#dnd smut

[utopiasship]

Day dreaming about thick orc cock

Bulging muscular arms the size of your thigh

Abs covered in a beautiful layer of fat, perfect for grinding on

Thighs and ass straining any of pants he wears

Hairy chest, sweaty skin as he works on your expansive land, moving wood, hauling hay bales

Sitting on your back porch, cold glass of water in hand as you fucking salivate in your chair watching him, already planning how you'll jump his bones when he comes in

[synthlovesyou]

Fate of War - Orc x Isekai'd! Reader

CHAPTER 4 - chapter 5 - chapter list

Story warnings: Eventual smut, a bunch of degenerate stuff, very slightly suggestive this chapter, violence, gore, swearing, size kink, chill until it isn't

-

By morning, the group had become restless. The forest rays glinted against your squinting eyes, sleep still barely shedding as you collected yourself from the blanketed ground. Not having a mattress would never get easier, you realized, back arching to stretch the strain away. 

"Did you have something to do with this?" An accusatory finger found itself at your chest, pushing you back with a light oof. Terin, whose eyes glowed a brilliant violet, sounded beyond vexed with you, his anger practically steaming out of his ears in large puffs. 

Your eyes darted every which way; first landing on Sylven's perplexed form, then to the bard, who seemed just as angry as Terin, and then to Lokk, his beastly form covered in ropes of deep purple. 

"What the hell are you yapping about?" You swatted his hand away, stomping towards Lokk protectively. 

"The bastard is healed," The sorcerer spoke, or rather spat out, his magic forcing the orc into a flat position. "Impossibly healed, actually." 

You slowly nodded, sweat dropping at the implication Terin was proposing. He was right, Lokk was practically good as new. What was once an opened gash of severed limbs is now just an oozing scar of dried blood. A quiet mmm escaped your throat, the humming barely marking you as innocent in the situation. 

You offered Lokk a lopsided smile, shooting him a thumbs up. "Great immune system, sir orc!" His grunts and groans as he struggled against the mystic bindings made the situation rather idiotic, and you figured Terin's amusement would be non existent. When you turned to look at the sorcerer, your smile immediately faltered, mumbling a sorry before grabbing your backpack and slinging it across your shoulder.

"I'm not a doctor. I didn't heal him," you shrugged, feigning ignorance. 

Kosris scoffed. "Well it certainly wasn't Terin, if that's what you're suggesting!" 

"It's not..." You said matter-of-factly, rolling your eyes. 

Sylven, after finally understanding the debacle, piped up with his sword in hand. "It may have been the orc, himself." The elf used the sharpened end to nudge at Lokk's side, gently but with mirth. 

A silence enveloped the party, eyes all situated on the huffing orc, whose grunts had turned into violent snarls. 

"It is illegal for orcs to use magic." Kosris said.

"An orc using magic is a death sentence." Added Terin.

"He already had a death sentence," Sylven's surprising voice of reason silenced any other objections. "Perhaps, he had hoped to heal quick enough to kill us all in our sleep!" 

"Ooookay! Lots of accusations being thrown around right now," your hands waved in the air. "Let's say what you're saying is correct, Sylven." He nodded towards you to continue, "We're all alive, right? Let's just leave him here and be on our way."

Terin let out another scoff, annoying prick. "An orc using magic is beyond the depths of mere illegality! It is treason of the furthest degree!" 

"His existence is already treason." You argued back. 

"Then it is beyond treason. He must be killed." Sylven, just as he began stalking towards the orc, was stopped by Terin's nimble hand. Despite the elf's immediate whines of disapproval, Terin held his own and smiled softly at you.

"No, the saintess is correct. A deal's a deal." The glow of his restraints against Lokk glowed brighter. "I had originally planned for us to leave in a fortnight. We may leave on the morrow instead."

Kosris, ever the agreeable bard, nodded. "Yes, this may be a blessing in disguise!" Grabbing his lute, he strummed a few sounds, noting to himself to create a ballad based on this encounter. 

Sylven calmed at the sound of the music and stepped back, sheathing the sword as he always seems to do. 

