#goblin x human

[monster-disaster]

[goblin] Rust

goblin!Rust x human!Reader Good to know: public sex, freeuse

Summary: You work in a bar where the rules are slightly different from the outside world.

The bar is calm. The lights from the bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling are dim, casting a warm glow across the place. Quiet music plays in the background. The singer's voice is deep and hoarse. You can barely hear it because of the sound of the bottles as your co-worker fills up the shelves behind you while you are busy swiping down the counter with a wet rag. All around, the air is filled with the quiet murmur of conversations. The clinking of glasses and the occasional burst of laughters echo off the walls. They are decorated with posters and faded photographs. The wide windows are darkened with the name and logo of the bar. The tables and chairs all around the place were crafted decades ago. They are still sturdy and marked with the memory of the countless drinks poured and the many fights that escalated over the years.

"They are here," the vampire behind you hums, glancing over her shoulder to the window. You can see the motorbikes parking down in a long row. The rumbling of the engines shakes the walls and goes straight to your core. "I can hear it," you reply, watching to door burst open with a loud thud.

Soon, the bar is full of bikers, taking their places all over the room as usual. They are loud and dominating. It's nothing you are not used to. You've worked at the bar for a few years. You know most of the patrons since Grimbrook is usually not a place for tourists. Especially not the bar with all kinds of monsters and humans.

Your next hour is busy with taking care of everything. The smell of alcohol and cheap beer is heavy and thick in the air, mixing with smoke. You can't hear the music anymore through the crowd's constant noise. Laughs and shouts boom every now and again from various tables. The boots thud heavily on the wooden floor.

"There is my favorite girl," the goblin greets you from one of the booths next to the walls. His smile is barely noticeable under his crooked nose. His green skin seems a bit more yellowish under the hue of the lights. The black leather jacket he always wears is over the backrest, leaving him in a black t-shirt and jeans. "Hey, Rust," you greet the male. "How's your night?" "It's better now that you are here," he hums, slipping his hand on your hip. His fingers grope your flesh, letting his nails dig into the fabric of your black skirt. "Really?" You laugh, stepping away from his hold as you put the empty bottles and glasses on the tray in your other hand. "I'm busy." "Well, you wouldn't be if Eva would do her job," Rust replies with a hungry smirk on his thin lips. Following his gaze, you see your co-worker on an orc's lap. The male is big and sturdy. His large hands are on your friend's hips, keeping Eva on his lap as she drinks from his neck. They grind to each other the whole time. "Oh, I think she is doing her job just fine," you laugh. Rust's hand is on you again. "And you?" His thumb grazes your nipple through the fabric of your shirt and bra. "I'm doing it, too," you reply. "Just not the fun part." "Don't make me wait for too long," he shouts after you when you leave their table.

You can feel wetness already pooling between your legs, ruining your panties. Heat lits up in your belly, and you have to force yourself to leave the goblin with his friends and continue your job.

"Are you done?" You smirk under your breath when the vampire female appears next to you. Her usually pale complexion seems much healthier. There is a slight hint of pink on her cheeks, and her lips are red and swollen. "With the orc?" She asks. "Yes. For the night? No." You laugh at her reply while serving the monsters around the counter. Your nose is full of the smell of the various drinks. "Oh," Eva continues. "Rust wants to see you." A knowing smile tugs on the corner of her lips. "I-" "Don't worry," she adds before you can say anything. "I will take care of everything while you are busy." "Like last week?" "Oh, shush."

Leaving the vampire at the counter, you make your way to the booth where Rust is still sitting with a half-orc and a demon. They are talking. The half-orc laughs at something. His head tilts back, and the golden loop around his tusk glint in the light. His voice is hoarse but booming.

Without saying anything, Rust pulls up your skirt until it's around your waist, and anybody can see your matching panties covering your mound. His nails graze the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he tugs you closer to him until you are sitting on his lap. His body and the desk in front of you barely give you enough space, and you have to spread your legs not to kick Rust's friends. Because of the height difference, the goblin has to sit straight if he wants to continue talking with the others. His voice is a deep rumble on your back, and his words fan over the curve of your neck.

"That's what I am talking about," he grunts into your ear, squeezing your hips as you start to grind down on him. The rough fabric of his jeans and his erection underneath it rub against your slit repeatedly. You can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with every passing second. Your palms are on the table as you try to keep your balance and circle your hips on his lap. You can feel him moving under you. He pushes up, nudging your clit. Your lips part in a silent groan.

The male and his friends continue talking while you chase your own pleasure. Your pussy aches for more, your hole clenches around nothing.

"Stand up," Rust says, stopping your movement. The muscles of your legs flex as you keep your weight above him, slightly bending over the table. You can hear the zipper of Rust's jeans as he frees himself, but your attention is drawn to the demon in front of you. He reaches over the table, unbuttons your shirt, and pushes down your bra until your breasts are bare for his dark eyes. His forked tongue licks across his sharp teeth. Your nipples are tight peaks. The edges of the lacy cups rub against them every time you move.

"C'mere, love," Rust grunts, grabbing your hips again to pull you back onto his lap. His cock slides into you easily. He is not as long as your other patrons, but the piercing at the tip makes you forget everyone else. You can feel the cold metal rubbing against your walls, nudging you in all the right places. "Fuck," the male grunts behind you when you are fully seated on him. You envelop his cock warmly and tightly. He can feel your pussy clamping around his shaft, begging for more. "This is your job, no?" He asks, satisfied. "Keeping my cock warm with your sweet pussy."

And to your utmost disapproval, that's what you do for the next ten minutes. Rust doesn't let you fidget and squirm, craving every bit of friction you can get. He keeps you on him, enjoying your misery while his friends talk and stare at you. Their gazes are heavy and hungry on your tits. You push them out some more with every breath you take as you lean back against Rust's chest. His hands from your side slip down between your legs. His fingers tease across your slit, finding your clit with slow circles. You are soaked. Your arousal drips down onto his lap.

"One more minute, and she will combust," Eva states, smirking as she puts a few new bottles down on the table. Her eyes rake over your bare chest, unashamed. "Do you think so?" Rust jokes but grinds up into your hole. The sudden movement takes your breath away as your head falls back on his shoulder. Eyes flutter shut. "But she is so warm."

He teases you for a few more seconds before making you move on his cock finally. He uses your hole to his heart's content while his friends in front of you stare openly, sipping their beers. Your breasts bounce with every thrust and every circle of your hips as you get higher and higher on the goblin's cock. His clever fingers work on your clit with experience. Rust knows how to drive you crazy with need.

Eva is still at the table, watching. Her dark eyes glint with hunger as she leans closer. Before you know it, your moans get muffled by her lips. Her tongue pushes into your mouth, dominating you while Rust fucks into you. Your pussy is tight and demanding. You want everything he can give you. The burning coil in your stomach grows, and your muscles tense. You almost scream when Eva bites your bottom lip, licking down the blood and sucking for more. The slight pain and the stretch of your aching pussy are enough to push you over the edge. Every nerve in your body bursts with pleasure. Your limbs start to tingle, and your hole clamps down and pulses around the goblin's erection.

"Fuck," Rust groans, pushing you up over the table. Your stomach is flat on the wooden surface. You feel him pulling out of you, and soon, his warm seed paints your waist and ass while you are still shaking after your orgasm. Your muscles jerk, and your pussy clenches.

Blood slips down your chin from the corner of your lips. When you look up and see the demon standing up, too, tugging on his cock a few times before pushing his length into your open lips, you know you will have a long night.

