wear. You let him stay for a while, thinking that he would leave the moment the rain stopped but it didn't as your heart beat with how close the man that you liked was as if the man was unconsciously nuzzling you on your neck as the two of you waited on the sofa for the rain to stop.

When you realize that he was that slime that you once cared for it was too late when he forced you down on the sofa his hand slowly changes to something more slimy texture yet still strong enough to pin your arms down. The smile he gave was so lovestruck and goofy as you could see specks of pink in his eyes.

When he forced a kiss something that the slime has sawn all the other couples would do, you could taste and feel the texture of slime on your tongue as the slime on top of you curiously explore your mouth. His eyes were sickeningly sweet... you now knew you make a mistake in bringing the slime in.

Note: Hope you like it either way. The next poll with happen soon probs-

[breebird33]

ever use monsters to work out your complicated feelings toward romance? yeah, me neither...

happy valentine's 🫀🌿

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

Thinking about a monster of the woods with a cock that tapers oh-so-slowly, with a thin, prehensile tip. Once it’s slid in as deep as it could possibly go- to the depths of its mate’s bowels or into their womb- the tip unfurls like a flower in full bloom and locks it in place.

.

[themonstermatch]

I literally gasped — that sounds so nice 🥺