"I was hoping for us to leave before the bastard would be fully healed." Terin glared at Lokk, a hint of resentment present on his expression. "I didn't want to risk it following us or attacking." 

"You don't have a spell that'll keep him tied up like that? You could just release it when we're far enough away," you suggested, pointing at the binding magic. 

Terin laughed, eyes crinkling and magic sputtering momentarily. "I forget how funny naive humans can be!" He continued his laughing fit before noticing your unamused appearance. "Apologies, my lady. It is just that, spells can only work within seeing distance. If I lose sight of the target for too long, the magic will simply dissipate." 

"Well, that's dumb." 

Another laugh bellowed from Terin. "Indeed." He agreed. 

"How about a dungeon?" Kosris suggested, continuing to lightly strum along his lute. 

"A dungeon?" You questioned.

"Kosris, you're a genius!" Sylven slapped the bard across the chest, earning a glare from the tiefling and a chuckle from you and Terin. 

You figured dungeons would be similar to the ones from DnD that you knew and loved; a quest-specific area where you and your party would need to fight monsters and solve puzzles in order to gain some kind of treasure or reward. 

Though, just to be safe; "What's a dungeon?" You inquired.

Sylven was the first to respond, a clear excitement and love for them evident in his enthusiasm. "Magic caves filled with monsters and treasure! I found my bow and arrows in one near West Kingsland," he turned around to display his trusty arrows set, the sun shining brightly against the steel metal tips. 

"Well, yes," Terin spoke. "But for our friend here, a dungeon will ensure he cannot follow us."

 You cocked your head to the side. "How?"

"Once you enter a dungeon, the entrance uses magic to seal itself until you find an exit scroll. No way in, no way out." The bard practically sang out.

You imagined it would be a similar concept, though the thought of a still-hurt orc fighting against magical creatures of who knows what prowess worried you. "Will it be safe? For the orc, I mean." 

Sylven placed a hand against your head, ruffling your hair. "Are all humans so sympathetic to beasts? How cute," he chuckled, practically cooing at you.

"Perfectly safe," Terin confirmed, "Orcs may be of little intellectual value, but they are great fighters against their fellow beasts." You noticed Terin often spoke of the orcs as if they were closer to animals than to people. As if they run on purely instinct and not rational decision making. 

But despite Lokk's hesitance and distant nature, he was certainly capable of complex thought. He guided you to using magic properly and gave a few sarcastic chides in the process. Could a being so sentient truly be considered animalistic? Sure, maybe some (or a lot of) orcs plundered and raped and ravaged, but can't that be said of all species? You know as well as anyone humans can be evil even at the best of times.

So, why couldn't that same benefit be given to the orc tribes?

You sighed, nodding along. "Okay, is there a dungeon close by?" Kosris put out the campfire and tucked away the group's blankets, preparing for your departure. 

"Dungeons aren't physically here. Just gateways to them," Sylven shrugged. 

"Gateways? So where are the dungeons then, if not here?" 

"Nobody knows," Kosris piped in. 

"They mysteriously appeared sometime when the race of men were going extinct." Terin barely muttered out, forcing Lokk to his feet using his sorcery. 

"They say it was a gift from the gods," Sylven offered you a soft smile. "For men. A way for your people to build wealth and honor after what the orcs did." 

You forced yourself from rolling your eyes. 

Everything always falls back on the orcs. 

"Gateways are everywhere, you just need a sorcerer to open them." Kosris pointed to Terin, who was already mumbling an incantation.

You could see that using his magic in two separate instances seemed to be taking a toll, the sweat beading down his forehead and buckling knees proving as much. 

Another sputtering of Terin's magic occurred before a hole in the ground appeared, the center blackened as if hoping to not reveal what might lay inside. 

Your eyes were wide, practically sparkling at the massive indentation in the ground. You bent to your knees, hands and eyes peaking over the edge to try and see down. "Amazing!" You exclaimed. 

"Perhaps we'll take you on one of our adventures after you've met the human king?" Sylven suggested, enjoying your excitement. You often reminded the group of a child, if not for your lack of hatred for the orcs, but your astonishment at everything they deemed normal. 