- Masterlist Grimbrook Masterlist Patreon

[deepspace-nasty]

thinking about making monster ocs for purely horny reasons and its sooo fun, especially when putting them with my self insert

a goblin man who works on metal & robots, pinning me against the wall of his workshop, sharply telling me off for distracting him. but its not my fault he's so cute blushing when he can see my hairy chest peeking out from my white tank top, or my small bulge in my short shorts. its so cute seeing his own bulge grow watching me lean over a table, hearing him curse as i wiggle my ass for him.

an ancient dragon, large and imposing, draping me in the finest metals and gems he has, shifting into his humanoid form for ease of fucking me. gold chains with ruby and garnet accents tight against my body as his clawed hands rove against my thighs. even in his humanoid form, he's much larger than me, and the thought of his sharp fingers inside my tight ass makes my head fuzzy.

a ghost, watching me from the ceiling of my room as i stretch obscenely and hump my pillow. feeling cold hands skirt up my torso, fondling my chest and pinching my nipples. suddenly finding glowing globs of something all over my boxers, and one day even on my face. i can hear the moans of pleasure from my ghost roommate mingling with my own as i jerk off.

[monsterfloofs]

(A little add on to the story of the Night Librarian. First day of being a librarian who deals with a nocturnal crowd of monsters and spooks! More Citrine and introducing another new friend :3 )

Part I

Goblin (Citrine) x Anonymous Protagonist (New Librarian) Part II (Sfw)

Your eyes widened, “Oh! I didn’t think that–”

But the goblin raises a hand brushing your comment to the side. “It’s what most people first ask in any case, I was just getting the pleasantries out of the way.” The ghost of an amused smile droops back down to a sulky frown. 

“But. . . I don’t think this will do. . . no. . . not at all. The library is kept dark at night for a reason. The nocturnal folk can’t handle the normal bright lights of the library, and we can’t have you stumbling around in the dark. You could get hurt.” They tsked in annoyance. “I wonder if they even told you about that. . .” Their eyebrows knit together as they pinched the bridge of their nose. “We’ll just have to reassign you to a different job, something during the day where this won’t be an issue. . .” “The person who interviewed me had said that everything else was filled up,” You blurted nervously, beginning to feel a dread beginning to wind around in your stomach. “This was the only thing they had. – Please, I don’t really have any other options than this job at the moment, can’t I at least try?”

A doubtful expression crosses the goblins' expression, their bright eyes staring at you for a hard moment before they flutter and look away. “I. . . suppose. One night. Yes. . . that should be fine. I’ll have to talk to Ethel. I know we are desperate for another night librarian but. . .” They cleared their throat and you straightened up, pretending that you hadn’t been keenly listening to their monologue. Citrine sighs, before they beckon you with their hand. 

“I will have to turn the light off, but I want you to reach the stairs before we do.” You nod and hurry over stopping beside the short goblin, they give one particularly glum look around the bright space. Before -click- It all goes dark again. 

You are about to take a step forward before you see two bright eyes suddenly flicker into existence, the red circles blink and twinkle in the dark. 

Citrine rests a clawed hand on your arm, to give enough pause to talk to the creature. 

"Who's thissss?" The strange red circles crunch unwards in amusement. "The newww hire?"

From the room being so dark the luminescent eyes are the only thing you can see, you can see the golden light of Citrine's eyes squint. "Yes, and I would appreciate you not scaring them off, like you did the last one."

The round globus eyes tilt, as if their owner cocked their head in surprise. "Meeeeee?" The whispery voice hushes in mock innocence. "I wwwwwwould neverrrrrrrrrr,"

Judging by Citrine's own glowing eyes, you surmise that their glum expression doesn't look particularly impressed by the others' commentary.

"This is Umbra." Citrine says to you quietly, "They mainly work the front desk, they are. . . mostly harmless."

Umbra twitters in amusement, and you startle as you feel multiple hands grabbing your free hand, shaking it enthusiastically. Your eyes widening as you stare at the eyes on the other side of the room, which hadn't moved.

"The pleasssssurrrrre is minnnneeee!" The chatter cheerfully, laughing as the hands pull back.

"Shadow demon," Citrine specified, looking back up at you, "They can only fully materialize in the dark. If they harass you, simply turn on a light, that should deter them from further shenanigans."

"Heeeeeeey! That'sssss ruuude!" Umbra complains, soft voice raising a fraction louder. "I haaaaave been a sssssssaint lately!"

Citrine gives them a steady look, ". . . I'm sure. Come on," The goblin rolls their eyes at you, using their eyes to direct your attention back to the stairs. "I'll give you a short tour, and see if I can find you a red flashlight."

"A red flashlight?" You echo curiously as you nudge your feet forward. Using them to blindly etch out the first step of the staircase before lifting your knee. 

"That won't bother the residents because it's a red light?"

"Yes. That is correct, some of the library goers may not particularly enjoy it, but it is certainly more palatable to them than other kinds of light."

You watch Citrine's eyes bob past you, unbothered by the lack of light, but their footfalls are slow as they watch you feel your way up the stairs. Standing engulfed in the dark you turn on your phone and flick on the flashlight, keeping it low beside your hip as you use it until you can safely get up the stairs. Citrine helpfully informs you once you have reached the top. You give a sigh of relief, hesitantly switching off the light. 

"Wait here," Citrine intones calmly, "I will go fetch you a flashlight so you can roam about easier." They shuffle you to stand to a spot beside the staircase, before their glowing eyes turn into the dark and disappear.

“Heyy,” You jump at the voice that spoke almost inches from your ear, jumping and turning to the red dots floating next to your head.

“Ah. . . Umbra. . . right?” You grin awkwardly, “I thought you were supposed to be downstairs manning the front desk.” You make an attempt to tease the formless spector, after all, it sounds like you're going to be seeing them and Citrine a lot more if you stay working nights. You may as well try and be friendly. In response, Umbra’s eyes shift upwards again, their blinking eyes looking like upturned little red moons in the dark.

“But I ammmm,” 

More little pairs of red glowy moons appear around you. 

“I can beeee in as mmmanny plaaccess as I waaaaant~” 

Shadow Noodle, you thought to yourself, as a sudden chill races down your spine. Gottcha.

Your grin wobbles, “I. . . Imagine all the work you could get done– b-being in so many places at once,” 

The extra pairs of red eyes wink out, and for a moment you worry you had taken your joking too far. You hadn’t meant to, you had just gotten nervous. Jokes were what kept you calm when you felt anxious, but you hadn’t meant to sound rude.

“I’m sorry,” you began, “Sorrrrrry?” The original pair of eyes by your shoulders remained upturned, “Why ssssssorrrrry? I liiiiiiiiiike you allllllllreadddyyyyy, you haaaaave a sensssse of humor, unliiiike ol misssssery gutssssss,” You felt a very soft pat on top of your head as you hear a raspy chuckle, “I cannnn telllllll we’lllllll geeeeet along jusssst finnnnne.”

[angelltheninth]

How Monster Boyfriends Make You Feel Good

Pairing: Vampire, Orc, Werewolf, Kraken, Minotaur, Goblin x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, rough sex, cum eating, size kink, creapie, blood drinking, tentacle shenanigans, knotting, period sex, mating bites

A/N: If you're wondering why I'm writing more monster stuff it's cause I've been reading a lot of it lately.

