#monster replies

[idolomantises]

Okay so I’m not going to lie, part of why I haven’t been drawing Mara a lot is for three reasons:

1. She had an entire plotline planned that I ended up scrapping and redoing but that meant putting her in the backseat for a bit.

2. Im honestly afraid of drawing her 20 fallen angel partners I feel like I go a little insane even thinking about it. 20 characters with unique designs and outfits? No, I’m exploding in real life.

3. I’ve been slowly regretting making her a succubus. She was originally an Imp but I didn’t have a base idea for the imp design yet so I just went with a succubus but I’ve been wanting to add more demon characters that weren’t just succubi and hellhounds.

Unfortunately the way people treated the redesigns (specifically Domino’s where I had people messaging me for WEEKS to change it back), makes me kind of unsure if I wanna do a full species swap lmfao. Mara is very cute and I love her OG design, I just don’t want her to be another succubus, so it’s frustrating.

Damn. Remember when this webcomic was a hobby for me.

[inkskinned]

you know, you know. no gods, no masters, no kings on pedestals. everyone is fallible. death of the author. you know! you are balanced about your intake of media - you allow the wiggle room, the grace, the gratitude, the skepticism. nobody above criticism.

but still. a weird gut-punch feeling, something akin to betrayal. you read the article. surprise! an author you love is actually: a serial fucking predator.

well, shit. what now. no, you knew he was a person (all people are), but now you're wondering - what have i overlooked by accident? what messages have i internalized that are strange and cruel? and also, like, what the fuck?

his actions lay a thick glaze on top of everything. like each place is now ruined, opaque in a new way. but okay, fine, you've done this before. you knew better, right? you've been betrayed by many a cherished childhood author.

still, this stickiness. fuck. can you pick up that book again. will you read it to your children. you've recommended it to others - will you ever do that again? and of course, of course, no parasocial relationships. you were theoretically above this kind of sentiment. but the artist informs the art, right.

so it's not something as clear-cut as feeling he owed you, specifically (a stranger) better behavior - just that you kind of, in a distant and odd way... sort of trusted him to do better. it's not like a real trust or something speakable, just the faint hope that the product (good books) was a thin representation of the soul. now it feels like the product (good? books?) was a mask. in some small or insignificant way, your previous support of this person lent them power. your money and your time and your laughter.

and the thing is - you have this terrible, echoing sensation. how many times will this happen? over and over. you find out that the singer you love is actually a predator. you learn over drinks that your favorite high school english teacher is in jail for what he did to her. you listen to the news idly and suddenly discover that a woman you used to idolize has been abusing her kids for an actual eon.

what can you touch without the static melting off. you can't even really complain about it too much (you were supposed to know better, and besides, you don't want the same re-split "it's not your fault, love what you love" basic advice), but now it's here. somehow, it feels like - you let him into your life.

it's not that things need to be pure or an artist has to be like, endlessly perfect, mindful. demure. it's more just this terrible truth that has been replayed through your veins so often it feels criminally vain. power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely. did you want any one person to be worth that power?

it's just that he wrote books where he seemed to understand that. he seemed to know about hierarchies and unfair systems and bigotry and privilege. you thought they were books about what it means to struggle. you thought they were about having power and still using it for good rather than for control. he spooned you a narrative of being a good guy, a kind soul. you fucking bought what that fucking monster sold.

maybe that's why they were fantasies, after all.

[chloesimaginationthings]

i am not a very serious person

You know I feel like Michael Afton would be unphased being in the backrooms

[monstersholygrail]

Imagine being your clans chief eldest daughter, so you get send to a war meeting thats between your small village clan, and the different four big monster chiefs, who respectedly all fight against each other over who can claim your land.

But instead of standing your word and fight for your home, the others confuse you as a sign of surrender and you use as a cute fuck-and stresstoy all meeting long as they discuss who will earn what part of you land. Getting passes around from the big Orc chief, to the minotaur advocate, the big horned demon like politician and the forest creature clan eldest 🥺🥺

Coming home in shame, as their cum runs down your legs, and having to explain the obvious mating claim one of them had casted on you

Oh my goooooood. Fuck, I love this. You got me wiggling around in my seat fr.

I like how by the end of it, the land they ended up fighting for was reader haha. And they all had a momentary truce to make them get absolutely fucked out. I wonder who got the making claim tho?? And by extension, would that mean they ended up getting the land too?

