#tag: male monster

[mxnsterbabe]

Male Drider/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 3,430 Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

You're invited to a masquerade ball, hosted by the mysterious Lord Iskinder. A mysterious drider catches your eye, and it turns out that these two may have more in common than you think.

You stood at the edge of the ballroom hosted by the mysterious Lord Iskinder, the grandeur of the space unfolding before you like a scene from a storybook. Opulent chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, their light cascading over the guests and illuminating the room with a warm, golden glow. The walls, adorned with golden tapestries and gilded mirrors, echoed the laughter and music that filled the air.

Around you, the guests danced, the epitome of elegance and grace, their masks glinting in the light from the tall windows. Feathers, jewels, and intricate patterns disguised familiar faces, adding an air of mystery and intrigue to the evening.

Your own mask, a delicate creation of lace and pearls, felt like a second skin, its design both concealing and revealing. It was a perfect blend of mystery and allure, designed to intrigue yet allow you to blend seamlessly into the crowd.

Iskinder lingered in your mind as you navigated through the throngs of dancing couples and clusters of chatting nobles. The ball was a rare occasion where the norms of society could be bent, where one could indulge in the freedom of anonymity.

Amidst the swirl of gowns and the soft rustle of silk, your attention was caught by a figure unlike any other. The mystery man was a drider of remarkable presence, standing on the fringes of the dance floor. His upper body was that of a man, his skin a rich, dusky hue that complemented his flowing black hair; but from the waist down, he was a creature of legend, his eight, elegant legs belonging to that of a pinktoe tarantula.

His mask, a masterful creation of silver and obsidian, framed piercing eyes that seemed to see through the frivolous facade of the ball.

The sight of him, so regal and otherworldly, sent a shiver of excitement down your spine. The ballroom, with its gilded opulence and the sea of masked faces, suddenly seemed to fade into the background. The air around you thickened with anticipation, the moment poised on the edge of something transformative.

The concept of a drider, those beings of legend and whispers, had always seemed like a fanciful tale to you, stories meant to entertain and intrigue. Yet, there he stood, living proof of their existence.

His presence in the heart of high society was as breathtaking as it was unprecedented, drawing curious glances and hushed tones from the surrounding guests. Despite their stares, none dared voice their wonder or disdain aloud; the drider's demeanor, poised and unyielding, commanded respect and held a challenge in its stead, as if daring anyone to question his right to be among them.

As your gaze met his from across the room, the world seemed to tilt slightly on its axis. His eyes, bright as molten gold, burned with an intensity that pierced through the sea of masks and whispered conversations. In that brief exchange, something sparked to life, fleeting yet undeniable.

A flush of warmth crept up your cheeks, and you found yourself looking away, overwhelmed by the sudden depth of emotion that single glance had evoked. Your heart fluttered like a caged bird. It was an unfamiliar sensation, this desire to know more.

When you dared to glance back, hoping for another glimpse of the drider who had so captivated your thoughts, you found only the swirling mass of guests. He had vanished, blending into the crowd with a grace and speed you hadn’t expected.

Seeking respite from the press of the crowd, you drifted towards the refreshments table, the drider man still rattling about in your mind. The clink of glass and the murmur of conversation was a welcome distraction.

As you reached for a glass, the animated voices of two women nearby caught your attention, their topic of discussion sending a shiver of curiosity down your spine.

"... and they say Lord Iskinder, the host of tonight's ball, hasn't been seen by anyone this evening. It's all so mysterious," one woman whispered, her voice pitched with curiosity. "In fact, few have ever seen him at all. Those who have are sworn to such secrecy that no one knows what he truly looks like."

The other woman leaned in closer, her interest piqued. "A reclusive lord hosting a grand masquerade? It's the perfect setting for him to wander amongst us unnoticed. The anonymity of the masks, the mingling of guests... it's all by design, surely."

Your curiosity, already kindled by the encounter with the strange drider, flared into a blaze. With a polite interjection, you joined their conversation. "Excuse me, did I hear you correctly? Lord Iskinder has orchestrated this evening's affair yet remains unseen? How peculiar for a host."

The first woman nodded, her eyes alight with the thrill of gossip. "Indeed, it's the talk of the evening. A lord who is more shadow than substance, his presence felt but not seen. This masquerade could very well be his way of hiding in plain sight, observing his guests from behind the veil of anonymity."

The second woman added with a conspiratorial smile, "Some even speculate that the masquerade is a test of sorts, a way for Lord Iskinder to seek out those with a keen eye or perhaps a kindred spirit, without the constraints of societal expectations."

The idea that the elusive lord might be among the guests, shrouded by the anonymity of his own masquerade, sent a thrill through you. The possibility that the ball was not just a social event but a personal quest for the host, a search for connection amidst the pageantry, gave the night an air of unpredictability.

It was all so romantic, wasn’t it?

With a glass of champagne in hand, you retreated to a quieter corner of the ballroom, the golden liquid sparkling under the chandelier's light as you gently swirled the glass. The conversation with the two women lingered in your mind. The idea that Lord Iskinder might have been mingling among his guests incognito, perhaps even observing you at this very moment, lent an exhilarating edge to the night.

Your mind wandered back to the drider, whose presence had so captivated you earlier. If the women's musings held any truth, and Lord Iskinder was indeed among his guests incognito, then the appearance of such a rare and remarkable creature at the ball was no mere coincidence. Perhaps the drider was one of the lord's exclusive guests, a confidant or even a friend, invited to the ball for reasons known only to them.

With each sip of champagne, the possibilities seemed to expand, the boundaries of the ordinary stretching to encompass the magical and the unknown.

Your contemplation was abruptly shattered by a voice, soft like silk and honey. The unexpectedness of it sent a flutter through your heart, a sensation akin to the gentle touch of a butterfly's wing against your skin.

Lifting your gaze, you found yourself once again locked in the captivating stare of the drider from before. His molten gold eyes, gleaming with an inner warmth beneath the intricate mask, held yours in a gaze that was somehow both soft and so intense, it made your toes curl. The mask, an exquisite piece of craftsmanship, could not conceal the expressiveness of his eyes, nor the gentle curve of his lips that hinted at a smile.

"Would you care to dance?" he asked, his voice weaving through the din of the ballroom to reach you, clear and resonant.

The invitation, unexpected yet undeniably thrilling, sparked a mixture of excitement and apprehension within you. The thought of dancing with someone so fundamentally different, whose very form defied the conventions of the dances you knew, had your heart quickening in intrigue.

"I would be delighted," you replied, the words slipping out almost of their own accord, driven by the allure of the unknown. "Though, I must admit, I'm not entirely sure how to dance with... someone as unique as yourself."

His chuckle, a rich sound that seemed to resonate from deep within, was both reassuring and infectious. "Fear not," he assured you, a playful glint in his eyes. "When one possesses eight legs, one learns to make quite a few adjustments. I shall lead, and all you need to do is follow."

With swift grace, he offered you his hand, his movements as fluid and assured as they were gentle. As you placed your hand in his, the contrast between his strength and the careful tenderness of his touch was striking.

Together, you moved towards the dance floor, the thrum of anticipation building with each step. The crowd seemed to part for us, their curiosity mingled with an unspoken respect for the majesty of his presence.

As you reached the center of the dance floor, the music swelled, a lilting melody that seemed to wrap around you, inviting you to lose yourself in the rhythm. With a grace that took your breath away, he began to move, leading you into the dance with an ease that made your earlier apprehensions seem distant memories.

The world around you faded, the grandeur of the ballroom, the whispering guests, even the constraints of your own body seemed to dissolve in the magic of the moment. Iskinder's movements were a marvel, lithe legs strangely delicate. He was beautiful.

As the dance reached its crescendo, he executed a twirl, his movements orchestrating yours with such skill that you found yourself spinning, the room whirling around you in a blur of lights and colours. In that moment, suspended in the dance, you felt a joyous abandon that had your heart in your throat.

As the momentum of the twirl gently subsided, you found yourself momentarily unsteady, the world still spinning slightly around you. In an instant, one of the drider’ss slender spider legs moved to steady you against his chest. The unexpectedness of the gesture, the feel of his leg against you, might have startled you under different circumstances, but in that moment, it was nothing short of a saving grace.

"I do apologise," he murmured, his voice a soft rumble that resonated through the close space between you. "I sometimes forget how... unconventional my form can be."

You shook your head, a small smile playing at your lips, your heart still racing from the dance and the near fall. "No, I should be thanking you. Without your quick reflexes, I'd have been the evening's spectacle, tumbling across the dance floor."

The thought alone was enough to bring a flush of embarrassment to your cheeks, the imagined titters and whispers of the assembled guests a mortifying prospect. Yet, his next gesture swept away any lingering discomfort.

With a tenderness that took you by surprise, he reached up to gently tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. The contact, brief though it was, sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

"You are quite a spectacle, though for entirely different reasons," he said, his voice low, imbued with a sincerity that made you lift your gaze to meet his. In the gold of his eyes, you saw a warmth, an admiration that held you captive, and for a fleeting moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you.

The air between you charged. There was a pull as undeniable as it was unexpected. You found yourself leaning in, drawn by a force you couldn't quite name, the distance between you diminishing with each passing second. The possibility of a kiss, the mingling of breath and the meeting of lips, hovered in the space between you, tantalizing and terrifying in equal measure.

As the reality of the moment, of the public setting and the eyes that might very well be upon you, crashed back in, you took a step back, breaking the spell. The loss of proximity felt like a cold draft, a reminder of the boundaries that society, and your own caution, imposed.

Sensing the shift, Iskinder's expression softened, a note of concern creeping into his voice. "Perhaps you need some fresh air," he suggested, his gaze searching yours for signs of distress.