Your vampire boyfriend doesn't drink your blood by biting you when you're on your period, instead he comes inside of you and eats up the mix of your blood and his cum when your pussyhole when he pulls out, that way he cleans you up and gets a meal out of it

Your orc boyfriend knows you want him to be rough with you but he makes you hold still on his cock as your cunt adjusts to his size and girth, he's a gentle one when he needs to be right before he almost breaks you, almost

Your werewolf boyfriend knots you every time it's the full moon, that fat, bulbus part of his cock pushing, making room inside of you as he ruts into you from behind, howling at your joined release, your pussy spreading for him, on him

Your kraken boyfriend makes use of all the of your holes with his tentacles before his cock, he knows that being restrained and held down while being fucked by the structured tentacles will make your eyes roll back

Your minotaur boyfriend fucks you from behind while you are bent over against the wall, one of his big hands is on your hip, the other going from the jiggling meat of your ass to your front, your stomach where he presses down to feel every thrust

Your goblin boyfriend doesn't give you time to rest until he's spent, which can be hours and hours, you wouldn't think his short stature had so much stamina but he can't stop fucking you until there's no more room for his cum inside of you

[specshroom]

Fantasy Short Kings <3

~•°♥°•~

Your typical brash Dwarf warrior. Who is only amused when you, the mage of the party, try and rile him up by poking fun at his height. He knows you're only acting like a brat so he'll go rough on you but he eventually gives in to your lewd fantasies.

"You know, I can probably find a spell to make you....bigger."

He grabs onto the belt hugging your hips and pulls you down to your knees in front of him.

"Are ya sure? Ye can't even handle me this size, Lass."

You can't help the pleased look on your face as you bite your lip and look up at him with love struck eyes from your place, kneeling on the floor. The dwarf scoffs at how satisfied you are with yourself and your "plan". He wastes no time lifting you over his broad shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carrying you towards his tent.

~•°♥°•~

Goblin boyfriend who is very horny for you and you alone. When others belittle his sexual abilities or make fun of his height he probably wasn't listening cus he was staring at your boobs. However, when he does manage to pay attention to the comments, his reaction is basically just: "Hoes mad."

He's obsessed with your legs, thighs specifically. He encourages you to wear shorts, skirts, dresses, tighter pants, anything to show off your gorgeous legs.

His goal is to make you feel even half as sexy as he thinks you are.... and he really likes your legs. His undeniable attraction and unrelenting hunger for you gets you off far more than any bigger man could.

~•°♥°•~

Werewolf who's the runt of his pack and definitely on the smaller side. Most of the pack laughs when he finally confesses that he got a mate. He's confided with you about his insecurities before and how the pack treats him so you already have the perfect game plan when you both get invited to a pack get-together. That's why you're bouncing on his cock in the backseat of his car moaning into his neck,

"You gonna mark me up, Baby? Show them who I belong to?"

Making him whine out, "Yeah, f-fuck yes." while gripping your hips and cumming inside your greedy hole.

The look on his pack mates faces was priceless when you walked in there basically reeking of each other with barely hidden bite marks. While the older adults just looked happy that the smallest cub got himself a loving mate, many of the younger adults were clearly struggling with the fact that the runt they bullied for so long actually fucks.

[deunmiu-dessie]

ⅸ▬ ⁽ 𝑔𝑜𝒷𝓁𝒾𝓃𝓈 ⁾

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₂˖₇ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : unedited, short, gangbang (??), NSFW,  explicit content, teratophilia, goblin/human, unprotected sex, creampie, overstimulation, dubcon, rape/noncon elements, sloppy writing, rushed.

૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა ʳᵃʷʳ ⁿᵒᵗᵉˢ : this is literally the shortest one-shot in the entire monster fucker series of mine, and that's because it's rushed. i didn't feel like adding plot at all either. but hey, if it got my coochie wet, it should get your coochie wet. ( feeding ya'll so you guys don't starve waiting on the dragon one-shot )

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎: after the death of your brother, it's now your sole duty to provide for you and your mom--- but the woods can be a very scary place.

꒰male!goblins₊⊹ afab!reader꒱

"𝑀other! I'm leaving! "

Silence draped itself over the house, as if time itself had come to a halt. Your mother's voice remained absent, and the absence of anyone bidding you farewell left you with a heavy heart. A gentle sigh escaped your lips and with a tender touch, you closed the weathered wooden door, shouldering the weight of the knapsack upon your back. As your eyes met the foreboding darkness that veiled the forest, a disconcerting feeling settled within the depths of your chest.

In the absence of your brother, who had always been the pillar of support for both of you, you found yourself embracing the role of a caretaker. Your mother, overwhelmed with grief, was unable to fulfill the basic necessities of sustenance and safety. She remained motionless on the bed, her tears flowing ceaselessly, as the days and nights blended together. It was now your turn to rise above the despair and take charge, to bring solace and stability.

With a firm grip on the handle of your short dagger, you fortified your nerves and ventured into the gloomy forest, your knife clenched tightly in a state of restless eagerness. Although the weight of your backpack was as light as a feather, it bore down upon you like an immense burden. Swiftly pivoting, you remained on high alert, ensuring your guard was steadfastly upheld.

Into the heart of the sprawling forest you ventured, your footsteps dancing upon the moss-covered ground, carrying you further away from the gentle glow that had guided your way. The once comforting sense of security dissipated like morning mist, leaving you engulfed in an eerie darkness. The comforting sense of security that had embraced you earlier now vanished into thin air. 

  The path you had treaded upon vanished, leaving no trace of retreat, yet your determination remained unwavering. You pressed on, driven by the desire to reach the berries nestled amidst the dense foliage, and then eventually find your way back home.

As you ventured deeper into the woods, your brother's words echoed in your mind like a haunting melody. He warned you about the goblins, elusive creatures that supposedly roamed the shadows, waiting for unsuspecting intruders to cross into their domain. Despite the ominous tales, he assured you that they were harmless. The image of a goblin, with its peculiar shade of green and diminutive stature, danced in your imagination. How strange it was to think that such creatures existed in the same world as you, yet remained hidden from your sight.

Ever watchful, your gaze remained fixated upon the intricate engravings adorning the tree trunks. A circular insignia defiantly marked with a decisive strike, served as your guiding beacon. Hopeful, you pressed on, faithfully tracing the trail laid before you. 

As the gentle breeze whispered through the foliage, a symphony of rustling leaves enveloped the air. Time seemed to slow down as you cautiously pivoted toward the bush, your trembling hands betraying your anxious state. A surge of adrenaline coursed through your veins, igniting your nerves like a blazing inferno. 

 Suddenly, a deep growl pierced the tranquility, resonating through the very core of your being. Despite the weapon clutched tightly in your grasp, an inexplicable terror seized your heart, threatening to consume your every thought. In an instant, instinct took over, propelling you to turn swiftly and flee, your nimble form weaving through the dense forest, effortlessly evading the entangling vines and treacherous rocks that dared to impede your escape.

You're unsure of how long you've been running but the searing pain in your lungs prompted you to slow your pace, seeking refuge by leaning against a sturdy tree. Your hand brushed against a peculiar marking, distinct from the familiar circle with a slash. You look up quickly, this time, an imposing 'X' catches your eye, accompanied by a haunting message etched jaggedly below: 'go back'. A shiver runs down your spine as the unsettling awareness of being observed, hunted even, envelopes you.

In a moment of desperation, you tightly shut your eyes, as if trying to shield yourself from the malevolent forces that surrounded you and pray. Whispers of wicked laughter dance through the air, reverberating within the depths of the expansive forest. With a quick swivel, you scan your surroundings, hoping to catch a glimpse of any flicker of life amidst the shadows.