Kosris rather disliked Sylven's sudden confidence, nudging him with a fierce glare. 

"Will he... fall through it?" You questioned, concern laced in your voice.

"Stop worrying about a beast. It'll take more than a few dozen feet of falling to render an orc useless." Kosris pointed, tapping at the orc's back before the magic began pulling him forward.

"Dozen!?" You squealed. "N-Nevermind! I don't think this is a good idea, guys!" You latched onto Terin's arm before he shoved you off of him. 

"Don't do that!" He scolded. "You can mess up the magic!" 

Sylven placed a hand on your shaking shoulder. "Kosris is right, orcs are unfortunately really strong. They don't die too easily." 

"You saw. It took a magic infused trap and practically losing its leg for the orc to start dying." You knew Kosris was just trying to cheer you up, but it certainly wasn't helping your growing nerves. 

Lokk's still unhealed leg pushed against the dirt, wincing as he attempts to steady himself and run away; not that he could against Terin's magic. 

This just doesn't feel right. Based on the previous day, and your short week long journey with the group, you knew they weren't above lying. If anything, it was something they often did to protect you. And right now, watching Lokk be slowly edged into a black hole in the ground, you wondered if perhaps it isn't a dungeon he's being sent to, but death. 

In a spur of the moment rush of adrenaline, and you're no good do-gooder personality, you grabbed onto Lokk, both arms wrapping around his one large wrist and yanking backward. 

Your force did nothing against Terin's magic, and through whispered gasps and a loud NO! from Lokk, you were both dropped into the dungeon's entrance with no hope of returning to the surface. 

The drop was much shorter than anticipated as you quickly fell on a cushioned surface, seconds passing as you groaned and shook off the fear pumping through your veins. Lokk's hand was protectively wrapped around your waist, his piercing blue eyes widened at your small form lying atop his chest. 

His green hand could practically wrap around the whole of your body, your plump flesh soft to the touch and warm despite the coldness of the dungeon. Your eyes, big and (e/c) and scared, looked almost mesmerized as you were mere inches from his face, the ivory tusks barely grazing your face and causing a shiver to go down your spine. 

You shifted against the weight of his gaze, forcing out a pained groan from Lokk that brought you back to your senses. 

"I-I'm so sorry!" You pleaded, scrambling off of him. 

Lokk's hands were gentle, you realized, not forcing you into place as you easily removed yourself. 

He grunted, standing tall with a slight limp to his leg. "You shouldn't have followed me." He scolded, chest rising and falling slowly from exhaustion. 

"I thought they were going to kill you," you admitted.

"Foolish human." Lokk uttered. Though his actions did not match his words. He removed the remaining bottle on his belt, holding it out to you. When you didn't take it, he grunted. "It is only water. Drink up, you will need it." 

You gingerly took it, taking a large gulp of what remained before placing the glass on the stone ground and following beside Lokk. 

You scrutinized your surroundings. It truly is similar to a cave; with jagged walls that expanded by miles and glowing fissures trailing down different pathways. The blue glow of the dungeon seemed to only highlight the beautiful soft green of Lokk's skin, and you wondered how something so beautiful could be deemed dangerous. 

"So, this is a dungeon?" 

Lokk nodded. "It is a low scale one."

"What does that mean?" You asked.

He chuckled, the edges of his lips curling around his tusks in a small smile. "Weak monsters. But you're weaker, so I will have to protect you." 

You huffed. "I'm not that weak! I survived that drop we just went through!" You reminded Lokk, whose amusement continued to grow.

"Yes, because you used me to soften your landing, sma gâzhin." Lokk's voice is low and gravelly, a slight rumble present with every syllable. You imagined if you placed a hand against his throat, your hand would tremble from the vibration. Now that he was mostly healed, his spirits seemed well and up, more jovial than when you had first spoke. 

A bit of pride seemed to swell somewhere inside you. 

At his limping, you quietly moved closer to Lokk's side. "Do you need help walking? Put your arm around my shoulder." 

Your suggestion only received a raised eyebrow and a shaking of the orc's head. At barely half his height, Lokk imagined leaning against you would only make it more difficult to walk. Ignoring your words, the both of you continued on. 