You shook your head, the rapid beat of your heart beginning to steady once more. "No, truly, I'm fine," you insisted, though the lingering warmth of his touch and the nearness of what might have been left you feeling anything but settled.

Seeing the hesitation in your eyes, he proposed once more, his voice gentle yet insistent. "Perhaps a moment of fresh air would do you good," he suggested, his gaze holding yours with an intensity that made it difficult to look away. "And, should you wish for company, I could join you outside in a few moments. It might afford us the opportunity to converse away from the crowd."

The idea of retreating to the relative solitude of the gardens, especially in the company of such an intriguing figure, sparked a flicker of excitement within you. Yet, the impropriety of the suggestion, the departure from the strictures of decorum that such a meeting would entail, gave you pause.

Sensing your reluctance, he added, "At events such as these, draped in masks and shadows, propriety often takes a back seat to intrigue. We are all here to escape the mundane, if only for a night."

His words, spoken with a confidence that bordered on persuasion, tipped the scales. The allure of stolen moments under the cover of night, away from the prying eyes and whispered judgments of the ballroom, proved too tempting to resist.

Resolved to take a chance on the unexpected, you agreed to meet him outside. Yet, before you could part ways, a sudden thought struck you. "I realise I don't even know your name," you said, a blush colouring your cheeks at the oversight.

With a smile that was both enigmatic and disarmingly genuine, he replied, "My name is Lord Iskinder." The revelation, delivered with a flash of sharp, predatory teeth that glinted in the ballroom's light, sent a jolt of surprise through you.

Lord Iskinder. The enigmatic host of the ball, the subject of whispered speculation and rumour, stood before you, not just a figure of myth but a living, breathing presence.

As the significance of the revelation settled over you, Iskinder offered a nod of acknowledgment, as if he understood the weight of what he had just disclosed. Then, turning delicately, he turned and vanished into the crowd.

As you stepped out into the crisp embrace of the evening air a minute later, the gardens unfolded before you like a scene from a dream. The lawns were bordered by beds of fragrant flowers, their sweet scent mingling with the earthy aroma of the night. Lanterns hung from the boughs of ancient trees, casting a soft, dappled light that danced on the pathways, guiding your steps and painting the scene with an ethereal glow.

Ahead, a gazebo, draped in climbing ivy and delicate blooms, stood as a focal point within the garden's design. It was there, under its latticed roof, that you noticed two orcish women, their forms silhouetted by the lanterns' gentle luminescence. They were locked in an embrace, sharing a kiss as the shorter woman titled her head back.

The sight, tender and unabashed, stirred a curious longing within you, a whisper of wonder about the sensation of Iskinder's kiss, the press of his lips.

Lost in thought, you scarcely noticed the approach of a presence until it was nearly upon you. The air seemed to shift, charged with an anticipation that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Turning, you found yourself once again in the company of Iskinder, his smile ravishing.

Under the moonlight, he appeared transformed. The soft silver light lent an ethereal quality to his features, highlighting the angularity of his face and the deep pools of his molten gold eyes. His hair, a cascading waterfall of black, shimmered with a lustrous sheen. The spider half of his form, though shadowed, moved with a silent grace that was utterly mesmerising.

His voice, when he spoke, was a soft murmur that seemed to caress the night air, a contrast to the visual ferocity of his form. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long," he said, his words tinged with warmth.

The sight of him, so formidable yet so gentle, made you squirm. The flash of sharp teeth as he spoke, far from deterring you, only served to heighten the allure. Gods, you wanted to kiss him.

As if attuned to your thoughts, Iskinder leaned in, his proximity erasing the remnants of the evening's chill. The scent of roses, a natural, earthy fragrance that seemed to emanate from his very being, mingled with notes of champagne. His hair brushed against your skin, a feather-light touch that sent shivers down your spine.

The air between you was charged with anticipation, every breath you took laced with the promise of what might come. His eyes, glowing softly in the moonlit garden, held yours with an intensity that seemed to pierce through to your very soul. You found yourself caught in the gravity of the moment, the world around you narrowing to the space where you and Iskinder stood, teetering on the brink of a kiss.

Yet, just as the distance between you dwindled to nothing, as you braced for the contact you both sought and feared, Iskinder pulled back. The sudden absence of his warmth left you momentarily adrift, a silent plea on your lips. He didn't move far; instead, his hand found yours, his grip firm and reassuring as he led you deeper into the garden.

The path wound through the garden, each step taking you further from the ballroom's echoes and closer to a solitude you hadn't realized you craved. When you arrived at a secluded flower garden, embraced by latticed walls that seemed to hold the night at bay, Iskinder stopped. Here, surrounded by the gentle fragrance of blooms and the soft rustle of leaves, he turned to face you once more.

This time, there was no hesitation. Iskinder pulled you into his embrace, his arms encircling you with a strength that was both protective and inviting.

Then, he kissed you.

The kiss was everything and nothing like you'd imagined. His lips were softer than you'd expected, their touch igniting a fire that raced through your veins, leaving you breathless and wanting. The taste of him, masculine and sharp, was tempered by the sweetness of champagne on his tongue.

As Iskinder deepened the kiss, the world around you seemed to dissolve, leaving only the sensation of his mouth on yours, the gentle yet insistent press of his lips, and the intermingling of your breaths. The sharpness of his teeth grazed your lip in a fleeting caress, a thrill of danger that made you sigh almost wistfully.

Finally, necessity compelled you to break the kiss, the need for air pulling you back to the present. You were left breathless, your cheeks flushed with a rosy hue - you knew by how hot you felt, burning up.

Iskinder, ever attentive, placed a lingering kiss at the corner of your lips. His arm remained securely around your waist, sharp nails just grazing your hips.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, the words a tender echo in the secluded garden. The sincerity in his voice made your heart swell.

In a moment of boldness, fueled by the magic of the night and the undeniable bond you felt, you replied, "So are you, Lord Iskinder. Beautiful."

For a moment, Iskinder seemed taken aback, a bashful light touching his eyes. "People rarely call me beautiful," he admitted, a hint of vulnerability in his voice. "Yet, coming from you, I believe it."

You reached up to flutter a hand across his cheek, where the cool mask met his skin.

As the night air began to cool, Iskinder pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Shall we go back? I find myself eager to dance with you again, under the watchful eyes of my guests."

The prospect of rejoining the throng of guests, of stepping back into the public eye where the magic of your secluded encounter might fade, filled you with a quiet disappointment.

“Can’t we just stay out here forever?”

Sensing your reluctance, Iskinder offered a compromise, his voice low and inviting. "If you would grant me the honor of your company tomorrow evening, you could return to my home. There, away from prying eyes, we could spend the night… just the two of us."

The invitation sparked a flame of anticipation within you. The promise of more time with Iskinder was an offer too compelling to refuse.

With a grin, you nodded - and stood on your toes to pull him in for one last, lingering kiss.

#monster fucker #monster boyfriend #monster romance #monster x reader #exophilia fiction #exophilia #tag: drider #tag: mxf #tag: male monster #tag: female reader #tag: sfw

[velvetti]

Sea of lust

Warning: Non-con, Kidnapping, Beastiality, Tentacles, Stimulation of both holes at once, NFST, Cream pie, Overstimulation, Not proofread

The ocean is a rather unfamiliar thing to humans. The ocean is everywhere, it covers the entire Earth yet nobody has managed to figure out what's under the first layer of the sea and come back in one piece without any special equipments, or come back in general.

You are one of the unfortunate folks to wander too far away from shore while diving. You didn't notice it at first as the water only turned to a colder shade and there were less living things around you, there wasn't any coral, there was just cold deep water, sand and seaweed. You dives deeper, wanting to find out if there's any other thing in the bottom of the ocean.

You brush your hand against the sand floor, picking up a single shell that you managed to find but there isn't anything special about it, it doesn't look like any kind of shell you had seen during all his diving journeys before. You dives forward while looking around, trying to find any other thing.

Luckily, or unluckily, you had noticed a living being after diving for so long. The creature wasn't anything you had seen before, it looks like some kind of weird mutant octopus with multiple tentacles. It's heading your way.

As any normal person would do, you try to get out of the ocean immediately, trying to dive back to shore and get away from the creature before it could get to you. The creature reaches its tentacles out to wrap around your body effortlessly, pulling you in closer and... Submerging you inside it? The creature isn't eating you, it's trapping you in its body like some kind of capsule.

You look around the insides of the creature after it has submerged you inside it. It's pitch black in here due to how dark it is, you reach to find your diving flash light and turn it on, just to be greeted with the sight of many small tentacles that are reaching out towards you. Two tentacles wrap around your knees to hold your legs open, another tentacle going to wrap both of your hands together, holding it behind your back.

You try to scream for help, of course nobody is gonna hear you, you're under the sea, silly. He'll take really good care of you.

Another tentacle starts to rip your tight diving suit into small pieces, revealing your entire torso and lower body. A tentacle goes over to rub against your crotch, it's sloppy feeling against your hole sends a chill down your spine. Another going over to shove its way into your mouth to muffle your pathetic noises, playing with your tongue. Two of them move to play with your chest, moving against your nipples and pinching them even when they start to hurt.

When the creature thinks that you're loose enough, it shoves a tentacle inside of you without any warning, causing you to feel a weird tingle in your stomach. The tentacles don't leave you a moment to think however, they start to move in and out of both your holes, their sloppiness makes the experience enjoyable and surprisingly pleasant. You can believe you're saying this, but you low-key like this.

The tentacles gradually increase its speed, one going over to pull your hair back to give the other tentacle more access to your throat, making your back arch. The two tentacles hold your leg open wider as another tentacle enters your hole, shoving it inside despite the previous tentacle, causing you to cum and tightening around all the tentacles.