   Suddenly, a jolt of pain shot through your body, causing you to gasp. Your eyes widened as you felt a sharp object pierce your ankle, momentarily stealing your breath away. In a reflexive response, you released your grip on the dagger, allowing it to fall to the forest floor. Bending down, you gingerly extracted the needle-like object.

 Yet, as if a veil of mist had descended upon your eyes, your once clear vision became hazy and indistinct. With a determined shake of your head, you attempted to dispel the fog that had insidiously infiltrated your thoughts. Grasping the dagger once more, you struggled to regain your balance, stumbling clumsily as you rose to your full stature.

Alas, the forest floor seemed to twist and twirl in a dizzying dance before your eyes, causing you to succumb to its disorienting spell. In a sudden and unexpected motion, you found yourself sprawled on the ground, the knife slipping from your grasp and soaring away from your reach.

As the atmosphere grew thick with sinister chuckles, it became evident that you had unwittingly stumbled into the realm of the mischievous Goblins. Overwhelmed by frustration, tears of despair trickled down your cheeks, while your determination urged you to inch closer to the gleaming blade.

Suddenly, a force seized your trembling leg, causing you to cry out in fear. Frantically, you thrashed about, employing erratic kicks in a desperate bid to dislodge the mysterious grip.

 It seemed that whatever the Goblins had put on that needle was finally kicking in. Gradually, your valiant resistance waned, your feeble attempts to resist their hold proving futile. A haunting laughter reverberated near your ear, causing you to cautiously shift your gaze towards the sound, tears streaming down your face as you found yourself ensnared by the gaze of large black eyes.

Abruptly, the creature's mouth parted, emitting a series of chitters that harmonized with the surrounding Goblins, creating an otherworldly symphony of communication. You plead with them, your tears cascading down your face and finding solace in the crevices of your hairline. The Goblin closest to you inches forward, its head tilting inquisitively, while its its gaze fixated on the shimmering trails of tears.

The soft murmur of their conversation is the sole sound that penetrates the deafening thump of your heartbeat. You have no clue what they're saying but the delicate caress of a hand on your cheek offers solace as it brushes away the tears that stream down your face.

In total, it appears that there are four figures surrounding you, two positioned near your feet and one on either side. Despite the fact that they are armed, they exhibit a sense of nonchalance, keeping their weapons idle by their sides.

As you begin to relax a bit, a glimmer of hope flickers within you, and you that they perceive you as harmless and decide to leave you here. A gentle warmth caresses your cheek, prompting you to slowly turn towards its source, only to recoil in fear at the looming presence of the monstrous being.

Its mouth, without warning, descends upon yours, planting a sloppy kiss that catches you off guard. Your eyes widen in shock, and you instinctively attempt to pull away, tears welling up in your eyes.

As if in a surreal reverie, a slimy appendage gently prods against your quivering lips, the creature displaying an unsettling indifference toward your futile resistance. Abruptly, a hand gropes your breast, its jagged nails tearing through the delicate fabric.

A gasp escapes your lips, mingling with the invasive kiss, and the intruder's long and thick tongue slides down your throat effortlessly. Paradoxically, this unwelcome intrusion only serves to ignite a fierce determination within you, intensifying your struggle against its grip.

  Like a peculiar elixir, the mingling of the goblins' sweet saliva and your own descends upon your flushed cheeks. In that fleeting moment, you relinquish your futile attempts to escape their clutches. Your limbs refuse to obey your commands, and you find yourself overwhelmed by their sheer numbers. After all, if their intention was to end your life, they could easily do so, just like they had done to your brother.

 Amidst the haze that clouds your sight, you find solace in the notion that this situation could have been far more dreadful. This kiss, though not your first, stands out among the many others you've experienced from the boys in the village who seem to always disregard your lack of consent. Hell, it might be the drug affecting your thoughts, or perhaps it's the overwhelmingly sweet taste of its saliva, but you don't particularly object to your current state.

 Your eyes pop open at the sound of your bindings being ripped, exposing your breasts to the crisp breeze. Your nipples perk up and harden, as if beckoning one of the mischievous creatures to come and taste. Your thighs clench, clit pulsing as a hot mouth descends around your areola, suckling strongly, teeth delicately grazing your tender skin.

A wave of pleasure crashes over you, your moans escape into the Goblin's mouth. Your eyes remain shut, lost in a world where only the sensations matter. The impish creature, with clumsy hands, explores your other breast, teasing and coaxing your nipple. 

  You realize briefly how aroused you are, how slippery your cunt is ( so much so that it��s almost uncomfortable) and your cheeks flush in embarrassment. It's a secret that you'll hold dear forever, how these monstrous beings awaken a desire within you that far surpasses anything that men from your village could ever offer.

Riiiip

You quickly break away from the kiss, gasping for air, only to find yourself staring at the two Goblins by your feet. Your pants are torn, the hasty stitching coming undone effortlessly. Your knickers, worn and slightly tattered, had not been replaced in some time, but you always made sure to keep them thoroughly clean. 

  Your head is turned back, and before you can react, those lips are on yours once more. Your heart races as you feel your knickers being tugged down your thighs, your legs pushed up, exposing your dripping cunt.

Your pussy quivers as a rough tongue swipes across the expanse of your slit. It has you grinding wantonly against its eager mouth shamefully. The Goblin seems to like the way you taste because it grabs your thighs and heaves them over its small shoulders, burying its face deeper into your cunt, lapping excessively and for a moment you're seeing stars.

You arch your back, offering yourself up to its insistent mouth, lost in a haze of bliss. It devours you with a fervor that leaves you breathless, each lick sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. At that moment, nothing else exists but the overwhelming sensation of being consumed by pure, unadulterated lust.

Your eyes flutter closed, and the relentless flick of its coarse tongue against your throbbing clit makes you pulse needly. The kiss stops momentarily and you take that time to breathe deeply, chest heaving as the other Goblins take their time suckling on your breast and eating you out. 

A wet sensation brushes against your lips, prompting you to extend your tongue and savor the warm, bittersweet taste. With a soft moan escaping your lips, you gaze upwards, feeling your cheeks flush at the sight of the Goblin's cock hovering above your mouth.

The girth is thick but it's not long, a good 4 inches at best. Slowly, it guides itself into your hot mouth, and you savor the intoxicating sweetness of its precum on your eager tastebuds. You obediently bob your head, your cheeks growing even hotter as the Goblin's hands entwine in your hair, dictating the rhythm at its own whims.

  A surge of electricity courses through your hips as your clit is slurped on harshly, your eagerness taking over as you gyrate your hips with increasing fervor against the skilled tongue, craving more of its enthralling touch. The sudden, forceful thrust of the other Goblin’s cock down your throat elicits a mixture of sensations, from a deep gag to an overwhelming sense of pleasure and your legs tremble uncontrollably, wrapping around the Goblin's head, as you cum with a soft, high-pitched moan.

With a hint of jealousy, the other one shoves the Goblin away and eagerly plunges his tongue into your throbbing core, chittering at the taste of you. You find yourself utterly vulnerable, incapable of reaching down to push his head away, cunt sensitive and pulsing.

  You suddenly heave as its cock hits the back of your throat, bittersweet thick, sticky cum shooting into your mouth. You gulp it down, the viscosity coating your tongue as you eagerly suck on the bulbous tip to get every last drop of it. The Goblin lets out a guttural moan before pulling away, collapsing onto the lush greenery.