"Why did you save me?" Lokk voiced, the question looming in his mind ever since you went behind your supposed party's back to use magic. 

You pondered for a moment, tongue clicking as you thought up a proper answer. He didn't know of your situation; your original world, the book's portal, or your lack of a bias against a race of people that simply didn't exist where you're from. Although you trusted Lokk to not want to kill you, you figured omitting information about world-hopping would be in your best interest. Terin hadn't reacted amicably and you figured an orc, whose people were being killed because of humans, wouldn't either. 

"I don't know you. I don't know your past or what kind of person you are," you confessed, trailing off. "But when you were caught in Terin's trap... At least, in that moment, you were innocent." 

"Orcs are never innocent." Lokk implored. 

You sighed, "So I've heard." 

Lokk placed the animal fur he had worn against his shoulder over your body, covering your head in its warmth. "Use this. It is cold." All you had been wearing were strange articles of clothing, so thin and bare he wondered why those you travelled with hadn't hunted something for you to wear, or at least let you borrow a cloak. (They're perverts, he figured)

"Orcs killed humans." Lokk feigned, curious on your response to such a well-known accusation.

"Is that true?"

He had never been asked that; what the truth is. 

"I don't believe so." 

You replied with a quiet hm. 

"I believe you," you admitted. 

Your response almost sent the orc stumbling, momentarily losing his footing. That small quip could get you imprisoned and Lokk killed. Yet here you were, cuddling into his warm furs that he, an orc, hunted and speaking as though orcs are innocent. 

"Haa, no'karon..." He breathed out. 

You jumped up at his words, an excitement visible on your face. "You're speaking orcish, right? What did that mean?" You were practically begging, all pushed against his side and unaware of the intimacy of it all.

Lokk reveled far too much in how it felt like he was corrupting you. Something about the big bad orc teaching the human how to speak orcish felt powerful in a world where uttering orcish is punishable by death. 

"Unbelievable. You had surprised me." Lokk acknowledged. 

You know orcs are treated like garbage so you made no move to ask Lokk to expand on his words. You knew why he was surprised. 

"Sma meegan? Or something like that, what does it mean? You call me that a lot.

"Sma gâzhin, little human." 

You held the fur tighter around your body, a small smile present against your lips. "Oh..." You whispered. As you brought the fur closer, you noticed the smallest droplets of dried blood, blue and dark and ugly; proof that something violent and cruel had taken place only a night or so ago. "Hey Lokk, I'm sorry for what happened." You apologized, looking to the ground almost defeated. "What they did to you... It was cruel." 

"It is law," he interjected. "Orcs kill and rape the innocent, it is only fair."

Your face burned at the notion. "You don't believe that. And neither do I!" You fumed. "I don't know orc and human history, at all really. But at the very least, I don't think you're the type of person to go out and kill and rape." Your rambling seemed incessant, and Lokk placed a hand against your back to gently push you ahead of him.

"I have no need to kill humans, and I have had no trouble finding lovers," he chuckled. 

You stopped in your tracks. "Lovers? Like- with humans?" 

Lokk did not speak, offering you no response but a gruff rumble in his throat. He's had no trouble finding lovers because he's never actually looked. Surviving against sorcerers and paladins and warriors is no easy task. Your expectant eyes bore into his soul, as if hoping for some kind of answer he wasn't sure he could give. 

If he said yes, would you be disgusted? An orc and a human being together? 

Or if he says no, would you be disappointed? The thought of how tough he likes to act suddenly faltering simply because he's never bed a woman, orc or human? 

He could laugh at the thought! 

Ahead seemed to be an opening to another section of the dungeon, likely where the monsters will be. A ledge peered over the both of you, high enough for Lokk to climb over, but surely too tall for a little human. Without wasting a beat, Lokk placed both his hands at your side and lifted, his fingers digging into the softness of your back and breasts. 

You blushed furiously at the contact, eyes flittering in every direction to not make eye contact with the orc. He sat you on the edge, your legs swinging off as he separated his warm hands from your body. 