The tentacles down there move in a mind breaking speed, it feels so good to be filled up like this. While one pushes against your sensitive spot, the other pulls out just to pound against that same spot while the other moves out, just to repeat the process over and over again. The tentacle in your mouth felt as if it was making out with you, making your brain melt as the salty taste fills your mouth. A few tentacles that aren't stimulating you are kissing your skins, leaving circle marks behind like some kind of hickeys.

The tentacles milked you dry, tormenting you even when you're extremely overly stimulated, even when your liquids had soaked the tentacles and when you're sobbing from all the pleasure. Finally you feel warm spurts deep inside your stomach and your mouth, loads of it as the tentacles pounds into you many more times before finally pulling out of your body, the tentacles are still holding your legs open and keep your wrists together. You look down with droopy eyes to see loads of semen dripping out of your hole, tears fall down from your eyes down onto your stomach. You close your eyes and fall asleep as one of the tentacles goes over to pet your head and ruffle your hair, presumably as a gift for doing a good job.

By the time you woke up, you were naked in a deep cave, the creature sleeping and a bowl full of ripe fruits next to you. As you pick up and take a bite out of an apple, you begin to think about what just happened. The creature looked surprisingly docile and adorable like this, as if it didn't just fuck you into overstimulation earlier. Maybe this isn't so bad...

#gender neutral reader #bottom male reader #female reader #gender neutral nsft #idk what tags to add #tentacles #tentacle monster #orginal post #male reader #vel-fic

[flowersandbigteeth]

🌶️ Spicy🌶️ Masterpost

These are all NSFW fics that are either going or finished 😈

Request Info: Please read before making a request

Key:

☣️ Dark: May contain dark themes readers may find disturbing including noncon, dubcon or violence

💝 Cozy: Gentler fics. There may be violence or yandere themes but it is light, or soft yandere

I did my best to categorize these but everything is relative. Please read the trigger warnings carefully before reading

☣️ Tentacle Monster- Chase: nsfw -- x f reader

Part One, Part Two , Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

☣️ Shadowbeast- Rafe: nsfw -- x f reader

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven

Headcanon

☣️ Wind God- Torin: nsfw -- x f reader

Part One, Part Two Part Three Part Four

☣️ Warlock- Landis: nsfw

Oneshot - this is part of a novel that I probably wont post to tumblr

☣️ Knights - Xavier, Dustin, Eli, and Marco: nsfw -- x maid f reader

Oneshot

☣️ Wolf- Ruston: nsfw -- x f reader

Oneshot, Part Two, Headcanon

☣️ Hesian Alien- Nasos : nsfw-- x f reader

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

☣️ Hesian Alien Rancher- Kostas: nsfw -- x f reader

Request, Headcanon, Request (SFW) Request

☣️ Gargoyle Book Shop Owner- Heath: nsfw -- x f reader

Oneshot, Headcanon, Part Two

💝Vampire Triplets- Church, Sin, and Angel: nsfw -- x f succubus reader

Request

☣️Catman Alien Twins- Qhen and Ceth: nsfw -- x f reader

Part One, Headcanon, Headcanon

💝Minotaur Demigod- Solomon : nsfw -- x water nymph reader

Request

💝Werebear- Hugo: nsfw -- x childhood friend f reader

Oneshot, Headcanon, Part Two, Request, Part Three

☣️ Alpha Gangster- Jude: nsfw -- x f omega reader

Oneshot

☣️ Shapeshifter- Shane: future nsfw -- x f reader

Part One

💝Night Elf- Victor: nsfw -- x f reader

Request

☣️Kelpie- Vylkas: nsfw -- x f reader

Request, Request (SFW)

☣️ Vampire- Marius: semi-nsfw -- x f reader

Oneshot

💝Shadow King- Zintius: nsfw and sfw -- x f reader

Request (SFW), Part Two (NSFW)

💝Kherae Alien- Idreod: sfw & nsfw -- x reader with glasses

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four (NSFW), Part Five (NSFW), Part six, Part Seven, Part eight

First Person POV available on smashwords

💝Maeder- Rohan: nsfw -- x musician reader

Request

💝Kherae King- Argan: nsfw -- x musician reader

Oneshot

💝Dragon Knight- Severin: nsfw -- x princess reader

Oneshot, Part Two

☣️ Sarantopodarousacentaur (Half man/Half centipede) - Mitas: nsfw -- x f reader

Oneshot

☣️ Drider: Ruvain: nsfw -- x f reader

Oneshot

☣️ Changeling: Clark: NSFW -- x flower nymph reader

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine

💝Orc- Moth: NSFW -- x f reader

Oneshot

💝Orc King- Golmad: NSFW -- x f reader with speech disability

Request Oneshot

💝Mothman- Roth: NSFW -- x f reader

Oneshot

Divider from: @saradika

Bluesky -- Carrd -- Commissions

#smut #monster smut #yandere smut #yandere male #monster x girl #monster x reader #yandere x reader #x reader #teratophillia #terato #terato tag #terato fic #exophilia #exophelia

[soft5ku11]

WOAH HOLY SHIT 2000 FOLLOWERS? THANK YOU?? WHAT THE SHITT??

To celebrate 2000, enjoy 2000lbs of Doug! Somehow, he miraculously gained hundreds of pounds overnight, demolishing his bed and becoming as big as the bedroom. He can't even stand up now, unless he wants to risk tearing the roof off the place. Not to mention he's even fatter than he was before on top of all that...

#thank you guys sm i cry i scream i shid my pant #jk on that last one #fat art #fat #my art #weight gain #weight gain art #male weight gain art #fat boy #male wg #fat belly #male macro #macro art #i guess #dug tag #peenor warning wOah #fat doug monster camp #doug monster camp weight gain #slime weight gain #fat slime #slime wg #bed breaking

[demeterdefence]

i have a lot of bones to pick this chapter and i will get to that but i'm still really pressed by how rachel depicts kronos apparently grieving having to kill hera in her vision

rachel does this really gross thing where at some point in the narrative, she'll have the male abuser depict some kind of sadness in regards to his female victim, but it is not remorse. it really reads like whitewashing the abuse itself because "can't you see how upset the abuser is that he has to do this :("

apollo got that really disgusting pov chapter talking about his perspective on persephone after raping her and that was bad enough, but then you also see kronos and his relationship with hera being sanitized or even shipped, when hera said verbatim that he abused her and she did not want to sleep with him, she had hoped she could just charm him. the narrative explicitly points out that kronos is a chronic abuser - he kills or severely injures rhea in a fit of rage after using all her powers, he frequently drives away any nymph or consort who approaches him, and he spends who knows how long mentally torturing hera.

there's another essay tucked into that but i just find it so fucking egregious that rachel wants to portray kronos as being upset he has to kill hera because of his own feelings for her, when the fact of the matter is he is choosing to kill her, just like he chose to kill rhea, and swallow his sons, and tear hera in half. depicting an abuser (a serial abuser, in this case) as being upset over an action he's choosing to do for his own benefit is ... a choice, and a disturbing one. why are we centering the abuser in a sympathetic light when he is still ultimately abusing someone???

#anti lo #anti lore olympus #abuse ment / #just to be safe #it just strikes me as so ... backwards isn't strong enough it really disturbs me #esp considering the random ass sex scene in the next chapter and THOSE implications #but lo constantly just ... focuses time and energy on the male perpetuators of violence #and not on like ... their female victims lol #and if focus IS given to them it's handwaved away #demeter being tricked into having sex with zeus??? her frequent abuse from hades? nada #also hera saying ''i love you'' to a monster who is capable of killing her and everyone she loves #whom she is sleeping with in order to stop him from destroying everything #and people saying ''yeah that's a ship right there'' #nothing in this rant is coherent these tags are a mess lmao

[twitterpated-passion]

China Cabinet | Monster Boyfriend

The cabinet in the corner of your dining room was definitely haunted. You didn’t need to be a medium or believe in the paranormal to know that. It was empty, lacking the china that the previous owners took with them, and considering that you rarely had people other than the occasional friend or your parents over, you never cared enough to get any to fill it, so there it sat, bolted to the wall and empty.

At night though, if you were settled in your living room working, you usually felt something watching you, and if you took the chance and glanced up, it wasn’t rare to see something moving. Though usually, you just pushed it as your eyes fucking with you, or your brain trying to creep you out, so you distracted yourself by popping in your headphones, turning on music or a movie in the background and continue working. The distraction usually helped. Not all the time though.

|___________|

You sat on your couch, a Halloween movie from the nineties on the tv and your hand residing in a half full popcorn bag. After graduating, going out for Halloween never seemed as fun anymore, especially as your friends moved on with their lives, getting married, some even having a kid or two. So there you were, binging movies like no one’s business. That is, until a loud slam echoed in your house.

You stood up, wiping your hand off as it left the popcorn bag when it got set on the table, ignoring everything every horror movie taught you. You walked to the dining room, leaning against the doorframe before reaching over and flicking the light on, seeing nothing there. You heaved out a sigh, assuming the wind must’ve hit your shutters or something, and going back to the couch.

Another noise happened after that, but you promptly ignored it, watching movies until you passed out on your couch, a blanket thrown over your body haphazardly.

|___________|

You woke up as your body started to get cold, eyes blinking open to move the blanket over you fully before you spotted a figure looming above you, screaming and throwing a pillow at them. You yanked your body back, heart racing and deafening your ears as you clambered to the couch and sprinted to the kitchen, getting faster when you heard the person’s footsteps.

Yanking out a knife, you held it out threateningly to the person, only for them to hold their hands up, surrendering to you. “Hey- hey, I’m not gonna hurt you. Promise.”

“What are you doing in my house?!” You all but yelled at them.