 A gentle breeze caresses your sensitive nipples as the other mischievous Goblin frees them from its warm mouth, straddling your stomach and pressing your breasts together, sliding its cock in between the valley and thrusting. Your lips part, eagerly enveloping the swollen tip as it reaches your mouth.

The Goblin that had decided to eat you out first had maneuvered itself to your head. With a perverted gaze, it pleasures itself, mesmerized by the sight of its tribe member's pulsating cock disappearing into the velvety embrace of your breasts and then past your fleshy lips.

 You let out a squeal of surprise as a painful thickness pushes into you, tears immediately wetting your cheeks at the discomfort. You attempt to move your hips back, trying to get away from the intruding cock. The goblin grabbed the fat of your hips, anchoring itself. Its clumsy fingers dance over your clit, soothing the ache with each teasing stroke. Pushing in until its small balls rest against your plump ass.

  And as soon as it noticed your body relaxing, it began to thrust, its head thrown back in wicked laughter, before glancing downwards, captivated by the sight of its green cock disappearing inside you, marveling at how tight your pussy was gripping him. Oblivious to its actions, the Goblin intensified its circular caresses on your clit, overstimulating your bundle of nerves. You cried out, cunt spasming and quivering around its cock, you came once more– leaving a pearlescent ring of cream around the base of him.

The mischievous creature nestled between your breasts finally cums, tiny hips faltering as its seed trickles down your chin and breasts. Succumbing to temptation, you welcome the tip into your mouth, savoring every last drop of. Its taste was nothing short of addictive.

A thick warmth fills your cunt, coating your gummy walls in a sticky fluid. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, you feel so full and sated. The weight of the two Goblins pressed against your skin, sends a shiver down your spine. Darkness creeps in, but you welcome it, too lost in the moment to care, and whatever they gave you hadn't worn off yet.

The moment your eyes fluttered open, a blanket of darkness surrounded you, the gentle chirping of crickets filling your ears and the icy touch of the night air jolting you awake. Sitting upright, you realized you were situated at the forest's edge, your cozy dwelling just a short distance away. 

Gradually adjusting to the lack of light, you discovered an array of food spread out before you, your hunger pangs intensifying as your stomach rumbled. Without hesitation, you indulged in the succulent berries, pondering whether it was all a mere dream. However, the lingering sensation of the cold breeze caressing your exposed nipples and the stickiness clinging to your thighs contradicted that notion. 

Gathering as much food as you could carry, you stood up and made a swift exit, calling out for your mother. You looked behind you, the feeling of being watched overwhelming. Tomorrow, you vowed to return and express your gratitude to those unseen eyes.

[cobragardens]

Self-Therapy in the Form of an Open Letter to Neil Gaiman and My Fellow Ineffables

Dear Ineffables, and Dear @neil-gaiman

I want to talk about Good Omens for a sec, ok? You are not obligated to listen! But if you want to listen, I have a Thing I need to say. And it's important to me and I have a Tumblr, so you can see where this is headed.

I know Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship, book and show, is primarily about the absurdity and tragedy and miraculousness and contagiousness of being human. I know it's about wanting friendship and cake instead of victory and ashes, and I love that. I know it did not start out as an intentionally or unequivocally queer story, and I know that neither the queerness nor the Christianity is the main theme of S1 or the book. And I think those are all good things: one of the big strengths that makes Good Omens so remarkable and so charming is its lightness of touch.

But Crowley did not start out as a demon, and Aziraphale did not start out as a butter-smooth liar, and they are neither of them the angel the other knew, and there are reasons for that. And S2 starts discussing those reasons, and now Crowley and Aziraphale have shared a very human kiss and have started a more overt phase of their ongoing conversation about what they are to each other. So one of the things we need to talk about is what it’s like to love the wrong person in a world like the world of Good Omens.

And I feel like I have some (very small) amount of expertise in this field. I do not have the skill as a writer to tell you what that was like to grow up Christian and deeply in love with my (also female) best friend in Colorado Springs, Colorado, the evangelical Christian Mecca of the United States. But I did it--or, rather, it happened to me--so I'm the person who has to write about it now.

It was Before Ellen. Homosexual sex was against the law in around half of U.S. states. Only one state (Rhode Island, which I am not convinced actually exists) had a law prohibiting discrimination against LGB people in housing, services, or employment. One U.S. state—my state, Colorado—amended its state constitution to prohibit prohibiting discrimination. Same-sex marriage did not exist. Same-sex couples could not adopt children. Being any flavor of queer could cost you custody in family court of any children you did have.

Queer young-adult novels did not exist. Movies and tv shows with queer characters did not exist unless they were serial killers or dying of AIDS. Safe-sex education did not exist, the LGBTQ section of the bookstore did not exist. Social media did not exist, the Internet was in its infancy (I was typing up papers in AppleWorks on an Apple IIe), smartphones did not exist. Porn was in magazines your friend’s older brother or uncle kept under his mattress.

The guy everybody in school thought was gay got beat up daily. The girls I'm not sure about. I only ever saw two girls/women who were out before I was 28 and met an openly lesbian woman in a university class.

In Colorado Springs, bumper stickers for Colorado for Family Values and Focus on the Family, both headquartered in the city, were common. Crosses and ichthys decals proliferated. There were only a few “God made Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve” stickers, but “Marriage = One Man + One Woman," or the same message in Ladies and Gents toilets symbols (with a pair of ladies and a pair of gents crossed out) were a regular sight on the backs of cars every day, every drive, my whole life there.

This was a world where there was one very specific God, who has one very rigid Plan, and whose Agents and Enemies fight each other for the eternal souls of every human being. And every player on the board was clear about this.

I was 12 when my dad and I met two women on a hiking trail and, after we all said hello and they three had chatted a bit and the women had walked on, he asked me if I had "gotten any spiritual witness about them." He told me he suspected they were lesbians.

I was 14 when I burst into tears and shouted at my dad when he spoke viciously of the two gay men who had come into his place of work earlier in the day. He called them “flaming” and “faggots.” I told him we were Christians and we were not hateful about people in that way. I didn’t know what the word faggot meant, not for sure (I picked up the meaning of flaming from his imitations), but I could tell it meant they were people who did awful things, and that he hated them.

I had never seen my dad like that before, hating someone. I had never heard him speak that way about anyone.

I was 16 when I rode in the back seat of our next-door neighbors’ Ford Focus on the way to Bible study and listened to the handsome Christian newlyweds up front discuss how awful it was that gay and lesbian couples were now allowed to adopt children in the state of New Jersey. It was bad, they said, that children could find homes with queer people “because children learn from their parents.”

I was 17 when 2 straight men beat and tortured Matthew Shepard and left him tied to a split-rail fence on the side of a road 3 hours north of Colorado Springs as a warning to the rest of us. A scarequeer.

A joke in poor taste, you may feel, this little pun. It is a pun, but it's not a joke.

One of Shepard’s murderers used the gay panic defense in court. In the U.S. the gay panic defense is one of reduced responsibility: a man cannot be held fully legally responsible for murdering another man if he claims he thought his victim was gay and making a pass at him. Because, under U.S. law, it is considered common for men to go temporarily insane and murder men they think may be gay and making a pass at them. I have rewritten this paragraph five times and that is the absolute least bananas I can make this sound. It is real and it is still a thing.

I was also 17 when Pastor Luis, the head of my church, preached in sermon about a member of the congregation who had fallen in love with another woman. He told us firmly: "She is no longer a lady. She is a lesbian."