What would be even funnier is if reader doesn’t know who put the mating claim on them. They just have a mating mark on their body. And all three monsters claim it’s them because they want reader bad.

So by the end up if it they kinda wind up having a Mama Mia situation on their hands.

[skelly-words]

Tentacles.. we have blue we have pink, what if one fucks our ass and the other our meow meow

(Bring your tentacles to work day request)

Ignore if u want but ILY and marry me 💍

I've been neglecting my account so bad, but you forgive me, right? <3<3<3

NSFW minors dni please

Anywayyyy, this is short, but I was thinking about using pink and blue at the same time. You're only supposed to bring the pink one to work. It cups your pussy so you can grind on the textured tendrils without making a mess of your office chair. But what's the harm in trying both?

It's the last step of your morning routine. Trying to fit the base of both tentacles in your ass at the same time is stretch, but the fat plugs are stuffed into place anyway. The slender blue appendage slips up and down your slit. The juices drooling from your cunt mix with the blue opalescence lubrication coating the tentacle. You watch with a whine as it stuffs itself inside you, writhing and wriggling to fit just right. It never stops moving like it can't get comfortable, and the constant twisting in your guts makes your legs a little weak.

Then the thick pink tentacle latches onto you. The lace of your panties covers it so neatly, almost looking modest when spit isn’t collecting at the corners of your lips. The little feelers bully your swollen clit, meanly pinching on the bud while you grab your purse and walk out the door.

It feels so good to have something to keep you full. Every bump on the bus ride fucks the squirming blue tentacle deeper. And you don't have to worry about your sloppy pussy leaving a gross mark on the seat.

The pink tentacle soaks you up so greedily, waiting for you to be ready to take its squishy little eggs. You have no idea how it's all gonna fit. The walk from the bus to your office building is short, and you make it to your desk before finding out. Your hips rock back and forth on the chair to rub the knot of pulsing blue into your g-spot. Little pink feelers tug at your clit. It's hard not to moan, and you have to bite on your palm to keep quiet.

You whimper as the sticky eggs get released, crammed into your cunt with the slender blue tentacle. Your poor hole is so stuffed full that you can hardly twitch and tighten when you cum. The pink tentacle pushes more and more eggs into you as the tiny tendrils clean up all your juices.

It stops after that, as if knowing not to overstimulate you too much. There's a long day ahead of you, so the little monsters are content to keep you stuffed up and grinding on the attentive feelers. Maybe the blue one will cum in you later, hopefully the eggs don't get fertilized 🤷‍♀️

And the best part is, still no mess.

These are so fun to write, like the perfect mix of silly and horny. I luv the support everyone is being so nice to me here

[arcadechan]

You know what would be amazing in your style? Vampire sucking the blood of her maiden 👀💕

ohhhh, when she gives you her neck for the first time...

[4ranghaes]

thinking about myungjae with reader who’s ovulating and i think we all agree that he can just keep going and going so it’s just like two rabbits going at each other for hours because you’re horny beyond repair and he’s up for anything

also paired with the scenario of you being angry at him beforehand because he’s just SO GODDAMN ATTRACTIVE and he’s literally just sitting there but it’s turning you on so he texts the group like ‘guys my girls mad at me do i kill myself?😔🥀’ and they’re all replying asking him questions and trying to give advice but he can’t reply – cause he figured out what was wrong with you after seeing your thighs rubbing together as you watched an interview of his on your phone – so now it’s 2 hours later and he’s under you as you continue to fuck yourself on his cock as he’s laying there, spent, wondering how long you can keep going

[c-rowlesdraws]

(Note: I’m writing this in good faith and not trying to come across confrontational)

Have u forgotten u can vote 3rd party? I know there will likely not be enough people voting independant party for a non red or blue president to be elected THIS voting cycle. But. If enough people vote independent maybe america will wake up and realize there are more than 2 shitty options. (It takes time to change, and change for the better)

Look the problem with the blue no matter who mindset is that these people know you are going to vote for them no matter what. Not because you necessarily like them but because at least they aren’t the other guy. Which gives dems absolutely no incentive to not be a piece of shit. Like do you get it? They will be awful and endorse genocides and all other terror because they know you will let them get away with it. Maybe biden isn’t as bad as a republican would have been but he is still pretty fucking bad. Personally, morally, I cannot in any way justify voting for him again.

voting for someone as damage control in an election does not mean you can't heckle the shit out of them once they are in office. You elect the officials you think you and groups you belong to have the better chance of pressuring into better policies, and who will do the least amount of damage in the meantime.