He let out a breath, shoulders slumping before he pushed his shoulder neck length hair back, stepping up to you, stopping when you wield the knife further, but slowly and cautiously tugging the knife from your hand. “You’re going to hurt yourself before you hurt me with this thing.”

You were rigid, eyes wide at the audacity of the stranger, not that you were able to move given the fear of someone breaking into your house.

He put the knife to the side, far from the both of you, only to take a step back, his hands moving back up again and he offered you an apologetic smile. You stopped him before he could speak though, repeating your question, “What are you doing in my house?”

You took a step to the side, closer to the front door, but he followed you, hands dropping to his sides. “I’d hate to break it to you, but this is technically my house.”

With a beat, you froze. “No…this is my house. It’s in my name.”

“Yet you’re not the one attached to a cabinet and dead, now are you?” He asked you, raising an eyebrow. “If anything, you’re just someone who happened to get stuck being my roommate.”

It took you a moment, but only a moment as your mind pieced together the puzzle, the reason why you felt something there…the reason why you were feeling like you were being watched. “That was you…”

“What was me?”

“All of the times that I felt like I was being watched. That was you? Wasn’t it?” You saw him visibly tense and he offered an apologetic look.

“Guilty. But it was only while you were down here. I rarely go upstairs unless you’re gone,” he said, though it does little to reassure you about anything in this situation. He seemed to have realized this and readjusted his suspenders, then the sleeves of his button up before shoving his hands into his pockets. “Right…so- I’m Axar…”

You took a moment, wondering if you should respond with your own name, but then took the chance to, introducing yourself. He nodded when you said your name, looking about as awkward as you were panicked, letting silence take over before speaking up after a few seconds, “I wasn’t trying to hurt you back there…when you woke up. Your blanket wasn’t on fully so I just thought…”

“You just thought?” You questioned.

“I just thought It’d fix it,” he finished, sighing. “It’s getting colder and this house doesn’t have the best insulation, I didn’t think you needed to get hypothermia.”

You were quiet for a bit, but you nodded. “Yea…thanks, I guess. You just made me colder though…you’re a ghost right?”

He nodded again. “That’s me…ghost, spirit…whatever it’s called.”

“And how long have you been in this house?”

“A while…kinda lost count after fifty years. I came with the cabinet…I’m kinda…attached to it per-se. I never lived in this place until I died and the cabinet was bought for the house. I’ve been here since.” Axar shrugged. “I won’t bother you if you don’t want me, but I wouldn’t expect or hope that I’ll just up and leave…you’re pretty much stuck with me unless you move away like the last owners.”

“They saw you?”

“I didn’t think they’d get home so early. Moved out as soon as they were able to.” He sighed and moved to lean against the doorframe of the dining room. “Now I just kinda stick to nights…”

“Which is why you were out tonight?” He nodded. “Thought you were out completely, so I didn’t think I’d be caught.”

“You were colder than not having the blanket on fully,” you said. “Thought I had to move it myself.”

You shouldn’t be this casual. He’s dead. A ghost. What was wrong with you?

A sorry smile appeared on his face. “Sorry, I can't exactly help the lack of heat. I’m sure it’s good in the summer though.”

You breathed out a little laugh, nodding along. “It probably is. But uh…you said you were attached to the cabinet, right?”

“Mhm,” he hummed. “I don’t know why, but it might have something to do with me being the one that built it.”

“And when’d you build it?” Arax paused, grimacing before looking at the cabinet, then back at you.

“Like a hundred twenty years ago? Give or take.” Your eyebrows raised, eyes widening with them.

“So you’re saying you’re over a hundred twenty?”

“I died when I was twenty-eight so yea…pretty much,” he shrugged again. “Time’s kinda lost when you’re dead, you can never keep track of it and the days sorta just fuse together.”

You almost felt bad for him, having to go for so long without anyone to talk to and just having to sit and watch in the background, attached to something he just happened to build. “Is there any way to get you out?”

“Afraid not, the last owners tried pretty much everything. I’m stuck here. Not exactly the best predicament, but it beats having to haunt a cemetery like a cliche ghost.”

“Oh, like haunting a house isn’t more cliche than haunting a cemetery,” you jested. “At least in a cemetery you’re where you belong.”

He chuckled, shaking his head at you. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“Yea, but thinking I was gonna die really wakes a person up,” you answered, but a yawn snuck up on you.

“Not too awake to stop the yawn though,” Arax commented. “I’ll stay down here if you go upstairs, promise.”

“You’re gonna assume I’m gonna trust the promise of a ghost I just met who was looming over me?” You asked, but snickered and walked past him to clean up your snacks and turn off the tv.

You heard him follow you, but he just stood off to the side and out of your way. “Considering you don’t seem too worried about me, I’m gonna assume and say that I’m alright.”

“That’s the thing with assumptions; you don’t know what the actual answer is.”

“Do you trust me?”

“I’m tired so I’m gonna have to for tonight, but if I die thanks to you and start haunting the place, you’re gonna have to deal with me for all of eternity,” you said, putting the dishes in the sink and throwing the trash away, heading towards the stairs after you finish up. “Don’t be too loud.”

“No promises,” he responded. A little smile appeared on your face and you shook your head, heading up the steps.

|___________|

After half a year, you can confidently say that living with Arax isn’t bad. Sure it was a little weird at first, having a ghost roommate that randomly appears, but he wasn’t as bad as your old living roommates so he was already one of the good ones.

Though, there was that tricky thing called feelings. You would have suspected living with the guy has convoluted what your heart considered a normal friendship, but again, you had roommates in the past. So were you in love with him? You might be. Might.

With a sigh, you sat with your laptop in your lap, staring at the email one of your clients sent you, looking through all of the demands that they’re fortunately paying for thanks to you charging per hour rather than just a fixed price with extras.

Arax sat beside you, tilting his head, but not asking what was wrong. In your time of living with him, he hasn’t once asked about the technology you had, though he definitely sounded his age talking about how he did everything by hand. You assume that with his time being a ghost, he’s kept with the times with each owner, not that there were many.

You glanced over at him, then back at the computer before shutting it and taking the notion that you’d do it later. “Work,” you said simply.

“Ah,” he said, humming before turning further to face you. “What about work?”

“Just work. Don’t feel like doing anything today but if I wanna live here and eat…I kinda have to.” Arax nodded, but moved closer to you and all that did was make you suspicious. “What do you want?”

“Who says I want something?”

“You’re getting closer to me.”

“That doesn’t mean I want something,” he said, mock offended. “But, now that you’re asking, would you mind if you turned on something? I don’t know how to work your remote.”

“Dude, it has four buttons now,” you said, but you relented, turning the tv on and then turning on a show the two of you started a few weeks ago. He grinned at the tv, moving to get closer to it. You didn’t say anything about it, just watched him plop on the floor and watch the tv like an excited kid. Which, if you had to grow up in a time that didn’t have tv and you ended up in a time that did, you’d be excited too.

You relaxed on the couch, stretching out and letting out a small groan when your joints popped. He glanced back at you when they did, shooting you a concerned look, something he did everytime your joints popped. “Stop lookin’ at me like that, there’s no way your joints never popped back then.”

“I didn’t even say anything,” he responded. “Don’t try to kill me again, beau.”

You sighed, watching him look back at the tv as your cheeks flushed red. Beau; that stupid word that made your stomach twist and your heart tug every single time he said it. You loved hearing it, but it was one of the reasons you were so confused with your feelings.

You had asked him once about if he was courting someone before he died, to get a feel about if he had anyone he was wanting to see in the afterlife, but it didn’t come back happily. He had explained that while he tried, he wasn’t really the type most people wanted. You didn’t really understand it, but he explained that he was into anyone and everyone, not exactly caring about how they looked or who they were under their clothes. And once that secret came out to his attempted lovers, it wasn’t exactly good for him. Though, you were able to reassure him pretty easily that it wasn’t his fault or that something was wrong with him. It was actually kind of sweet watching his first reaction to a picture of a pride parade, seeing him see people that were like him.

“You’re not watching,” Arax said, snapping you out of your thoughts, your eyes snapping over to him. “You were zoned out. You ok?”

You nodded. “Yea, I’m fine, just thinking.”

“About?” You parted your lips to say an excuse, but then you got the best idea in the world, hands down. That was just your opinion though.

“Nunna,” you said, watching his brows furrow with a little grin on your face.

“...Nunna?” Arax asked, adorably confused with the word, probably wondering if it was another word he had to learn.

“Nunna business,” you responded almost instantly, your grin widening watching as his confused expression fell and he leaned over to hit your leg.

“Not funny.”

“I thought it was.” You giggled out, nudging his arm. “You’re just old so you don’t think it’s funny.”

His eyes narrowed at you, but he pressed his lips together. Tilting your head, you waited for him to say something snarky in response, but he doesn’t, his features eventually smoothing as he stares at you.

“Do you know your eyes glitter in the sun?” he asked suddenly. You paused and you felt your cheeks get warmer.

“I guess? I wouldn’t say they glitter though.” He stood, sitting beside you before a cold hand grazed your cheek, then grabbed your jaw.

“I would,” Arax said, his face leaning closer. “Your skin is so red…are you warm?”

“Just my cheeks,” you said, but immediately regretted it when he touched your cheeks with his hand, very close now.

“That better?” You nodded and your breathing hitched when you saw his eyes drop down to your lips before going back to your eyes. He pulled his hands away, glancing back to the tv, looking slightly embarrassed, but you decided to take the chance. You only live once, you supposed.

Your warm lips touched his freezing ones and he went rigid at the touch, eyes back on you. Your hands found his head and you moved his head back to face you again, pushing further when his hands found your wrists, returning the action, albeit inexperienced with the movements.