He refused to counsel or marry them, services he insisted upon performing for the heterosexual couples among his congregants. He said he told the woman and her fiancee that they and their sin were not welcome in his house of God. He told us, the ones left, that we were not to contact the ejected woman or continue any friendships with her.

It was a small church, only about 60 people. Pastor Luis looked right into my eyes and held the eye contact with me (other peoole turned to look) when he said, "And if you don't agree with that, you are not welcome here either. You can leave now and never come back."

I did. For 10 years after that, I thought God had told Pastor Luis about me. That Pastor Luis had gotten the same "spiritual witness" off me that my dad had gotten off the 2 women we met backpacking. That he somehow knew—that any Christian might know if they listened, if they sniffed carefully enough. The smell of evil, I thought, must linger on me.

I was 18 when I got my first tattoo. My parents were relieved when I told them that’s all it was. "We thought you were going to tell us you were pregnant, or gay," they said.

I was 19 when a trans woman at a coffee shop told me about how she'd been fired as a substitute teacher from the biggest school district in the state. She didn't pass, so she dressed as a man when working. One day she made the mistake of wearing a women's button-down shirt (with the buttons on the left, not the right), and someone noticed and complained.

I was also 19 when my boyfriend's parents became concerned that he might be gay. (He had gotten his ears pierced and dyed his clipper cut pink while away at college.) As Christians his parents were against premarital sexual activity of any kind, including masturbation or sexual desire, so my bf couldn’t tell them how he knew he wasn’t gay, and for over a year they wouldn’t believe him. His mother bought some books from Family Christian Booksellers, the biggest Christian publisher in the U.S., about how as a Christian she should respond to her child’s queerness.

Throw them out, cut them off, and do everything you can to make sure your child starves and suffers, said the books. (I read them all.) Hunger and homelessness were the goal, they advised, but any misery you could cause was helpful. Turn other relatives against them, don't let them take their belongings when they go, cancel phone contracts and insurance plans.

When your child asks for help because they can't support themselves, you can force them to leave their beloved and drop their friends in exchange for survival, said the books. They will either eventually see that you and God are right and loving, and repent of their sin, or you will catch them lying to you and sneaking around, which is proof that homosexuality and other sins go hand in hand.

One book acknowledged that cutting them off would endanger teenagers and young adults and leave them vulnerable to rape, murder, and human trafficking (though it called being trafficked "prostitution"). But Christian parents acting in the name of God's love would not be responsible for the harm their kids suffered, it said: the children were bringing whatever happened to them on themselves as a natural consequence of living a sinful lifestyle.

In fact, said the book, being attacked or abused could be good for your children: if they suffer enough they may realize it’s their gayness that has caused all their problems and repent of their disgusting unacceptable love and desire.

In the United States, LGBT children represent 40% of homeless youth under 18. "Family conflict" is the number-one cause of LGBT youth homelessness.

I was 22 when the pastor of my boyfriend’s church received news that one of his congregants was engaged in a same-sex affair. Extramarital affairs were very common in his church—three of the deacons were cheating on their wives with other (also married) congregants, and my bf’s parents had been swingers —but this was the first and only time the pastor ever called a church member to the altar, outed him by described his sin to the congregation (c. 350), and demanded the man apologize to everyone and ask their forgiveness. The pastor told him that if he did not apologize he and his wife and children were not welcome to continue attending.

I was 23 when I heard that same pastor’s sermon on avoiding sexual temptation. Give up affection if it causes you to sin, he said. Scoop out your own eyes, cut off your own hand. He instructed men only to hug other men side-along, one arm around their shoulders, lest a real embrace cause them to feel sexual desire for another man. (No mention was made about how women should hug, or that women might ever feel sexual desire at all.)

I remember listening to this pastor's sermon and thinking, I know something about this man that he does not know about himself.

I was 24 when I went with my boyfriend to Pulpit Rock Church, seeking answers from the sermon they advertised on their signboard about sex and sexuality and gender. My boyfriend loved wearing women's clothes. Transgender and cross-dressing were just starting to replace transsexual and transvestite as the accepted terms for the things he might be. Nonbinary and genderqueer were not words we had. He wasn’t sure yet which thing he was; the thing he was was still, for us, unspeakable.

"Men are created to be men and women are created to be women," preached the pastor at Pulpit Rock. "Men and women are different in a way that can't be explained, and they fit together in a relationship in a divine way. A man and a man or a woman and a woman may love each other, but they'll never have the spiritual connection of a godly relationship that a man and a woman can have. We don't have to understand it, but we shouldn't question it, because that’s the way God made it."

Then he talked about how he and his wife could both make French toast (or maybe it was pancakes), but the way his wife made French toast was female somehow--ineffably--because she was a woman, even though the French toast was the same. My bf and I left in the middle of the sermon.

I was 25 when Ted Haggard, best friend of Focus on the Family founder James Dobson (of “Spongebob is teaching our kids it's ok to be gay” controversy) and pal of George W. Bush (the POTUS who pursued, in his own words, "a Crusade" in Iraq with the U.S. military to fight the influence of demons "Gog and Magog[…] at work in the Middle East"), was publicly outed. Male escort and Mike Jones—whom Haggard hired to sell him meth and give him happy-ending massages—recognized ‘Pastor Ted’ as the leader of Colorado Springs evangelical megachurch New Life Church, a nationally famous preacher who denounced the evils of homosexuality from his pulpit, and Jones, a big damn hero, tipped off the press.

I had heard Pastor Ted preach twice. New Life Church was a lot like Heaven in Show Omens in that it had a lot of open space and bright fluorescent lighting and smiling well-groomed people in it, as well as several giant digital screens floating in the air to either side of its dais on which the face of the straight-passing white man bringing his people the word of God was projected as he spoke. This latter feature also resulted in a slight resemblance to a Hitler rally, but there was more medium-stained oak in play than either Hitler or Heaven would find tasteful.

I was 26 when I acted as an informal lettings agent for one of my landlord's other apartments and the young Christian woman living downstairs asked me refuse shelter to any gay or lesbian people because she didn't want to have to live in the same building with them.

When I asked her how I was supposed to know whether someone was gay, she said, “Well you can just tell, can’t you?”

I was 30 when I came out to my Christian parents. Having read the Christian parenting books, I was hugely relieved when they didn't throw me out of their house, where I was living after college (and a few major depressive episodes and two global recessions). I was relieved that they wanted to continue to have a relationship with me at all, in fact.

"I still think it's a sin, though," my mother gently reminded me. My father has refused ever to discuss it at all.

I was 31 when I moved to the UK. I've spent 11 years trying and failing to scrape a living in the Thatcher-hollowed market towns around Manchester, under the fucking Tories, through fucking Brexit, through fucking May and fucking Boris and that weird little cabbage Liz Truss, in order to stay out of Colorado Springs. I can't get medical care on the NHS and I can't work or leave my apartment bc I can't get medical care and I can't heat my apartment in winter on Universal Credit and I’ve been threatened and assaulted by doctors and raped by a nurse and I’ve tried suicide a few times, and I'm in some smallish danger of dying here in Britain's left armpit, but I am not in Colorado fucking Springs today, am I. So that's something at least.

I was 41 and living in the UK for a decade when a homophobe with Christian parents shot up the only gay venue in Colorado Springs, Club Q, murdering 5 people and shooting 19 more. I'd been to Club Q a few times, on dead nights, when I lived in the city. The shooting was 24 years after homophobes tied Matthew Shepard to a fence and left him dying as a warning to the rest of us.