Democrats are relentless towards their elected officials-- at least the ones I know who are actually politically active are. They call, they protest, they campaign. Plus, as you're demonstrating, people on the left do not blindly vote (that's the other guys). It's totally unrealistic to say that elected Democratic officials just think they have an easy ride.

people can and should vote for whoever they want to in local elections, primaries, etc. But in the big one, the president one, the one in the fall, voting third party is like drawing up plans for a nice new extension on a house that is actively being set on fire. Voting for president is damage control. Voting is your hard-fucking-won civil right. Voting in smaller elections can also be damage control; when there is no-one to feel "good" about voting for, you vote for the less-worse one, because maybe that one is more receptive to the idea of climate change being real than the other one, and you can work with that.

Sometimes you get to vote for the option you align with the most. But sometimes voting is about picking the option with the cracks that you can dig your fingers into and pull open. Or at least the one who won't start taking a sledgehammer to civil rights and environmental protections (and, and) with all his buddies while you work to build support behind a candidate you can feel good about voting for in four years.

Biden has shown he can change his policies over time, with pressure. Democrats can be swayed in ways Republicans cannot. One major party can be pushed more left. The other one will drag us into a darkness that I don't even want to think about. The presidency is about so much more than just the individual sitting in the Oval Office.

Voting is strategic. It is strategic. It is not negative moral karma to vote strategically. It is one action amidst all the other actions you can take to fight for the future you want.

[etanow]

*hands Pomni a bouquet of orchids*

I know this won't change anything, but I hope it'll at least make you feel a little better.

<3

[sas-afras]

[img source: therealfedelta on twt]

SOMEHOW NOT EVIL? SOMEHOW NOT EVIL???

THE COFOUNDER OF THE SLAVING, RAPING, VIOLENT COLONIZER FACTION INGAME IS SOMEHOW NOT EVIL?

THE ONE WHO IS LITERALLY SO SET ON DOING THE SAME THING AGAIN TO THE TRIBES OF ZION THAT IT TAKES 100 SPEECH TO CONVINCE HIM TO TONE IT DOWN SLIGHTLY IS SOMEHOW NOT EVIL?

DID WE PLAY THE SAME GAME

[chloesimaginationthings]

Why is your springtrap design face blocky?

It’s easier to draw + IT’S FUN,,,

[monstersholygrail]

You want more hear you go

mouse reader: you know, I think our owners wanted me to be killed

cat bf *looks over* what?

mouse reader: no don’t look at me like that

mouse reader: let me explain

cat bf: go ahead I’m listening

mouse reader: your cat I’m a mouse in media cat and mouse hate each other. Cats are known to drive out mice you with me?

cat bf: ok im with you

mouse reader: when we first met, I used to get you to chase me until you figure it out, but they knew you were chasing me. They never stopped it.

cat bf: ya…

mouse reader: they ain’t never here so they brought me here why a mouse when you could have another cat not that you can replace me

cat bf: …

mouse reader: see you know I’m right

cat bf: are you on something love

mouse reader: boy don’t *walks away*

cat bf: what? Where you going

mouse reader: away

cat bf: ….

BYYYEEEE OMG IM CACKLING!!!!

I never even thought about it like that, that is too fucking funny.

Their dynamic and the way you have them talk to each other is amazing. I can’t stop giggling about it.

Literally it’s like mouse reader was supposed to be enrichment for the cat bf but in a way they ended up being enrichment for each other. All their chasing and playing around together. Keeps em on their toes haha

[skelly-words]

Hey! If cool I was wondering if you could write tentacle smut. I’m not too sure on the plot but wanted reader to be very much in some sort of public setting with loads of people just watching as she gets railed by a tentacle. The kinks I wanted to ask if they could be in there is Voyourism (public sex), public nudity, squirting and/ watersports and overstimulation.

If not that is totally okay! I just wanted to ask :) and am exited to see what you come up with if your comfortable with writing this

okay cool so....

Not proofread, tags in the ask + spit a lil bit, ass eating, idk futa shenanigans, ahhhh milk (i kinda scared myself w/ this at the end)

My brain immediately went to big networking conventions that businesses have where the important people from the different corporate branches come together to drink, schmooze, and brag about sales numbers to each other.