Your heart skipped multiple beats, but you didn’ care, simply smiling against his lips as you pulled back to breathe, biting at your lip as you looked at him again, chest heaving only a little.

With the way that he looked awestruck, you would’ve assumed that if he had a bloodflow, he would be as red as you were. “Wow…”

You laughed, nodding. “Yea…wow.”

He waited a couple seconds, staring at your lips all the while before looking back into your eyes. “Can we do that again? Please?”

Your smile widened and you nodded again, letting him lean forward this time, your back hitting the back of the couch of his hands found your waist as he kissed you. You kissed back, hands moving down to his shoulders as he got even closer to you.

There was no might. You were definitely in love with him.

Now how do you start a relationship with a ghost…?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Part Two

#This is getting a second part cause I wanted to get it out by halloween lmao #original writing #writing #monster lover #monster x human #monsterfucker #monster fucker #monster romance #exophilia #gender neutral reader #gn reader #x reader #human x monster #terato tag #teratophillia #ghost #ghost x reader #monster boy #male monster #monster #monster bf #monster boyfriend #monster fucking #monster fudger #monster love #monster oc #monster x reader #monsters #tw monsterfucking #Arax

[howlsnteeth]

i haven't been sleeping at night so i've come up with an extremely detailed creature who i've called chri (pronounced similar to "tree") and a monster species which she's an outlier from

#i mean the biggest thing is that she's learned to mimic speech when the rest of her species can't do that #also she's fucking huge/unnaturally pale/has a larger 'antler' spread than others + usually males have that #idk how to tag this uhhh #horror art #monster art #oc #chri

[ensen-joy]

Cross-post of a commission from Twitter, faceless monster dude mpreg. Featuring some tit milk to really edge Tumblr's censoring thingy.

Really liked doing this one 'cus of the different skin tones - so not only could I use different shaders but also the white belly has a lot more contrast against darker skin bits.

#mpreg #mpreg art #monster boy #belly kink #belly expansion #male lactation #we throw tags against the wall until they stick babyy

[heartfullofleeches]

For the cafe. What would everyone's reactions to the reader falling asleep while on shift. Either in a booth with a customer or in the breakroom. I love the hybrid cafe and everyone in it. Also if this the second time you see this it is just incase Tumblr decides to delete my ask

Scout(Bear) [Wolfman]:

Covers you with his jacket and tells off anyone who tries to come near or wakes you up. Not as obsessive with the pictures as you'll see with others, but takes one for his lock screen. Might lay down with you if you're in a private room - and hum a tune his grandmother sang for him as a pup

Pauline(Belle) [Cow]:

Also shields you from the rest, but there's a small chance she'll scoop you up and into the seat of her truck. No one really tries to stop her since most know you're friends, and her size

Clyde(Spot) [Rabbit]:

So cute! Sneaks a couple pictures; maybe even sneaks a cuddle or kiss to your cheek if he's feel bold. Posts it to his social media as nobody follows him vaguely describing you as his love, but quickly deletes it once it gets a single like

Shanna(Bo) [Sheep]:

Takes it as a time to show off how well she works around the shop. Cleans up the entire store and break room, while preparing a drink for when you wake up. Might whisper a few words of praise for all your hardwork and that you deserve the rest, but quickly scampers away if you stir

Saber [Catboy]:

Takes a million pictures, most with him in frame. Kisses you all over, but saves your lips for later. Would kidnap you too if he had belle's strength or wouldn't be as easily caught. Has the other maids bring tons of pillows and blankets, and an extra tea to celebrate having you all to himself while you rest.

#Cafe tag #yandere oc #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere insert #male yandere #yandere blurb #yandere x you #yandere x reader #female yandere #yandere drabble #yandere teratophilia #yandere monster #yandere hybrid #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #tw yandere

[fulgurbugs]

Opening the 2024 Howliday draculaura and clawd!

i got these two preordered a little bit back, when i realized that they were selling faster than say, winter clawdeen and would probably not go on sale like her before they were gone. so i preordered them, and once the 26 hit they were extremely quick to get to me, with me getting them shipped and delivered same day. here they are in box!

different backdrop today, i opened them downstairs, instead of in my room

i am planning on putting this adorable box into storage so i was more careful in opening it up. on the back we have the collector certificate, as well as two stands

once again, we have more of these infuriatingly terrible plastic head tabs. i’m gonna need them to find some other way to do this, because every time i’m scared that i’m going to cut a dolls hair. they’re the worst.

here’s them freed from their prison! first impressions are, as usual, the ghouls outsell the mansters, unfortunately. however, i do still really enjoy what they’ve gone with for this clawd. tbf bell bottoms and funky patterns are such a serve, and more interesting that the safer choice of a suit or something. i think i would have gone with black for the mesh top, though. it might make it a little more cohesive. the other thing is i feel like clawd needs just one more accessory. maybe a gold necklace? just something. for draculaura i absolutely love her outfit as well, but honestly i though it might have been really cute if the red bodice of her dress was the same pattern as one of clawds clothing pieces too. i really love the silhouette of this dress a lot, though.

the shoes. they’re very detailed molds. with lots of stitch detailing on clawd’s adb a moon detail on the side, and draculauras heel-less heels are very valentines but make it spiderweb. with of course, adorable bat wings. the shoes are both completely solid colors, however.

here’s a random thing i was seeing that i wanted to make sure i made a note of. in clawds stock images, his wrists were edited to look like they were smooth and unarticulated. they are articulated, however, so it seems like kind of a bizarre choice on the photo editors part. draculaura’s hands are cast in black to give the appearance of gloves, with little plastic cuffs on her arms. they do not have a gap when you pull them down.

here’s the accessories! they come with a rose and a coffin-shaped gift box, a bag for draculaura, and a parasol. also rubber banded in like accessories were these little paper valentines hearts, though i’m not sure what to do with them. they’re very cute, though, and clawds one to draculaura is also for her birthday, which is valentine’s day!

with accessories! i couldn’t really find a good way for clawd to hold the box, but he holds the roses fine. the parasol comes with an additional piece that attaches to the stand to hold it up, so that draculaura can look like she’s carrying it.

facesss! clawd has a longer mohawk of short curly hair, while the sides are flocked. i think i might have liked to see a little facial hair on him? like maybe some painted sideburn details. or even some more intense eye makeup. he does look a little bit plain

draculaura! her signature heart has a moon in it for clawd, which is super adorable. i love the lip colors they went with for her as well,

and that’s the 2024 valentines howliday two pack! faboolous pets drac has found a new spot at the bottom shelf, where i’ve given clawdeen back to her, since if clawd can come to the draculaura shelf clawdeen is allowed as well. they’re not chilling on the bottom and i’ve decided the top shelf will have my g1 style ghouls on it for now. thanks for reading!

#dux doll tag #dux doll review #monster high #this is my first male doll ever lmao. welcome to the shelf of gfs clawd #(i kinda wanna get a g3 clawd but probably only if he goes on heavy clearance)

[mxnsterbabe]

Male Troll/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 3,343 Tags & Warnings: plus size monster Part One (here) | Part Two (coming soon!) Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

You’re an escort, but the last thing you expected was to fall for your favourite client.

You pause outside the sleek facade of the restaurant, the cool evening air caressing your skin. Glancing at your phone one last time, you scroll through Sorrel's profile, absorbing every detail. Sorrel, an unusual name for an even more unusual client.

Trolls rarely make their way into the heart of the city, preferring the solitude of their natural dwellings. Yet here you are, about to meet one for dinner in one of the most upscale places in town.

Your job often demands a chameleon-like ability to adapt, to mould yourself into whatever your clients desire. A laugh here, a sympathetic nod there, all performed with the ease of a well-rehearsed play.

Sorrel's request is refreshingly simple: just company, and above all, authenticity. It's both refreshing and daunting. How long has it been since you were asked to simply be yourself?

Taking a deep breath, you tuck your phone away. Your reflection in the restaurant's glass doors gives you a moment's pause—a young woman, elegantly dressed, poised on the edge of an unfamiliar encounter.

With a final steadying breath, you push the door open and step into the warm, amber-lit interior.

A pretty waitress, with a smile as polished as the cutlery, guides you through the restaurant when you enter. The beauty of the place unfolds around you; all soft lighting and hushed tones. Chandeliers cast a golden glow over tables draped in pristine white linen, each adorned with delicate glassware and silver.

The murmur of conversation blends with the gentle clinking of dishes, and soft, classical music plays. It doesn’t strike you as the kind of place a troll would like; they’re known for their love of natural living, not fine-dining.

As you take in the opulence, a flutter of self-consciousness washes over you. The elegance of your surroundings makes you feel suddenly underdressed, and you can't help but wonder about Sorrel. The cost of dining here must be astronomical; does he intend to make a statement, perhaps to showcase you as a trophy of his affluence?

As you approach the booth, you see him. Sorrel is a striking figure, a hulking presence that commands the space around him. His mossy green hair, a wild, natural crown, complements the dense fur that covers his body. His eyes, sharp and discerning, fix on you, and there's an intelligence in his gaze that belies the brutish stereotype of his kind. Despite the tailored suit that strains slightly against his muscular frame, there's no disguising the power in his broad shoulders, the soft curve of his belly. The suit, while elegant, seems almost a concession to human norms, doing little to mask his inherent, rugged appeal.

A wave of unexpected attraction washes over you, stirring a flush of excitement in your stomach. It's an odd sensation, this pull towards someone so different.

Gathering your composure, you slide into the booth, the soft leather cool against your skin. The space between you and Sorrel crackles with an energy as you offer a gentle smile.

"Hello," you begin, your voice well-rehearsed. You're acutely aware of your posture, the calculated tilt of your head, the practiced smile. Sorrel asked for authenticity, but it’s difficult when faced with such an imposing man.