I never told my best friend I was in love with her.

Instead I had anxiety dreams in which my subconscious warned me I wasn't safe. In one dream, Not Yet appeared tattooed on the back of my hand as I looked at a female classmate who was dating another girl. I had to wear gloves to hide the rainbow that had appeared, indelible, on my ring finger.

My first kiss was with a (Christian) boy.

I knew what I felt for my best friend was effervescent and golden and breath-stealing. I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, knew I wanted to live with her in a little house in the Pacific Northwest in the mist and the trees and make her coffee with a Turkish press anytime she wanted it and cuddle her on the closed porch and gripe about the wool in her sweater prickling my arms when I hugged her. I knew her eyelashes made her eyes look like they had stars in them and that she had the lushest curves and most perfect skin I had ever seen, and that when she smiled or laughed the shape of her mouth made something in me ache like tuning forks must ache when they're struck and made to sing.

I never told my best friend I was in love with her because I didn't know those were the words for what I was feeling.

Not until years later, after she had left my life. I had been told (frequently) by a Higher Authority that queer love was disgusting and ruinous and sinful and ugly and twisted and inferior, not this perfect fragile thing as soft and trembling-alive as a bird in my hands. Why would I think this was queer love?

I didn't catch the worst of it. I wasn't chained to a bed or forced to drink water from a dog dish, like the foster parents of the gay kid in class did to him. (The school asked him to give a talk to our class so they'd bully him less, so he told us about his life as the teachers looked on. He was 12.) I wasn't sent to conversion therapy like one classmate. I didn't spend most of my childhood in Bible School like other devout Christians' children; my family read the Bible a lot, and prayed together, but my parents weren't regular churchgoers. I was so, so lucky.

It destroyed me anyway.

The thesis of my essay runs thus, fellow ineffables: A happy ending for Crowley and Aziraphale is necessary.

It is necessary not just because Bury Your Gays is an overdone trope and an act of homophobia in the hands of straight writers; not just because Good Omens has been crafted with such loving care in both book and show incarnations to be optimistic, even sunny, against a backdrop of Orwellian, cosmic, and Kafka-esque horror; not just because casting miracles of the magnitude of David Tennant as Crowley and Michael Sheen as Aziraphale happen once a generation and it would be a shame and a waste not to write more magic for them to chew on; it is necessary because, in most places here in Shitworld, there are real people having the experience Crowley and Aziraphale are having, and not all of us are able to make happy endings for ourselves.

We don't have ethereal/occult powers or authorial control, so we need stories to show us how to love and when to fight and why to fucking bother. And the harder those things are to see in this world, the more we need those stories. And the more we need people with influence and audience and privilege telling them, not just all us little Tumblr rats and AO3 and Pillowfort perverts.

Crowley and Aziraphale exist in a fascist universe run by the ultimate Authoritarian—not Big Brother, but Big Father. There is nowhere for them to go, not even their own minds, where it is safe for them to love each other openly. I am completely prepared to believe someone in those circumstances could go 6,000 years without realizing the love they feel for their best friend is the kissing kind of love. I know someone can go a whole lifetime without saying it.

The hosts of Heaven and Hell will take away even the words for love when they can. We need people who don't just wield words but the power of the word spreading the message "There is a way to make this work. There is a way to exist. You can make a new world."

Mr Gaiman, I know from reading some of your other work that a big part of your whole Deal as a writer is an ongoing enthusiasm for the immense, even mystical, power stories have to shape individual and shared realities—sometimes to doom people and lock them into a destiny, but as often to let them escape their fate by imagining and conceiving a new way of living, or of living with each other, where none was possible before.

Hate and hope are the result of the stories we tell each other--I know you know this because I know you know that in saying it I am referencing a story you wrote. Like the hate, that hope only exists if an author says it does. And real people’s hearts, real people’s lives, are made and broken by listening to the wrong stories or hearing the right ones.

Crowley and Aziraphale are your characters, and Good Omens is your story to tell. You have written a setup in which, if you want these characters to be able to love each other, you (they) will have to create a world where that is possible. Please write us a romance. Please put enough sweet in with the bitter that we can survive it.

We have such faith in you because you have shown your readers and your audiences that you deserve that faith. Please choose your phrases wisely. ❤️

[intergalacticaquarium]

Just saw somebody say that Eddie obviously gets ass bc we all want to fuck him and I'm just gonna say I don't think that rural Indiana in 1986 had a concept of the poor little meow meow yet

[vesprynna]

She had never seen Pike cry before, but the anger and sorrow reflecting in his eyes were almost too much to bear. The weight of his body pressed against hers, and Ala pushed back.

“No, Pike! You can’t go down there! You’ll get yourself killed!” she cried in protest, and after a few seconds his fight died down. He knew as well as she that there was nothing they could do to stop the inferno the dragon had unleashed on his home. How would a simple goblin and a young woman armed with a knife fight a dragon anyway?

So these are some new OCs named Ala and Pike in a mostly made up scenario I came up with while working on their story! They’re from the same universe as Calatar and Iva. Pike and Ala met after her village was attacked and raided by a false goblin king with the help of the rest of Pike’s clan.

Being the headstrong woman she is, Ala offers herself as a sacrifice to protect her family and home. Luckily, not all goblins are evil and she and a goblin named Pike grow quite fond of each other. Together they hatch a plan to free Ala, his people and the other prisoners. Little do they realize that the false goblin king is only the pawn of a more formidable foe than either of them excpected...

Ala is also Iva’s not so distant ancestor, so Iva may not be as human as she seems if Ala and Pike get their happily ever after, if you know what I’m sayin’... :] ✨🌸 Ko-Fi || Instagram || Twitter 🌸 ✨

[monster-disaster]

I wish I had some good ideas to help you spark your inspiration! 🥺 The only halfway decent idea I got is a Monster (preferably Goblin) with a cat that always escapes/sneaks off to the neighbor and thus plays matchmaker, despite both of them telling themselves they don't want a relationship atm. 😄 It's ok if you won't write it! 💗 Have a good day!

Hello! Thank you for the request! It was a cute idea! :D goblin x reader warnings: none

The first rays of the sun stretch across the city skyline, casting a golden glow over the streets and swiping away the darkness with ease. The buildings stand tall and proud under the gentle hue of the globe peeking out behind the horizon, their silhouettes cutting sharp against the brightening sky. Below, the streets are already coming to life. The chatter of the people on the sidewalks mixes with the constant sounds of the traffic. Cars weave in and out of lanes with tempered impatience, their headlights twinkling. Their honking punctuates the chilly morning air.

Ut's steps are heavy on the metal stairs. It rattles under his black boots as he makes his way down to your floor. The goblin's chest is already filled with annoyance. A silent snarl contorts his face.

Crouching down in front of your window, he stays still for a long second. His jeans are too tight for such a movement, but he doesn't care about it. His big eyes find you easily, standing at the counter and putting a disgusting amount of sugar into your coffee. Your hair is a mess, and you are still wearing your pajamas. An old shirt hides the curves of your body, but the shorts hug your ass tightly. Perfectly.