Your red face caused a deep chuckle to resonate within Lokk. "No trouble," he joked, referring back to your questions about his morals. 

You huffed, swinging back over the ledge and standing straight, Lokk climbing to rest at your side. 

"Stay close to me, Sma gâzhin," Lokk warned, "It is dangerous now." 

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Pretty Smiles ; Witty Words || Scanlan Shorthalt ||

A/n: I did it

Elf!Reader / established relationship / Princess!Reader

Warnings: Dom!Reader • Cowgirl • Begging • shy in public / wild in private

Scanlan had married a sweet woman.

Soft-spoken.

Clumsy.

The kind of princess who tripped over her own skirts and blushed when he flirted with her in public.

He adored you.

Protected you.

Teased you endlessly.

He thought he knew you.

He did not know this version.“Okay!! okay!! hold on—”

Scanlan’s hands came up instinctively, gripping your hips as you pushed him flat onto the bed.

He blinked up at you. “You’re! wow..hi...hello, this is new—”

You didn’t answer.

You just climbed over him, settling into his lap, your dress riding up as you straddled him fully.

Scanlan froze.

“…oh.”

His hands hovered.

Then landed.

Firm.

Warm.

“Sweetheart,” he said carefully, “you’re looking at me like I’m about to have a very good time.”

You tilted your head, soft smile in place, the same shy expression you wore in court.

“Yes.”

Then you rolled your hips.

Scanlan choked. “OH! okay, alright, no...this is...this is different—”

You sank down onto him in one smooth motion.

His words cut off completely. "…oh gods—”

Your breath softened as you adjusted, your hands bracing on his chest as you settled fully on his cock.

Slow.

Controlled.

Confident.

Scanlan stared up at you like his entire worldview had just shattered. “…you’re not shy.”

You moved again.

He grabbed your hips immediately. "You are not shy.”

You smiled sweetly. "You said that already~ but I am shy." Your head tipped to the side as you rolled your hips deeper.

His head fell back against the pillows. “THAT is not shy behavior—”

You leaned down slightly, your lips brushing his ear, giving it a gentle nip. “It is with you.”

Scanlan’s brain short-circuited. “Okay, no, hang on...this is....this is a trap—”

You didn’t let him finish.Your hips started moving—slow at first, a steady rhythm that had him gripping your waist like he needed something to anchor himself.

“Sweetheart...” he breathed, “you’ve been holding out on me..."

You hummed softly. “Maybe.”

He laughed weakly. “Maybe?! You’ve been acting like a delicate little flower and now you’re—”

You dropped down harder.

He yelled. "—NOW YOU’RE THIS—”

Your pace didn’t falter.

If anything, it grew more confident, your body rising and falling over him with an ease that left him completely undone beneath you.

Your breasts bounced softly with each movement, your breathing growing uneven as you lost yourself in the rhythm.

Scanlan watched.

Completely captivated.

“Oh I’m in trouble,” he muttered.

You tilted your head. “Why?”

“Because I love this,” he said immediately. “And I am not prepared for how much I love this—”

You leaned down, pressing your hands into his chest, keeping him flat beneath you as you rode him harder.

“You talk too much.”

“I always talk too—oh gods—”

Your pussy tightened around him.

He grabbed your hips harder, thrusting up within you. “Okay!! no, don’t do that....actually...do that again—”

You laughed softly, doing exactly that.

Scanlan groaned loudly, his composure unraveling with every movement as you kept him pinned beneath you, completely at your mercy. “You’re going to kill me,” he said breathlessly.

You leaned down, your lips brushing his. "No.” You rolled your hips again. “I’m going to make you feel good.”

Scanlan stared at you. “…I married a demon.”

You smiled sweetly. “You love me.”

“I adore you,” he corrected quickly.

Your pace quickened slightly, your breath hitching as your control slipped just enough for your body to tighten around him.

Scanlan noticed immediately. "Oh!! oh you’re getting close—”

You bit your lip. “Maybe.”

He grinned. “Oh this is...this is my favorite part—”

Your hips stuttered.

Then dropped.

You came first, your body tightening around him as your breath broke, your grip on his chest tightening.

