#monsterfucker confessions

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

started thinking about a bottoming werewolf just imagine it, the poor beast in rut/heat whimpering for a cock to fill one of their holes and fill them with their seed <3 just whiny bottom bitch getting fucked, it is not a want it is a need I need more of werewolves bottoming!

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#monsterfucker confessions

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

Oh to be a big monster who is feeling down after a long day/feeling sick and to have a human pamper pamper and take care of me. That would be amazing

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#monsterfucker confessions

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

i want to be a fairy/pixie no taller then 10 inches and have sex with a regular sized person.

wether that means straddling their dick like it’s a horse or burying myself waist deep in them in attempt for my legs to be their dildo or however else sexual acts can be done with such a size difference.

this is less monster fucker more human fucker but i’m then inhuman creature i guess.

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#monsterfucker confessions

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

Chimera Falin from Dungeon Meshi is insanely hot to me. I want her to absolutely destroy my pussy with her massive throbbing dragon cock.

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#monsterfucker confessions

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

I need a HOT VAMPIRE MOMMY to whisk me away to her GOTHIC CASTLE for KISSIES and FACE SITTINGS RIGHT FUCKING NOW

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#monsterfucker confessions

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

a good time with a monster dilf would fix me i think

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#monsterfucker confessions

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

Monster breeding, but it's me breeding the monsters

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#monsterfucker confessions

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

Even though I'm an absolute sub I feel like domming kobolds would be the right answer. Even if they were topping they would be service tops worshiping me like I was a dragon as they strived to make me feel good.

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#monsterfucker confessions

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

If the fairy fuckers haven’t already read Feed and Yours, Insatiably by Aveda Vice, they really should!! Absolutely delicious! Start with Feed, you won’t regret it!

Also her novella, Skin, is great if you like gargoyles, which I really really do

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#monsterfucker confessions

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

I wish I could shapeshift so fucking bad. there's only so many monster dildos in the world that are compatible with strap-on harnesses. I want to be able to change dicks at will! hell, I wanna DUAL WIELD DICKS!! I want a knotted one, I want a prehensile cetacean one, I want one that glows in the dark, I want one with ridges, I want one with suckers, I want one with like... idk how to describe it other than basically a second, smaller dick coming out the tip for sounding other dicks, if that makes sense. bottom surgery doesn't offer enough variety of the options these days. I wanna get freaky with it.

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#monsterfucker confessions

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

Minotaur leather daddy 🥴

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#monsterfucker confessions

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

Mewtwo is so damn pretty. 10/10 would comfortingly pet and kiss

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#monsterfucker confessions

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

now the idea of having a lamia friend would be nice. Whenever I feel sad, have her/his tail wrap around me as they hug me.

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#monsterfucker confessions

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

We need more fat monsters. Fat vampires, fat WEREWOLVES. Fat bear werewolves would fix me. Big and burly is nice and all but it gets repetitive after awhile you know? Those dehydrated abs aren't healthy. Let's get some nutrition in these monsters.

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#monsterfucker confessions

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

You are the young, newly-widowed spouse of the foolish and disliked noble who started this devastating war at the border; when a mix of common folk and soldiers drag you from your bed you are already resigned to whatever fate they have chosen for you. You are dragged out in your sheer silk nightwear and forced to your knees in the mud of the main road. Glancing up you see the figures opposite, the enemy, the great hulking orcs your husband angered. Above you, you hear frantic talking - frantic, useless. None of you speak their tongue.

Finally, in desperation, you crawl forward and bow your head, pulling your hair aside to bare your neck. Surely that cannot be misunderstood. You are willing to give your life for peace. The townspeople are hardly going to let you live either way.

(You are the chieftain of an orc clan reluctantly drawn into this skirmish as a matter of honour, and when the humans drag out a small, helpless one of their own and offer it you hesitate. It is dressed in silk and wears jewels at its neck and throat, which means it is important. As grotesque as the practice is to you, your sense of pride, you know they often exchange hostages between themselves. You glance at your second, who visibly rolls her eyes but nods. Any excuse to go home.)