Sorrel's response, however, is not what you anticipate. His voice, deep and resonant, carries a gentleness that seems at odds with his formidable appearance. "Good evening," he rumbles, his sharp eyes softening. "I hope the night finds you well."

As he speaks, the tension in your shoulders begins to ebb. There's a sincerity in his words, a vulnerability that peeks through the confident exterior.

With a smile, you turn to the menu. You hesitate, the array of exquisite dishes foreign and intimidating. There are a lot of words, and a lot of words that you don’t understand.

Maybe sensing your uncertainty, Sorrel leans in. His hands brush against yours, and the warmth of him makes you shiver..

"The risotto is my favourite. The salmon, too - it’s this one here, at the bottom."

You glance up at him, face flushed. You’ve been on countless escort jobs, and it’s always just been that. A job. Yet, as you soak in Sorrel’s warmth, his fur tickling your palm, something stirs inside you.

The words stick in the back of your throat as a waitress arrives. All you can do is nod in agreement as Sorrel makes a suggestion, and the waitress departs with your order.

There's a lull in the conversation, a moment of silence as you take in the man before you. "I must admit," you find yourself saying, breaking the quiet with a nervous laugh, "I didn't expect someone like you to be in a place like this." The words are out before you can stop them, and a flush of embarrassment warms your cheeks. "I mean, I made assumptions based on... well, what I thought I knew about trolls. I'm sorry."

Sorrel's laughter, rich and warm, fills the space between you. "No offense taken," he assures, his smile genuine. "I often find myself frequenting these types of restaurants. The same way the forest holds its charm, so does a well-crafted dish or a beautifully composed piece of music."

"I've not had the chance to dine in places as grand as this very often," you admit with a laugh, the restaurant's opulence still wrapping around you like a soft blanket. "It's a rare treat. You must do quite well for yourself, Sorrel. What is it that you do?"

Sorrel sets his glass down, the light catching the deep green of his eyes. "I left my clan some years ago," he begins, his voice solemn now. "We had... differing views on how to engage with the expanding human world. I believed in integration, in finding a way to coexist beneficially."

You lean in, captivated by his story, the depth of his conviction. "So, what did you do?"

"I started my own company," he says, a hint of pride in his voice. "We specialize in eco-friendly construction materials. It sounds dull, I know, but it’s something I care about."

Your chest flutters. "That's incredible," you respond, genuinely impressed. "Although, I’m sorry about your family.

He shrugs. “Don’t be, it’s been a long time since I’ve been back home.”

The arrival of the meal serves as a delicious interruption, and the garlicky, savoury smell makes your mouth water. The risotto you chose under Sorrel's recommendation is creamy and rich, with the earthy aroma of truffles enveloping you. Sorrel's salmon is presented with an artistry that matches the taste, the fish's delicate flesh flaking at the touch of his fork.

"This is incredible," you murmur, savouring each bite, your previous apprehensions about the evening melting away with the flavors on your tongue.

Sorrel smiles, watching you with a contented gaze that makes your heart flutter. "I'm glad you're enjoying it."

You smile, delving in, beginning to forget that this isn’t a real date. As you eat, the conversation meanders from the culinary arts to travel, to the hidden corners of the world each of you dreams of exploring. He’s a traveller, like you, although he’s visited places you could never dream of.

As the main course plates are cleared away, Sorrel suggests a dessert to share, a classic tiramisu that promises to be as light as air. When it arrives, you both lean in, the spoon Sorrel hands you brushing against his, sending a spark of electricity through you. You scoop a small portion, the dessert's creamy layers dissolving instantly on your tongue, and you can't help but close your eyes in appreciation.

"Good?" Sorrel asks, his voice low and tinged with amusement.

"More than," you reply, opening your eyes to find his gaze lingering on you with an intensity that quickens your pulse.

It's easy, in the soft lighting and over the shared sweetness of dessert, to forget the nature of how this evening came to be.

It's only when the waiter discreetly presents the bill that reality nudges you back into your role. Sorrel doesn't hesitate, reaching for his wallet with a grace that belies his size.

"How would you prefer the payment?" he asks, his tone casual but with a hint of something more, perhaps a reluctance for the evening to end in such a transactional manner.

The question jolts you back to the present, a reminder of the professional boundary that, for a fleeting moment, had seemed all but erased. "A bank transfer would be fine, thank you," you manage to say, your voice steady despite the way your stomach twists.

As you stand to leave, the warmth of the restaurant's ambiance contrasts sharply with the cool detachment now settling over you. Sorrel escorts you to the exit, his presence as reassuring as it is imposing.

At the doorway, you turn to him, the night air cool on your skin. "Thank you, Sorrel, for a truly wonderful evening," you say, sincerity lacing your words.

"Thank you," he replies, and something like regret flickers in his eyes.

On impulse, you rise on your toes and place a gentle kiss on his cheek. It's a small gesture, but it carries the weight of all the evening's revelations, his fur soft against your neck.

“Goodbye, Sorrel.”

“Goodbye. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

As you part ways, the night swallowing his towering figure, you're left with a warmth that no chill can dispel. The memory of the evening, of Sorrel, lingers like a sweet aftertaste, leaving you wondering just how you’re supposed to forget about him.

***

A week slips by, quieter than usual, leading you to pick up part-time shifts at a local hotel to fill the gaps. The monotony of the days contrasts sharply with the vivid memory of your evening with Sorrel, which lingers no matter how much you try to forget.

When a new request pops up on the escort site from Sorrel, your heart leaps. The anticipation, the unexpected thrill of seeing him again, infuses your routine with a newfound energy. Preparations for your meeting are made with a care and attention you hadn't realized you'd been missing.

The park chosen for your rendezvous is entirely different to the opulent restaurant of your first encounter. As the evening draws in, the tranquility of the park, with its towering trees and the soft murmur of the evening breeze, soothes your nerves.

You spot Sorrel at the agreed-upon spot, his imposing figure somehow at peace among the natural surroundings. Today, he’s wearing a more casual fitted black shirt that hugs his generous curves.

His face lights up as he sees you approach, a genuine smile spreading across his features.

"It's wonderful to see you again," he greets, his voice carrying a warmth that wraps around you like a comforting embrace.

"The feeling's mutual, Sorrel," you reply, your own smile reflecting your genuine happiness. "I wasn't sure if you'd... well, want to meet again."

"Why wouldn't I?" he asks, his tone laced with genuine confusion and a hint of amusement. "Our last evening together was more enjoyable than I've had in a long time. I've been looking forward to this all week."

Your heart flutters at his words. It’s your job, you know, to be liked - but hearing it from him sends a thrill through you.

"I'm glad,” you say. “I've thought a lot about our last, er, date."

Sorrel's gaze softens, the park's gentle evening light casting a serene glow over his features. "I've found myself doing the same. There's a simplicity in your company, a peace I've come to... crave."

The admission hangs between you. It's clear that the bond formed over that dinner has only deepened with time, but you have to wonder if this feels all a little too real.

"Would you like to take a walk?" Sorrel suggests, gesturing to the winding path that leads deeper into the park.

"I'd like that," you agree, and together, you begin to walk. You link an arm through his, enjoying how big and sturdy he is. It’s difficult to resist the urge to lean in close, soaking up the scent of his cologne.

The park around you is quiet, the occasional rustle of leaves and distant sounds of the city the only interruptions to the silence.

As you walk alongside Sorrel, the proximity and the gentle brush of his hand against yours send ripples of excitement through you. Each step seems to synchronize with the beating of your heart, a rhythm that echoes the growing closeness between you. The thrill of all surprises you, and you find yourself leaning deeper against his plush side.

The small talk that fills the air between you is comfortable, and you find yourself eagerly listening to Sorrel’s deep, rumbling voice. You chat about the park, and the mundane details of your respective weeks. Yet, beneath the surface, there's a tension, as if there’s something more floating beneath the surface.

It's Sorrel who breaks the veil of casual conversation, his voice taking on a more somber tone. "You know, I've always found myself caught between two worlds," he begins, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. "In the city, I'm too troll for most people to understand. Among my own kind, my views, my... aspirations make me an outsider. Too modern for my own kind, but too different for everybody else."

You listen, your heart aching at the vulnerability he's willing to share. The loneliness of his position between two worlds, becomes achingly clear.

"That's part of why I sought your company initially," he continues, his voice barely above a whisper. "I needed to feel understood, even if it was just for a moment, even if it had to be... bought."

The honesty of his admission strikes a chord within you, the professional facade crumbling further with each word.

"Now," Sorrel pauses, taking a deep breath, "my mother is ill. She's asked me to come home."

The weight of his words hangs in the air, heavy with the gravity of his decision. The silence that follows is filled with a thousand unasked questions, each one a reflection of the complexity of his situation and the depth of your concern for him.

"What will you do?" you find yourself asking, the question laden with more than professional curiosity. It's a question born of a connection that's deepened beyond expectation, a genuine concern for his well-being.

Sorrel stops walking, turning to face you. In the fading light, his expression is a mix of resolve and uncertainty, green eyes thoughtful.

"I don't know," he admits, and in that moment, the vulnerability he displays, the raw honesty of his predicament, draws you even closer.

You stay quiet, allowing him a moment to think.

Sorrel's gaze drifts away for a moment, lost in thought, as if he's trying to piece together the puzzle of his future right there in front of you. "I think I need to go back," he says finally, his voice steady but tinged with a hint of resignation. "I want to be there for her, help her heal. She's always been the anchor of our clan, and without her strength..."

He trails off, the weight of his responsibilities, of his love for his family, evident in the pause. "Once she's well, perhaps I'll return to the city. Or perhaps not. The truth is, I don't know where I truly belong."