Scanlan followed seconds later, groaning loudly as his hips bucked once beneath you, completely undone.

For a moment, silence . Then Scanlan's voice broke it. “…wow.”

You blinked down at him. “What?”

Scanlan looked up at you, still catching his breath, thumb running circles on your hip. “…we are doing that again.”

You laughed softly, slumping slightly against him as you hummed softly. “Yes.”

He wrapped his arms around you immediately.“…frequently.”

[hiddenhornsclub]

I’ve been thinking of and wanting a lore/dnd themed ot5 fic…

Yeonjun: Tiefling, Archfey Warlock / College of Glamour Bard, Chaotic Nuetral

Soobin: Elf, Oath of Devotion Paladin, Neutral Good

Beomgyu: Human, Circle of Spores Druid, True Neutral

Taehyun: Human, Divination Wizard, Lawful Neutral

Huening Kai: Half-Elf, Fey Wanderer Ranger, Chaotic Good

(in reality they’re all bards with an entertainer background and chaotic good but i digress)

A Champaign consisting of 5 men running into a mysterious person (you), having them embark on a long journey. Perhaps you’re leading them to greatness or evil. Above all, as each long rest goes by, the men fall into the trap of lust…

Yeonjun sneaking into your tent at night only to be struck by your hold spell. You grab his unbroken horn and interrogate him, “why is a devil like you snooping around?” To your surprise, you feel something poking your leg. The teifling’s tail curls, tensed from embarrassment, aroused by your intimidation.

His horns are sensitive when tug them

His tail is even more sensitive…

Music automatically plays in the background as you two do it

The leader of the group is now following a stranger. Soobin is suspicious of you. You come out of nowhere, claim that there’s something great. Hard to continue your journey with the men when the leader doesn’t trust you. But who knew that with a little pinning and a lot of dominance, Soobin is quick to change his mind about you.

His pointy ears get so red when embarrassed or aroused

Gets so stressed from leading yet always puts you first

Touched starved, horny, Beomgyu, sadly lies tangled up in a bed of thorns :( heh pun not/is intended Not knowing how to balance his powers and his arousal. He whines, calling on you because he knows you have skills to save him. After he explains how he got into this predicament, you gladly guide him. Showing how he can find pleasure along with his powers.

Learns to grow flowers instead of thorns during sex

He prefers turning into a bear during combat… will turn into a hybrid other times mating season is crazy

Likes to do it on a bed of mushrooms

After being ambushed by a swarm of goblins, you used up all your power and health eliminating most of the foes. Everyone’s busy doing their part no one noticed except Taehyun, that you were close to going down. Before you know it, you’re teleported away from the fight. Annoyed at first, but as you look around at the dormant camp, Taehyun’s magic puts stars and northern lights within morning skies, you calm down. Still wanting to go back and help the boys however a glowing illumination of Taehyun appears. Having you lay down in his tent, tending to your wounds. His magical touch caused a groan to slip out, begging him to continue. Taehyun still within battle can’t help but smirk to himself.

His one eye glows brightly when aroused

Loves to have sex in dreams

Reads into a lot of romantic stories

You are currently arguing with a cat trying to find a way through the woods. Kai and you have been split from the others since the recent fight, you begin to fear that the sun is setting fast and more than half the party is not to be seen. The man smirks at your frustration and slowly bends down to the cat’s level, “Can you please tell the pretty lady if you’ve seen our friends? Could lead us to them?” You raise your eyebrows, not at how Kai seems to understand each “meow” but at his comment he made about you. Kai doesn’t talk to you that much. Not as much as the others. During your quest to find your party, you two get closer mentally and physically. Fucks you into a tree.

Inexperienced, Loves to learn more about you and your body

Dancing lights float around while you’re doing it

[self-indulgent-fiction]

The Three Masters -- Tortune

3 of 3

The One Who Lives on the Edge of the Moon

Male! Moon Dragon x Gn! Warlock! Reader

X...X...X

18+

You prove yourself worthy of his blessing by enduring his teasing trials, and now you've earned his favor. And your reward.