The orcs do not kill you there and then, but take you; you cannot tell yet if that is a mercy or a misfortune. You are bound at the wrists and ankles and flung over an orc soldier's shoulder like a sack of grain, and passed between many of them during the journey. In their own language they joke and laugh as they pass you over, sometimes pinching at the bare skin of your thigh where your clothes have hitched up.

At their camp you are deposited in the tent of the chieftain. You have heard rumours of what they do with captives, and between being ravaged until broken or eaten alive you do not know what to hope for. You merely lie there, limp and trembling slightly, until you hear the sound of someone entering. The hulking orc chieftain looks at you, tusked face unreadable, then drags you upright by a fistful of your hair to briefly press a flask to your lips. When you have gulped nearly all the water he drops you, grunts and leaves. He does not return to the tent the entire night. You know this, because the low buzzing terror in the back of your mind doesn't let you sleep.

(You hardly know what to do with the little thing. Your comrades say it is easy to carry but odd, it is full grown by the look of it but doesn't struggle at all or even try to bargain in its babbling little language. Maybe it is unwell. You order it placed in your tent and give it water yourself, but it shows no more signs of life, dull-eyed and staring at nothing. You decide to let it sleep and go back outside to drink until you pass out under the stars and the warm summer skies.)

On the second night you are taken to a river before camp, and following the example of those around you, you wash yourself; as you return to the riverbank you find your clothes gone. The orcs watch you, even the smallest of them half-again your size. You swallow your fear and walk naked back to the chieftain's tent. Once there you lower yourself to your hands and knees on the bedroll, bare skin still damp from the water. You cannot stop him from taking you, but perhaps it will hurt less or be over faster if you comply.

The orcs chieftain makes a brief, almost hissing sound at the sight of you, but does not leave this time. Their hand brushes across your back and you can feel their claws retracting. They touch and inspect you like a prize hound and you keep your eyes to the ground, tears of shame welling up. Then he presses two large, blunt fingers inside you, and you brace yourself. He fingerfucks you lazily for a minute or so before suddenly growling something you don't understand and turning you on your back, so you scramble to reposition yourself and hold your legs wide. He cradles your face in both his hands as he slowly sinks his swollen cock into you, larger than you think you could ever take and stretching you painfully yet unable to look away from his face. Your husband used to force you to look at him like this only when he wanted to watch you cry, so you brace yourself for the firm hold to turn into hard slaps that leave your ears ringing.

(The little thing washes with the others and you are approaching the tent with an armful of fabric in what you hope is close to their size when you are hit with the unexpected sight of them uncovered in your tent, positioned as any orc begging to be bred would be. You have to smother a gasp and restrain yourself; it has been too long, and little thing's fragile shape and delicate features are somehow all the more appealing for their strangeness. But you were raised well, taught that all parties must agree before partners bed each other; you don't know their tongue to ask them. You seek permission from their body language instead, first touching their back, the curve of their ass and leg, then with tentative fingers in their soft tight little hole. They do not flinch or try to flee, and they wetten for your fingers. Surely you can continue? Forgetting yourself you ask out loud.)

You wait to be hit. It doesn't happen. You wait to used rough and hurt inside; it doesn't happen either.

The looming figure of the great orc warrior above you moves with an almost incongruous care, pressing into you slowly and then simply resting there until your body becomes accustomed enough to his huge cock that he can start to move without tearing you. It's almost as if his gaze on your face is tracking the small hitched breaths or softening of your expression to know when he can begin to carefully thrust. Yet that makes no sense to you. Men have never used you so gentle, why would a savage orc do so?

He is big enough it does hurt some little but that sensation is soon overwhelmed by another, unfamiliar and disorienting; a low heat building your abdomen, a curl of pleasure that makes you whimper. Another growl comes in response, so you try to quieten, but his expression - it is so hard to read, so different, but he does not look angry.