Your boss asks you to come with her to help with the demonstration. The travel expenses and hotel costs are all covered, so you agree to spend the weekend on Wall Street with her.

I hate this, but there's the slightest bit of lore, so i ECOURAGE you to read the other parts first -> masterlist

MINORS DNI, stay away 18+ only

The presentation room of the hotel caters to corporate mixers like this. Circular dinner tables decorated with charcuterie fill out the hall. Your knee bounces nervously as people begin to file in. Saturday had been boring, spent bumming around the all-inclusive spa while your boss attended other company presentations not too dissimilar from this one.

"Relax." Your boss whispers. She sits in the squeaky folding chair beside you. Her hand lands comfortably on your thigh, stilling your knee with her warm touch. "All you have to do is bend over the podium."

You nod and try to emulate her flippant attitude. The bounce returns to your knee anyway because nerves are impossible to hide. The minutes slip by as people settle into their seats. The dimming lights act as a cue to hush the small talk and side conversations.

“Ready?” She gives your thigh a heady squeeze.

“Yea, ‘m ready,” you mumble.

Her gait is steady and comfortable up to the front of the room, and you trail behind in the shelter of her shadow. You smiled unsteadily at the sea of unfamiliar faces. Your boss tapped her knuckles on the podium, clearing her throat to get the rooms attention.

“Thank you all for coming,” she begins. “My branch is testing a few new methods of increasing productivity today. It’s all based on the same principle, ‘a happy mind is profitable one.’

“Of course, we’ll begin with the demonstration, just to prove how much it’ll help you focus on the rest of the presentation.”

An interested hum sweeps through the crowd as she leads you around the front of the podium. You aren’t wearing panties, only a skirt, which immediately becomes apparent as she lifts your waist up to the podium. The sturdy wooden surface slopes slightly up toward the room, propped up for dozens of eyes ogle your bare skin.

The position makes blood rush to your head, almost dizzy from the heavy heartbeat in your ears. Your skin feels hot and sensitive. The skirt tickles, sliding down the gentle slope of your back. You wonder if they can see how wet you are, cunt aching from all the attention.

The speech sounds so far away, like all your senses are dulling to make way for the electricity running beneath your skin. From the corner of your eye, you see a couple workers wheel three tanks up to the front of the podium.

The terrariums are large and damp, too fogged up from humidity to see anything through the glass. They're pushed into a neat line, starting at your side and progressing to the front of the stage in single file. The tank closest to you is the smallest. It's the only one you can properly look into because the creatures have suctioned themselves to the wet panes. Their round bodies flatten into mounds on the glass, little mouths busily opening and closing. You watch them, mindlessly observing them inch in little circles, around and round, maybe spirals if you spent enough time staring. You shiver, imagining the pattern it could suck into your skin. From your position now, you wonder if you look anything like that mouth on the glass to that polite crowd of people.

You feel a warm hand skim over your ass, inviting your neatly pleated skirt to drape over your back completely. The gauzy brown fabric went well with your blouse, and you remember packing it for this conference a week in advance. It feels silly now, to think what you're wearing matters when it's really the demonstration that's important.

The first tank slides open with a squeak, and your boss pulls a writhing blue tentacle out with a cloud of steam following it. You can barely see what's happening in your peripheral vision and only when you turn your head to the side. She wastes no time at all, taking the companies limited resources into account, the conference room was only reserved for an hour. Her other hand traces up and down your back, nails first, to scratch gently through the layers of fabric.

"You're doing great, hun." She whispers the reassurance into your ear, low and husky so only you can hear it. In one motion, she presses the end of the tentacle into your butt. It's bigger than what you had at home, which is what you prepped for. Her hand flattens to soothing circles when the pain comes through in your groans. You quiet to a whimper as the thing flails, twisting to orient itself inside you. It still hurt, but you were adjusting quickly to the pressure in your ass as it slithers down to find your pussy.

Now, no matter how you turn, you can't see what's going on. The suckers drag against you, that much is easy to discern from the sense of touch. The rest of your senses besides that have gone totally useless, so you watch the hypnotic pattern that the specimens in the last tank trace in the condensation.

The blue tentacle pushes into you. It's fat, thick and showy so the people in the back can see. Your eyes might be crossing from the way it slowly stretches you out. A shiny blue slime drips from every pore, sucker, and gland on the thing, making you squish obscenely from every movement. In. Out. In. Out. And your boss is still talking, you can even see the slides she flicks through when your eyes roll back, but it all sounds like white noise as the monstrous size shoves into your cunt, slipping out to momentarily attach an oozing sucker to your clit. Then it squirms right back into your hole, so slick that it runs down the inside of your thighs.