X...X...X

Tags: dragon sex, shape shifting, purification ritual, dnd inspired (what did you do to get that god's contract warlock, huh?), orgasm denial, teasing dom, light dom/sub, light master/slave

Word Count: 950+

X...X...X

Angoth | Yu | Tortune

Tortune knows your language, but even if he did not, the look in his eyes is beyond knowing and age.

You’ve come to the nest of this dragon for one reason, the only reason why anyone goes without weapons to the lair of a dragon. This is not the first time you’ve met with this otherworldly beast, but you know it will be the last for some time. He is no ordinary dragon, ruled by land lust and hunger, but a creature beyond this realm summoned here for only a short time. 

“You have considered the offer?” He asked politely, more out of courtesy than anything. 

There is a reserved look in his eye, though a playful glimmer remains. 

To become a receiver of his divine energy is a grueling process of denial. You must wrap yourself in a cloth of his making and mediate through a fast that lasts the length of a moon’s cycle. You are allowed water, and small morsels of fruit at sunrise every four days, but you are not allowed to speak, leave the caves, or touch any skin that’s hidden beneath the cloth he’s blessed you with. 

At first this seemed like not much a challenge. 

Monks and priests often did more in yearly rituals to show their devotion to their gods and goddesses. But the challenge of the test was not as simple as two fortnights fast. The cloth worn, though fair, itched in such a way that your skin was always sensitive. The cave you stayed in smelled of saltwater and fine food, and soft winds made reed music fill the air. It was divine. Simple and natural, yet so beautiful kings and queens would have sold their kingdoms to stay a day there. 

And then, when you sat down to pray and meditate each day he, the one you did this for, was there. His mind shaped the mind wanderings, taking you hand in hand to higher realms of pleasure, leaving you aching. 

Though it may have felt impossible at times, you had abstained from singing the song with the reeds, from ingesting the sweet bubbling spring water and the fresh food that grew there hidden deeper in the cave, and from releasing the cravings of your needy body. All to stand before him, and to answer his question as a sacred maiden, blessed and purified as no other was. 

“I have.” You say, dropping the shimmering robe that had covered your body from head to toe, exposing the bare flesh to the soft light and warm summer air. You felt clean, despite not having bathed for a month now, like the moonlight had cleansed you of all impurities. “I accept.” 

“Then you know what you must do.” 

You feel a pull to step closer, and you’re soon coerced even closer by the furry tail that wraps itself around you. He brings you closer to his body, laying you in the warm spot where he just laid, and his smooth hands grab at your body and grip your breasts. Your head rolls back to look at his long face, and his beak nudges at your neck making you shiver. 

The dragon has a particular claiming ritual, which is why few before had dared bind with the god as their vows of chastity and pride prevented them from opening themselves earnestly. He groped more until he took your thighs into his hands and spread them far apart. Each leg draped over the sides of his tail, and he scooched his long body closer. With one of his hands, he took your wrists and held them above your head and his member began extending between you. 

You can’t help but look, and your eyes grow wide with fear. He is large, befitting his grand stature.  

Compelled to look up, you see the creature regarding you carefully, and with some amusement. Its mirthful look calms you, and then he speaks. “You are quite small, little one, but do not fear. No part of me will ever hurt you, close your eyes and you will feel me enter.” 

You do as you’re told and when you feel this cock tip hit you, it is nearly as thick as your leg. You do not brace or fear, and the head soon pops in you. The size is suddenly perfect and the tip slides in easily. Each ridge grinds against you, filling you but just enough and soon you’re writhing and moaning. It’s been so long since you’ve been allowed to feel pleasure your body tingles and begs for more. 

Tortune sees you grinding and lets you play and buck beneath him before his hips thrust forward with a sharp pound. There will be no playing past this point. He was fast and his movements smooth and soon your moans filled the moonlit field. There was naught but pleasure as he continued pounding, but his shaft began to grow longer at its base, hammering at your entrance. 

His grip on you tightens and suddenly he pounds himself harder until the knot of flesh fills you with a hot ‘pop.’ You’re stunned to breathy silence but he assures you this is not over. He continues to thrust deeply into you, though less evenly than before, and you are nothing but mess and moans. 