(You are confused and troubled, but the tight heat of the little thing is so perfect around your cock. They are acting like a new prospective mate, taking your body like a mate would, but when you watch their face to try and find the answers you'd normally seek out loud there is something missing. You fuck them very gently, as such delicate pretty things should be treated, and forget yourself enough to apologise out loud when they whimper. You promise them in words they don't know that you want to make them feel good, you will stop if they struggle even once, that they are safe with you.)

The orc chief finishes with a single deep thrust and you can feel your abdomen swell with how filled you are, a little of their cum already beginning to leak down your thighs. He pulls away and you instinctively curl in on yourself, protective - the sound he makes in response is urgent but more distressed than angry. He paws at you to uncurl, look at him again; as you tilt your face up and force your body to relax he huffs and lowers his great head between your legs. Before you can even process it his rough tongue is on you, and you can feel the smooth dangerous weight of his tusks against your inner thighs. The rush of banked pleasure is equally unexpected, as he coaxes a climax from you that leaves you shaking. Afterward you are gathered up like a doll in his arms, and for the first time in three days actually believe you may be safe. Very, very, tentatively, you reach for his face and pause halfway in question.

(The little thing flinches only afterwards, but it does flinch and you immediately fight back a rush of guilt and worry. Rank be damned, the clan will not stand for taking any person unwilling, even a human one. You try to comfort them with small touches, check their face for signs of what's wrong. They are unreadable. You check between their legs and can tell they did not quite find pleasure yet, so quickly duck your head to correct it. Perhaps that is what was wrong, because when their body responds they do not flinch away from being held close. They even reach for your face, and after you nod encouragingly they trace their tiny fingers over the ridges of your skin and kiss nervously at the smooth curve of your tusk. You thrill, but say nothing; maybe they have no idea what an intimate gesture that is. You just happily nestle close.)

You were the young, newly-widowed spouse of the foolish and disliked noble who started this devastating war at the border; now, it seems, you are claimed by the warrior chief who bested him and the bedmate of a mighty orc who is gentler with you than said husband ever was and - slightly endearingly - buries his face in the crook of your neck with a low rumbling sound not unlike a purr when sleepy and post-coital.

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#monsterfucker confessions

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

Werewolves that go into rut and produce pheromones that makes their mate just as ravenous for them, putting them into a heat like state.

Imagine being a human hiking through the woods when a werewolf snatches you up. They restrain you and hold you close, face pushed into their chest so you can’t scream, trying to get you alone and away from the pack to mate you without competition. You struggle in their arms but it’s no use. Then their scent hits you, hard.

You calm down and stop fighting, their strong furry arms suddenly a comfort to you. You snuggle closer, inhaling deeply, starting to feel aroused and drunk off their scent. You take a hand and start feeling up his chest, his arms, his abs, his back, feeling the rippling muscle just beneath the fur. It excites you and you explore his body more as he carries you, squeezing his ass and pressing soft kisses to his neck, the dull ache in your loins growing into a pressing need.

By the time you two reach your destination, you’re grinding your body against him in his grip, desperate for his touch. He sets you down and you frantically undress, wanting him here and now, wordlessly getting on your elbows and knees with your naked ass in the air and legs spread as wide as they will go. You look back at him, his cock hard and throbbing, your eyes begging. You want to be bred, no, you need to be bred by this massive hairy beast. He wastes no time in mounting you, fucking you so hard and fast you spend the whole time screaming, coming two times from the rough treatment. He slams his knot into you and comes buckets into your womb, and you come for the third time from the stretch of his knot and the heat alone. He stays in you like that, slowly rocking his hips forward to milk the aftershocks in your body, until his knot deflated enough to finally slip out.

But he’s not done, and neither are you. He’s hard again in mere minutes, and if anything inhaling his scent while he fucked you hard makes you want him to breed you more. You continue fucking each other like that for days, him knotting you over and over, only ever stopping to eat and sleep. Even then he makes sure to knot you before bed so you fall asleep with his cock in you, stuffed to the brim with cum from a full day of being bred. You know neither of you will be able to stop until you know you’re pregnant with his pups, and that could be quite a while…

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#monsterfucker confessions