It's hopeless to imagine paying attention to anything else.

"But that's when we ran into the issue of hygiene. Clearly, this doesn't fit corporate dress-code."

That cuts through your thoughts, followed by light chuckles. The second tank slides open with a thunk, and you don't have to crane as much to see the pink tentacle calmy wrap around her arm.

"Oh, f-fuck," you finally make a sound audible over the disgusting squelch of that blue monster. She's trying to press the thick bulb at the end of the pink one into you, leaning real close, almost cheek to cheek as she forces it further past your rim. A glob of spit falls from her lips, you groan as she smears it around with her tongue.

"Just relax for me." And you're not even sure she's talking to you in that raspy tone. The hand on your back has inched lower to keep you pinned in place, and it's making you sore from how the podium’s edge digs into your hips.

Your sounds fall freely now, turning to whines as she licks you to ease the stretch. The hand on your back lightens up as the fat plug slides into place alongside the blue one. An affectionate smack lands on your ass, rubbing her warm palm over the spot as she watches the pink tentacle unfurl and flatten.

You can't see it, only whine as the weight shifts and adjusts inside you. The blue tentacle stops moving as if to behave and play nice with a friend. The gummy feelers attach as the pink tentacle latches on. It cups your swollen pussy, cleaning up the appearance quite nicely to the audience's disappointment. But your moans grow louder, echoing to let you know the sound made it to the back of the room. The little fingerlings lining the pink tentacles interior are so active. They pinch at your clit, making it slip between the soft jelly limbs while the others started playing with the rest of you.

"...And when properly stimulated, this specimen can be prompted to release its reproductive material on command." That faint comment reminds you of the eggs.

Your gasp is mixed between startled and concerned when her hand begins to brush the tentacle wrapped around your crotch. Being stuffed with the twitching blue tentacle makes you wonder where all the slimy eggs will go.

At her light brushes, the tendrils start to pull you apart. They slip inside you, just barely, enough to make your legs start to shake. You can feel them start to pour in as her thumb pushes down, squeezing out the soft spawn like horrific toothpaste as she slides the digit up from the base.

The blue tentacle comes back to life now, helping push the pink jelly into your poor pussy. You can feel the tiny limbs scoop and blue suckers fuck the eggs up against your sore cervix. And still, nobody can see. Your boss stands over you. Her hand trails between your thighs, tapping in the drying slick that's become tacky. She tugs at the tip of the tentacle, pinching firmly at the pink appendage and peeling it back.

Not all the eggs made it inside, rolling down your thighs as the mess is exposed. She's slow with her reveal, trailing her fingers through the juices to try the combination. You've gotten quieter, trying to keep your whimpers silent now that it's easier to hear. She starts to pull at the plug, and you have to bite your lip to keep it down. It doesn't wanna come out of your ass, still pulsing from so recently releasing eggs. Still, she tugs, making you squirm and clench your cunt. You've been on the edge for so long, and feeling the stretch to your rim makes your thighs squeeze together. They can barely shut to rub around your throbbing clit.

"I might as well introduce the last one then." She gives up on freeing the pink tentacle with a frustrated sigh and finally steps behind the podium to reach the tank in your eyeline. "They fit perfectly under your bra, so we'll both be demonstrating."

Your eyes follow her hand, from the lid, to inside the tank, to the buttons on her shirt. You strain to look up at her because she's standing so close, watching with jealousy as that thing sucks on her nipple. Her breasts look bigger too, spilling from her bra when she tries to squish them back into her shirt. A glance back down makes you blush. A bulge starts to bubble from her pencil skirt. It wouldn't be very noticeable if it wasn't a few inches from your nose.

"My turn?" You look up at her from between watery lashes, bending to smiling crescents when she nods. She lifts your chest just enough from the podium to let the green lump latch onto you. It doesn't seem to mind being squashed against the wood when she lowers you back down. They feel good, sucking at your breasts in a perfectly alternating rhythm. You start to feel weird, hotter as your tits get sore. The mouths pinch a little, not enough to hurt, barely more than a warning bite. You groan, the throbbing in your ruined pussy is getting worse. It makes you imagine what your boss is feeling. The pre dripping into her underwear. You probably could take her cock too if she asked you. She's still giving a presentation, talking through a slide as the buttons on her dress shirt strain. Her hand slips back to your butt, where it was yanking the bigger plug out of you.