The vulnerability in his admission, the open-ended nature of his future, pulls at something deep within you. You reach out, almost instinctively, your hand finding his. The touch is electric, and you let out a muffled sigh.

"It sounds like you've got a tough road ahead," you say, your voice soft but full of empathy. "Being there for your family, making sure your mother has everything she needs to recover... it's a beautiful thing to do, Sorrel. It speaks a lot about the kind of person you are."

He looks at you then, really looks at you, and in his eyes, you see a mixture of gratitude and something else, something deeper.

"Thank you," he whispers, and there's a warmth in his voice that wraps around you like a comforting embrace. "For understanding, for... for being here with me now."

The moment stretches between you. So does the quiet. The world around you fades into the background, leaving only the heavy thrum of your pulse in your ears.

"You should do what's best for you," you find yourself saying, your words laced with an unspoken sadness at the thought of his departure. "Your family needs you, and it's clear your heart is with them, too."

Sorrel squeezes your hand gently, a silent acknowledgment of the truth in your words. "I guess I always knew my path would lead me back home, eventually."

A twinge of disappointment tugs at your heart as the reality of Sorrel's impending departure settles in. Despite the professional boundaries you should adhere to, you can't deny the longing that has blossomed between you. Yet, beneath the layers of what-ifs, you find resignation setting in.

As you both resume walking, the conversation gently shifts, weaving through lighter topics. You admit, you’re grateful for the change of topic.

You share stories of your travels, the places Sorrel has been, places you’d love to go.

"I've always wanted to visit Thailand," you mention wistfully, the image of crystal-clear waters and verdant landscapes painting your words. "The culture, the food, the beaches... it seems like a world away from here."

Sorrel listens intently, his interest genuine. "Thailand is beautiful," he agrees, "you should go sometime."

The conversation takes an unexpected turn when Sorrel, with a look of determination, insists on paying you extra for your time. "Consider it a contribution towards your Thailand adventure," he says, his tone brooking no argument.

You hesitate, aghast at the number when you check your bank account. Three-thousand dollars. The offer touching yet tinged with the finality of a parting gift.

"Sorrel, that's too generous, I can't—"

"Please," he interrupts, his voice soft but firm. "Let this be my way of ensuring you get to experience the beauty of the world. You deserve it."

The sincerity in his eyes, coupled with the depth of gratitude you feel, crumbles your resistance. "Thank you," you say, the words barely a whisper, laden with a mix of emotions. "I'll never forget this."

You don’t know what else to say; but as it is, you don’t need to.

As you stand there, on the brink of farewell, Sorrel leans in. His kiss is unexpected but fervently returned as you stand on your toes, arms looping around his wide, plush waist. His lips are firm against yours, nipping at you with a passion that ignites a fire within you, the heat of his touch searing through the cool night air.

The kiss deepens, and for a moment, the world falls away, leaving only the two of you locked together, pulse racing.

As the kiss ends, a lingering warmth remains. You stand there, caught in the afterglow, the night air now charged with longing.

Sorrel's gaze holds yours, a myriad of unspoken words swirling in the depths of his eyes. "This... This was unexpected," he murmurs, the raw honesty in his voice mirroring the vulnerability in his gaze.

You nod, a gentle smile curving your lips despite the ache in your chest. "The best things usually are," you reply, your voice soft, laced with the bittersweet tang of parting.

There's a pause, a moment suspended in time, before you lean in for one final kiss. This one is softer,, a whisper of a goodbye in the brief touch of lips.

With a light-heartedness that feels forced, you step back and offer a playful smile. "Keep in touch, okay?" The words slip out, half in jest, half in hope, even as you understand the impossibility of the request.

Sorrel's smile is tinged with a gentle sadness, an acknowledgment of the unlikelihood of such a promise. "I'll remember this," he says, his voice a low rumble, rich with emotion. "I'll remember you."

You know, from the snippets of his life he's shared, that returning to his clan means stepping away from the world as you know it. The isolation of his people, their disconnection from the modern trappings of communication, almost brings tears to your eyes.

As you part ways, the echo of his final words lingers in your heart. The night wraps around you, and you shudder.

You hope to see him again someday. Somehow, you have the feeling that you will.

#exophilia fiction #exophilia #monster fucker #monster boyfriend #monster romance #monster x reader #tag: mxf #tag: male monster #tag: female reader #tag: sfw #tag: troll #tag: plus size #trying something new bc some people like present tense?? #think i'll stick to past tense tbh

[cherrychan-0110]

I never finish the red doodle pages

#harmony and horror #harmony & horror #h&h #harmony n horror #battington tapes #franklin norway #detective stewart #harold stewart #storway #arthur greywhinder #harmony and horror au #harmony and horror oc #oc tags > #harmony and horror mari #mari faucher #vampire mari #h&h monster au #doodles #sketches #snake franklin #idk what I should name male mari 😭 #h&h snake au

[spriteofmushrooms]

Please tell me about your pregnant JC thoughts, I am so interested in them.

Jiang Cheng becoming pregnant due to some sort of activation within the golden core? Classic. LOVE the idea of a chengxian baby who looks like Wei Wuxian and not Mo Xuanyu. It would break Jiang Cheng's heart every single day. Love the idea of Wei Wuxian avoiding Jiang Cheng so thoroughly post-canon that he only sees their child years later, when the resemblance is undeniable. Abandoned Madonna Jiang Cheng holding his son... Delightful.

Jiang Cheng being cursed with pregnancy and refusing to be cured because he misses having a baby? Ohh he's so fucking ready to play Rosemary. Of course he'll love his monstrous child. He's full of love. 💖 And blood, if his baby needs it! 🥰

Cursed to a sex swap? Jiang Cheng doesn't really care because it's not like it matters (my grubby little genderweird hands are all over this headcanon), but then, MAXIMUM fifteen minutes in, he stops dead in his tracks and places his hands over his belly. "I can have a baby. A-Ling, would you like a little cousin? I can have a baby."

(WWX: Aren't you forgetting something?

JC: No, people often want to have sex with me; I only need to find someone responsible. It's not like we have to get married.

WWX, who died a virgin and still thinks JC is 9 years old: WHAT?)

Omega Jiang Cheng? He would be sooo happy to have a warm, safe nest he rebuilt by hand. All of Lotus Pier is to his specification! Everything is by his design! IMAGINE the coziness that an omega Jiang Cheng would have established at every level in the family wing. How many bedrooms did he build for his future children, eight? That would be bad for your cultivation, Jiang Cheng...

He would be such a good mommy. (He is such a good mommy, but I don't think he lets himself take credit for any of Jin Ling's strengths.)

#pallas.rtf #mdzs #hi anon #mpreg #pregnancy #i also think it would be psychologically soothing for him to be able to breastfeed his children #like the monster baby who drinks his blood i think it would resolve the need he has to give of himself to the ones he loves #at least partly #... #lactation #male lactation #all the tags today lads

[soft5ku11]

Yeah so what if i drew Damien's (hot) dad? let me live ok

#fat art #my art #stn tag #fat stan lavey #stan lavey weight gain #weight gain art #male weight gain #male weight gain art #monster prom weight gain #idk anymore tagging is becoming a chore smh

[boyybites]

Happy Halloween!!!

Thought I'd draw my girl and her boy for spooky season considering she's a ghost and all.

#art tag #exophilia #monster girl #ghost #ghost girl #ghost oc #oc #oc art #monster oc #black oc #black character #oc: charlotte #oc: antonne #halloween #halloween 2022 #comic #short comic #comic tag #black male character #black male oc

[gay-otlc]

hi honest sincere question how can a man be a lesbian? can amab men be lesbians?

Hi! Thanks for asking respectfully. I am going to answer your question in significantly more detail than you probably wanted. Be warned.

The main reason I think men can be lesbians is: I think people can use whatever words they think most accurately describe their identity and/or experience. These words might not necessarily be words that they are, but still words that they use to describe themselves.

Lesbian does have a lot of feminine connotations, and can cause dysphoria for many men, so men who use both terms have often put a lot of thought into it. I might not understand their reasons, but I'm sure they have their reasons.

You don't need to understand to be respectful, but if you're curious, here is an explanation of why some men choose to identify as lesbians. This got so long that I'm dividing it with subtitles. I'm so sorry if you didn't want to read all this.

Lesbian Trans Men

Men who identify as lesbians tend to be trans men. Of course, wanting to use the label lesbian is a minority of trans men who like women! Definitely don't assume all trans mlw are comfortable being called a lesbian, or call a trans man a lesbian without permission.

At least for me, labels describe how I feel in the present but also the way I have experienced gender and attraction throughout my life. Right now I'm a man who's attracted to women, but at lunch today I was talking about how it felt in middle school to be a "girl" who liked girls, and I used the word lesbian to communicate that.

Trans men who have spent a very long time identifying as a lesbian and being a part of the lesbian community, often decades, might continue using the label lesbian after transitioning. If a trans man feels like he spent his life as a lesbian rather than a straight man, the former might feel most accurate to describe his experience.

Trans men might also identify as lesbian due to being in the closet. Internally, I feel more like a straight man, but that's not really how I'm seen by the rest of the world. I'm out to a few close friends offline, but pretty much all my other classmates or teachers or relatives or acquaintances think of me as a woman.

If I called myself straight, that would most likely be interpreted as me being a straight woman. I'm open about liking women, though, which means I would either have to be out as lesbian or bi. I definitely shouldn't call myself bi, because I'm not attracted to multiple genders. So, I go with lesbian. It's not the perfect label, but it gets the point across. (The point being "I think women are hot.")