Ut has to force himself to knock on your window before you notice him. The sudden sound of his knuckles on the clean glass makes you jump. The mug almost falls from your hands as your head snaps his way. "Where is my cat?" He asks before you can do anything. His voice is muffled because of the closed window. He opens his palms questioningly. The golden rings glint on his long fingers as he waits for your answer. A frown pulls on your brows, and you purse your lips in annoyance. You can't believe this male. "What do you want?" You snap at him when you open your window. Your mug is still in your hand, warming your fingers. "Where is my cat?" He asks again, looking around your small kitchen from the fire escape. His big eyes scan your small space, searching for the animal. "How should I know?" You ask him. "He didn't come over this morning." Your attention turns to the untouched bowl on the counter, not far from the window. It's still filled with cat food. Ut groans. "I told you don't feed him." Your shrug. "He comes over even when I don't feed him." Yeah, the goblin has some doubts about it.

Silence settles between you two while traffic still filters through your window. A dog barks somehwere far. Its voice echoes off the buildings.

And slowly, panic finds its way into your chests.

"Where is he, Ut?" You ask him, eyes wide. "Where is our cat?" The male grunts. "My cat," he corrects you. His long ears twitch and flatten against the sides of his head. Turning his back to you, he looks down the alley below, searching for the familiar gray fur or any movement around the trash cans. Their foul smell fills his nostrils. "Go and look around on the streets," you tell him hurriedly. "I go over to the neighbors." He wants to snarl at you for ordering him but stays quiet instead. His cat is not capable of living on the streets. He is allergic and so fucking lazy. There is no way he chose the streets instead of eating at your house. "Fine," he grunts.

When you leave your apartment, you can still hear the metallic rattle of the fire escape as Ut runs down on it.

You are not sure how much time you spend going from door to door, disturbing your neighbors' morning and trying to hide your growing panic after every "I didn't see him" and "I'm sorry".

And Ut isn't doing better either, hurrying along the streets and snarling at people who look at him funnily. By the time he reaches the bottom of the fire escape, his phone is already in his hand, looking for the phone numbers of the nearby shelters.

"Ut!" Your voice comes from above him. When he looks up, you stand on the metal platform on your apartment's floor. You lean over the railing with a gray fluff in your arms. You are still in your pajamas with a mess of hair, but there is a huge smile on your face.

"Fuck," Ut grunts as the air leaves his lungs with relief. He runs up the stairs. His lean legs jump the steps easily until he stands in front of you, reaching out to get his cat from your secure hold. "Where did you find him?" He asks. His long fingers rake through the soft fur as the small animal snuggles under his jaw. You shrug. "When I got home, his bowl was empty, and he was asleep on my bed." "Of course," he hums. Lazy. When his happiness dies down, he starts to feel awkward. He is still on the fire escape with you. Even though his cat has spent most of his morning with you for at least three months now, he never talked to you more than a few sentences. His ears twitch. "Well," Ut says. "Thanks." You hum, amused. "Come over tonight," he adds. "What?" You ask, surprised. One of your eyebrows moves up. "As a thank you," he tells you, already moving to go up to his apartment. "For finding my cat." A slow smirk pulls on your lips as you watch him slowly disappear at the turn of the stairs. "Our cat," you correct him.

You hear him snarl.

[alifetimeofgames]

Enclave

Look, all I'm saying is that if some evil sorceress needs your virgin blood to summon an ancient evil demon to conquer the world, then there's an easy and very funny way to stop her.

It's strange that Enclave isn't a bigger thing! It's cool, dark fantasy action with a simple but effective plot - why isn't it more popular, I wonder?

I especially like how you actually meet your characters during the game and unlock them naturally that way, and that you get to power them up so you can pick whichever you prefer to play. I also like the character designs - just look at Mordessa's early 2000's goth Digimon style she's got going on, I love it!

I never finished the evil campaign, though. My lich got stuck on a rock and I got so angry I quit. In retrospect, that's the funniest possible ending.

[angelltheninth]

Goblin Boyfriend Goes Into a Mating Frenzy

Pairing: Male!Goblin x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, creampie, breeding kink, height differance, mating season, gift giving, courting

A/N: Whoever decided goblins needed to be the bad guys does not know the appeal of short partners.

As horny as he is for you he'd rather settle for jerking off all day long then make a move before you accept him as your boyfriend

You've been fucking for a long time with no strings attatched but mating is different

Mating is special to his kind and he wants to do it right

Could just pump and dump if he didn't like you so much, yet you wormed your way into his heart

To win you over he visits every morning and brings you flowers, food, sweets and different types of bounties he's gotten over his years of fighting and work

Every morning you offer to take care of his hard cock that left a stain in the front of his pants and every morning he says no

For someone with such a high libito it's odd that he's refusing so much

"Can't gave sex with you yet. There are... things that you don't know about my kind. We breed like rabbits yes but such a time is special. One full month of non-stop sex, that's a lot for a human." His cheeks blush dark green while he sits on your bed, his feet kicking nervously. "I can't ask for that commitment from you until you accept me as your mate."

A full month of... oh. He wanted you to be his mate. That explains his weird behavior lately. The gifts suddenly have a lot more meaning than you first thought.

You suddenly felt like you were the one pressuring him. "I don't know if I could handle a full month if I'm being honest." His long ears dropped down, he nodded in understanding but stopped short of an apology when you cupped his cock, "But if you can keep yourself busy for a few days in-between I could give this my best shot." His ears perked back up immedietly and he grinned with a sharp smile.

"You would? Truly?" Hardly able to contain himself he launched his short, lanky body onto yours, landing face first into your tits. "I'll do my best then too, for you."

You exoected him to be rougher then normal but he wasn't, more impatient to get naked but he didn't treat you harshly

Couldn't stop hugging your thighs, using them to better shove his cock into your already creampied pussy

Never before has he made such deep, gutteral noises, his laugh getting louder every time he shot his cum into your womb with sopping, dirty fucking sounds

Due to his short height he had to cling onto you when you cuddled him sideways, telling him it was okay, to let it out, to use you like you wanted to be used

Made sure you were well fed but it was difficult to be apart, he had sex with you every time he came back from a hunt

Constantly hard so you offer him your mouth, ass and tits when your pussy needs rest

And when you need rest he does as you ask and jerks off instead

He keeps growling and snarling from the foot of the bed, his hand working his hard dick for the nth time that day. A full day of not fucking you. A full gods damn day.

"Can I? It feels so uncomfortable like this." His teeth grind against each other as your eyes meet his and you open your legs, pussy naked and wet from watching him all day. "Yes? Is that a yes from my mate?" He's been calling you that for days, almost as if he's forgotten your real name.

But as he approaches you push him away with your foot. "Sorry. You look cute when you're needy." The position of his ears tells you he did not take that as a compliment. "What? Don't you think our kids will be cute too?"

"K-kids... yes... I need to breed you and make you pregnant. Your womb will be full of my seed. It already is, you will give me lots of kids." He walks closer, cock leaking and pulsing. As he pushes it inside he leans down to press over your stomach. "My mate will look beautiful when she's pregnant. Won't you? Won't you?!"

You hug him close to yourself, so close to coming and this round just began. A human body wasn't made for so much sex but you were nothing if not a determined species. "Yes. You're gonna make me pregnant tonight, I can feel it. You're gonna be a dad soon, so please, keep taking care o- ah! Ye-yes! Fuck, just keep fucking me with your dick!" Perhaps you were going into a bit of a breeding frenzy too.

[holy-shit-comics]

[brocktonbay]

top 5 pact ships to get you canceled on tumblr.com

[woelfin-sheeps-clothing]

Just wrapped up this commission @frostsinth the other night. If you haven't checked out her work yet, go give it a look! I had an absolute blast drawing her OCs Nikostratus and Grier!