She braces the opposite hand on your asscheek, rocking the pink tentacle back and forth to coax it out. You can barely hold sound back, dissolving into pitchy breaths when the fat blue fucker decides to start up again. It starts slow, but that pace doesn't last. After packing you with eggs, it's eager to let its cum out. Every loud thrust makes the eggs probe deeper. You can feel it in your tummy, pressed flat to the uncomfortably hard podium.

Your sensitive nipples pulse in time with the relentless suckers. You can't even care to be surprised as they spurt milk, moaning instead from the toy twisting in your ass.

The pink tentacle finally slips out of you, put back in its tank where it belongs. But you're sore, hole left gaping for the blue one to fill in as it swells. It gets bigger in your pussy too, larger with each beat. Even as she talks, her fingers can't stop playing with you, either pinching at your skin or dragging a digit through your slit. Her microphone is ther only thing keeping her intelligible over your cries, strung out from the pleasure.

Her fingers swirl around your clit, so sensitive. The touch isn't any more than light nibbles on your chest, but it makes you gasp and jump against her hand. You start to cum when she twists harder. The moans inside you spill out in one cry as you squirt. The pinch to your clit makes you spurt all over the front of her clothes.

She gasps in disgust and yanks you off the podium. The flooring is carpet, soft enough for your sore ass when you slump against the sturdy wood.

Your boss brushes off the interruption like nothing, simply indicating the conclusion of the demonstration as the slides flick to a new segment. She steps carefully between your legs when walking back to her place behind the podium.

The front of your blouse is halfway unbuttoned, however much was needed to get those creatures on, and now you notice how swollen they made your tits. You whine as the blue thing keeps moving between your thighs. There's more leverage at this angle and you don't know if you should moan or cry. In a few stunted thrusts, cum starts to fill you up, thick ropes of it that still somehow leak out from between all the eggs and the fat tentacle.

The pretty blue sheen coats your inner-thighs and the conference room floor. Something’s still wrong though. The ache between your legs isn't gone, not completely no matter how much your sore body begs to stop. It's the milk, or the hormones that come with it asking for just a little more. The demonstration portion is over. You're done, everyone's supposed to be focused on the woman speaking.

You slip a hand to your clit, circling the bud with shaking fingers. Just one more, and you'll be fine. Your boss doesn't even notice the room's eyes drifting lower. The blue tentacle indulges you, lazily moving in your cunny along with a few pumps of its warm seed. You can look at the lump it makes in your stomach from this angle.

This time, the orgasm builds fast and you have to muffle soft pants against your hand as you cum. Your poor pussy hurts, but you still need another and the tight circles on your clit don't let up.

There can't be that much more time before the hour is up and she has to get these things off you. Yet, your wrist is getting sore and weak dribbles of piss leak out of you at each peak. You notice people in the crowd hiding their arousal, and that somehow makes your crazy mind even hornier. Your abused clitty gives a heartbeat to your thumb each time someone palms their crotch or crosses their legs, still trying to be politely discreet.

The lights brighten as the presentation ends and a few odd bursts of scattered applause break out at a few tables. You still don't have the decency to leave your needy cunt alone, finally closing your legs around the blue tendril still curled up inside you as the people leave the room to pick a brochure up.

I had another anon ask abt going to find a new tentacle with the coworker from pt.2, but I kinda decided they were aliens (pink and blue both would normally use a host for mating and the suckers kinda do the same thing but for food, ig they're all just parasites sorry if that's gross), so i added a new variety into this one for you <3

A/N- how'd she do that? i would've gone ngh~ *squish* IMMEDIATLY, sry can you tell idk anything about an office job? oh well, stfu and enjoy the smut then (this is way over the top 😭) Also why did i give myself the displeasure of two (2) unnamed characters, give me names for Ms. boss or i'll start adding y/n (a threat)

[vongulli]

ever gonna draw carrot or any of the mermaids since u dont post monster girls anymore

I’ll doodle carrot!! I don’t know any of the mermaids other than the big crybaby one!

[foxgloveprincess]

I saw that art that you just reblogged. And I really liked it and it got me thinking. Steve and Bucky's girl in it's a game of give and take, what would happen if she was, for some reason, changed into a monster for a day?