Male =/= Solely, Always, Exclusively Male

Men who are lesbians are not always exclusively men. Multigender people exist! I'm one of them. If someone is bigender with those genders being a man and a woman, and they're attracted to women, I don't think it really makes sense to say that they can't be a lesbian.

I'm assuming you (anon) support nonbinary lesbians, since that's the general trend I've noticed among those who are trans-inclusive but don't understand male lesbians. Some nonbinary people will also identify as men. If nonbinary people can be lesbians, nonbinary men can be lesbians.

A genderfluid person might sometimes be a man and sometimes be another gender(s) that are more commonly included in lesbianism, and like women, and use both labels.

This could apply to anyone regardless of assigned gender, so those are some examples of how a man assigned male at birth could be a lesbian.

AMAB Male Lesbians

As for whether men who were AMAB can be lesbians... yes, but I want to clarify that not just any cis man should go "lol I'm a lesbian" because it's funny. Someone would need to put thought into why the feel like lesbian is the best label for them.

In the case of a man who was AMAB, they would probably feel like lesbian is a good descriptor due to having a complex relationship with their gender. Being genderqueer and being an AMAB man or AFAB woman are not mutually exclusive.

Gender Non Conformity

There's a type of identity that I believe is referred to as a cusp identity, or something like that? It is where someone might blur the line or exist in the grey area between two different identities with an overlap in a lot of experiences.

There might be someone who is on the cusp right between being a trans woman and an extremely gender nonconforming man. They might not be sure which one they fall into, or feel like they exist right in the middle. This person might identify simultaneously as or right between "lesbian trans woman" and "feminine presenting cishet man."

There are also some people who identify with their assigned gender, but pursue medical transition in a way typically associated with a different gender. I have a friend who identifies fully as a cis woman, but thinks she might want to get bottom surgery. It's a type of gender nonconformity, you know?

I don't know anyone who's had this experience in reverse, but it's definitely possible. I'm sure there's a cis man out there somewhere who has or wants to medically transition to "female." And I think it would make sense if this hypothetical person wanted to identify as a lesbian.

Trans Women

Just to be clear, I am NOT saying trans women are men. They aren't. (Unless they're multigender, which is cool.) But monogender trans women aren't men, and definitely should not be misgendered.

Similar to how a straight trans man might be closeted and call himself a lesbian, a lesbian trans woman might be closeted and call herself a man. Again, this lesbian trans woman wouldn't be a man. However, a she might refer to herself as a man to stay safe, or just because she's not comfortable being out yet, but might also refer to herself as a lesbian online or around a few people she's close with. She's not actually a lesbian man, but using both labels would still be enough to get cancelled by those violently against male lesbians.

Some trans women might also still be eggs (not yet realize they're trans). I know that prior to coming out as trans, some gay trans people have said something like "I'm a man, but I want to be in a lesbian relationship" or "I'm a girl and I love reading mlm fanfiction, I like to imagine myself as one of the characters." A trans woman just beginning to explore gender could identify or want to identify with being a lesbian, while still not fully realizing she's not a man. Again- not actually a man, but someone who might use both labels.

Arguments Against Lesbian Men

Now, I know there are a lot of reasons this is controversial, and some of them are even in good faith. However, they are still misguided.

"It's Misgendering Trans Men"

Many people are opposed to trans men being lesbians because they're trans men and would feel dysphoric if called a lesbian, or are an ally and don't want trans men to be misgendered.

That's a very understandable concern, but see my earlier note about not calling a trans man a lesbian without permission.

Trans men aren't a monolith, and everyone's comfortable with different things. Some trans men are comfortable wearing dresses and some trans men are comfortable being called "sis" or "queen" or something, but many aren't, and that's all okay!

I think people just need to be clear that even though some trans men are okay with this, it doesn't apply to all trans men.

"Cishet Men Will Pretend To Be Lesbians"

Another reason people are against male lesbians is because they're concerned cis straight men will call themselves lesbians for no reason other than they think it's funny, or they want to make lesbians uncomfortable. Which I agree; that's shitty, and they shouldn't do that.

But I feel like most of the time, they do make it pretty clear they don't genuinely identify as a lesbian. People with complex or contradicting identities generally understand that their labels don't make a lot of sense at first glance, so they tend to offer a short explanation. They have no obligation to go on and on defending their right to exist, but a sentence or two is good and most people are totally willing to provide that.

I've had friends ask about me being both a trans man and a lesbian, and I've given a short explanation, and it works! Because they aren't assholes! The main one that comes to mind happened shortly after I told my best friend I was changing my name, and it went something like this.

Me, after seeing a pretty girl: Oh my god, I'm so gay for her. Friend: Do you still identify as gay? I thought you might want to be called straight now, since you're a trans guy. Me: I'm, like, both a man and a woman? So lesbian and straight man are both fine with me. Friend: Okay, cool. Let me know if you decide you don't want to be called lesbian anymore since I don't want to make you feel dysphoric.

And then that was it! It wasn't a big deal. With just a short conversation, I established that I was a lesbian man because I'm bigender and not because I'm just saying it for the lols.

I do understand the desire to stop cishet men from making lesbian jokes, but the thing is, there's no reliable way to do so that won't also end up harming some queer people. I mean, TERFs argue that trans women can't be lesbians because then what's to stop a straight man from invading the lesbian community by falsely claiming he's a trans woman, you know? But just because some people might abuse other queer peoples' genuine identity, doesn't mean no one can use that identity.

"They're Invading Lesbian Spaces"

Those against male lesbians are trying to stop men from invading lesbian spaces. While I agree that lesbian spaces should be for lesbians, and I think it's wrong for people to attend an all-lesbian support group or something if they know they're not a lesbian, I also know I can't stop them.

What are we supposed to do, go around forcing everyone there to prove they are a Real Actual Lesbian? Who decides what a Real Actual Lesbian is? How do we verify if people are telling the truth on the questions asked to prove Real Actual Lesbian? Keeping 100% of non lesbians out of lesbian spaces just isn't a feasible goal and it's not fair to make everyone prove their identity like that.

If someone in a lesbian safe space is causing any harm to others, they should be kicked out, but this applies even if they are a Real Actual Lesbian. Lesbians are perfectly capable of hurting other lesbians and being a lesbian doesn't give them a free pass to get out of consequences.

Male Lesbians Are Rapists

An extension of the "invading lesbian spaces" arguments is that lesbian men are forcing or pressuring lesbians to date or sleep with men.

However, lesbian men don't necessarily expect or even want other lesbians to be attracted to them. Lesbians don't have to be attracted to every other lesbian in the world! Sometimes, people don't find another person attractive, and that's fine. Sometimes, people are not attracted to a certain gender, and someone of that gender being a lesbian won't change that.

I'm not attracted to nonbinary people, and there are plenty of nonbinary lesbians, and I'm not attracted to them. Which is fine! Them being lesbians doesn't mean I have to be attracted to them, and me not being attracted to them doesn't make them not lesbians. Accepting someone as their identity doesn't mean you have to find them attractive.

I might be attracted to a lesbian and ask her out, and she might respond "Sorry, I'm not attracted to men and since you're bigender I wouldn't be comfortable sleeping with you."

What I would not say: "But I'm a lesbian! You accepted me into your lesbian safe space, which means you have to sleep with me. Checkmate."

What I would say: "I understand, have a nice day."

In the above scenario, if someone in that situation refused to accept that the lesbian woman wasn't attracted to them, that would be shitty no matter what. It would be shitty if that person was a male lesbian, and it would be shitty if that person was a cis woman. Because it is shitty to not respect people's boundaries.

This isn't something only lesbian men are capable of doing. Most lesbian men are perfectly respectful people who would not rape anyone, and if they do? They're shitty, but they're not shitty because they're a lesbian man. They're shitty because they're a rapist.

Claiming that someone would lie about their gender identity to rape people is entry-level transphobia. You cannot believe "male lesbians are just lying so they can rape lesbians" and then call yourself a trans ally. They are mutually exclusive.

Political Lesbianism

Finally, this argument is derived from TERF rhetoric. If you're not familiar with political lesbianism, it's a radical feminist ideology that can be summarized by "don't date or fuck men." Being a lesbian was a feminist choice that wasn't necessarily about attraction to women, but about not being involved with men. This sounds quite a lot like the common lesbian definition used against male lesbians; "non men loving non men." A major component of TERFism is trying to keep men (or those they believe to be men) away from women's/lesbian spaces, and including trans women doesn't change the fact that the ideologies stem from the exact same place. There have been anti male lesbian posts that genuinely sound exactly like a TERF wrote them, which is pretty telling. If you're violently against any men ever being lesbians, odds are you've been drinking the TERF juice, and you probably need to unpack that.

Conclusion

This is ridiculously long and I have been writing it for the last two and a half hours. I am very thankful and also kind of apologetic to anyone who just read every single word I vomited out.

Basically, even if you disagree with someone using both "man" and "lesbian" to label themself, I would recommend leaving them alone. They're describing their identity in the way that works best for them, and they're not hurting anyone. You don't need to like their identity, and you definitely don't need to understand it, but you do need to be respectful. It costs $0 to not be an asshole.

If you're considering telling a lesbian man their identity is invalid, take my advice and simply... don't do that. There are so many other things you could do with your time.

The queer community has a lot of problems. The world in general has even more problems. In the grand scheme of things, someone identifying as a male lesbian literally does not matter.

That's finally all, thanks for reading.

#anon i am so fucking sorry you did NOT sign up for this monster of an essay #rip #also to clarify most of the time when i said you i wasn't talking to anon specifically #just a general you #i know it's confusing so yeah wanted to make sure that was clear #lesbian trans men #lesbian men #male lesbian #multigender lesbian #idk what other things i should tag #lesbian #pride tag #okay i will shut up now