Hi, Autumn! 💜 From this picture. You really got me thinking (sorry it took so long to reply!!). So…

What If…You Woke Up as a Monster?

Warnings: Fluff, Suggestive Content/implied Smut, Monster AU, Monster x Human Romance, Cuddling, Barely Edited. Minors do not interact (18+).

“What the fuck,” you drone, staring at your reflection in the mirror. Fingers trailing over the scales framing your face. Nails pointed with claws. Legs replaced by the muscles of a snake’s tail. Tilting your head, you catch every angle of your reflection before a thundering thump falls against the bathroom door.

“You alright in there?” Steve calls through the wood. Knob jiggling under his hand.

“I…” You swallow the rest of the instinctual placation. Blinking again and hoping to turn back to your typical self.

The door flies open. Your minotaur filling the doorway with Bucky peeking over his shoulder. Both their eyes wide with panic. Blankets tangled around their ankles and hair mussed from sleep.

“Hi?” you greet with a brief wave of your hand. Smile strained by your own anxiety.

Steve blinks. Eyes scanning every inch of your body in its new form. He swallows. Lips parting on a thought. Pupils blowing wide.

Bucky slips past before he says anything. Slithering up to your side and wrapping his tail with yours. His arms encase your waist as his head falls to your shoulder.

“You’ll be alright, baby,” he soothes.

Your tongue peeks from between your lips. The world around you opening up in an explosion of delicious scent. The taste of your boys filling your senses. Every tastebud savoring them. Yet you blink yourself out of the tempting daze—your new form more concerning than any new pleasures it might bring, right?

“What are we gonna do?” Your voice cracks over the question.

Steve sighs, shaking himself, his lips tilting in a small smile. “We’re gonna figure things out, li’l star.” His hands find your cheeks, cradling your face in his warm palms. “And we’ll be fine, just like Bucky said. No matter what happens.”

“What if it’s like a disease?” you ask, mind starting to spiral with worst case scenarios.

“We’ll be fine,” your minotaur soothes.

“Or some kind of curse.”

“We’ll be fine.”

“Or a—”

“We’ll be fine,” Steve repeats, punctuating each word with a peck to your lips. At once calming your worries and stopping your plummet into anxiety. “Now, can you get around, or do we need to carry you?”

“I—” you pause and dip your chin, “I think I can get it—I got into here alright.” You glance toward Bucky, teeth sinking into your lower lip. “But you can’t laugh. I’m still figuring it out.”

“Never,” Bucky says, squeezing his arms around your waist. “Let’s get to the couch.”

“Good idea,” Steve agrees, “we’ll just take it easy today. See if anything changes.”

You nod and begin your trek to the living room. Arms out to balance as your tail slithers behind you, muscles working to move you across the floor, to keep yourself upright.

Your husbands trail behind you, letting you take your time until you reach your oversized sofa. And Steve’s arms loop under you and scoop you up. His body reclining against the cushions and draping you across him.

You fidget and shift a moment, tucking your tail in just the right way to be comfortable. Lying atop your minotaur and resting your head on his chest. The beat of his heart right under your ear, a pulse that vibrates through you.

And then you’re squished. Bucky draping himself over you both. Wrapping his arms around your waist. Perching to your side. Tail entangling with your own and snaking around Steve’s furry legs.

Your breath hitches. Oh. Whatever instinctual connection in your brain that just hit has you sparkling. You don’t recognize the sound that rolls past your lips. But you do recognize the way your whole body melts into Steve and Bucky. The need that gathers low in your belly.

“Looks like our li’l wifey is starting to enjoy herself,” Steve chuckles, petting his hand along your elongated spine.

“We can help with that,” Bucky enthuses, his claws slipping between your bodies and finding your breasts. “Would you like that?” he asks, sweet and sinful.

Your eyes close, every ounce of effort in restraining yourself from losing your mind completely. Swallowing down a throaty hum of arousal, you reply with a sibilant, “yes.”

And when you wake up the next morning back in your typical body, tangled with your husbands and sore in every best possible way, a small sinful part of you wishes it’ll happen again.

[pistachi0art]

for the monster mash....... a werebear!

interesting subversion! 🧸

(now what would be worse: getting chased down by a humanoid wolf in partially in an hev suit pumped up on morphine or a humanoid bear partially in an hev suit pumped up on morphine? )