The beast throws its head back and howls as his seed fills you. You shudder and moan and it reaches back and nips you, hard on the shoulder. It will leave a mark that mars you forever, you will belong to Tortune, even in death. But as his warmth fills you and your pleasure shakes your body uncontrollably, you know there is no other master you’d like to serve. 

This little series of lits has been living on my hard drive for a while. So while I read over this one, sometimes I look over stuff. Let me know if a part of it doesn't read as GN!

Be well my self indulgent friends.

~With Love, Bede

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[sorchathered]

As you wish

Summary- Bob, Mickey and their girlfriends go on an adventure to the local renaissance faire, but how can Bob be expected to keep his hands or thoughts to himself when you look like the fairy princess of his wildest dreams?

Pairing- Robert “Bob” Floyd x reader

Warnings- language, drinking, smut, knife play if you squint.

It was probably the hottest day of the summer, but that hadn’t deterred any of you from gearing up in your painstakingly hand crafted costumes and caravanning down the highway to Escondido for the Renaissance festival. Fanboy and his girlfriend and you and your newly minted fiancée Robert Floyd had been playing dnd with a group in Coronado for about 2 years now, that’s how all of you had met. You were putting signs up for the new campaign at the library, and Bob happened upon the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, feet carrying him to the bulletin board before his brain caught up with what he was doing. He’d been shy but charming, and you had enthusiastically convinced him to join your group later in the week to try it out. He’d never played before but he new for sure that Mickey had, so with a little (a lot) of begging and promises to buy his beers at the Hard Deck that weekend, the both of them turned up at the community center in Coronado to join the band of misfits they would soon call a second family.

It had turned out to be the best decision he’d ever made if he was honest, the two of you had gone out for coffee after the first meeting and had been inseparable ever since. Two years later and he would follow you anywhere, you were quite literally like a fairy, full of bright energy, quick witted and downright ethereal with your wide shining eyes and angelic features, he truly didn’t know how he had gotten so lucky. You’d kept your costume a secret all month, carefully curating little bits and pieces and as you crossed the threshold into your bedroom he had the thought to just stay home and ravish you all day. A beautiful green peasant dress was split at the hip, the skirt frilly and flowing down past your knees, with a beautiful laced up corset starting at your waist and pushing your cleavage impossibly high on your chest, he was definitely salivating and couldn’t seem to snap out of his trance until you skipped over and tapped his nose. “Hmm? What? I’m sorry baby, what did you say?” He wasn’t subtle at all and you giggled as you leaned into him to pepper kisses along his cheeks and slotting yourself between his thighs. “I take it you like what you see my strong, powerful warlock…buuuut I don’t think we have time for what you have in mind so get dressed handsome it’s time to go!” You say with a laugh as you step out of his arms and skitter down the hall with a cackle. Good Lord, he was going to lose his mind watching you all day, as he heaved himself off the bed he heard you holler down the hallway, “oh and baby just wait until you see my wings!” He groaned again at the thought and trudged to the bathroom to take an ice cold shower, grumbling about his temptress fairy princess and how he’d rather stay home.

You couldn’t have had a better time if you tried, somehow you and Mickey’s girlfriend Lana had convinced the boys to dress up as well, and you both had to admit there was something to be said about watching them walk around in billowy shirts looking like they’d just stepped out of a Tolkien novel. The boys were having the time of their lives, drinking ale from giant wooden tankards and consuming their weight in turkey legs, while the two of you girls bought glittery potion bottles and crystal necklaces from the local vendors. Finally heading home as the sun went down you peeked through the rear view at the drunken rogue and warlock passed out in your backseat and giggled, you just hoped Bob would be alert enough for what you had planned for the evening when you got home.

After safely depositing Lana and Mickey at home, your knight in shining armor clambered into the front seat, bright eyes full of mirth as he looked you over, his fingers had been itching to loosen your corset strings all day and if he was honest he was a little hard at the thought of letting you ride him with nothing but your fairy wings on. You fortunately were on the same page, impatiently ushering him through the doorway and down the hall as you groped at him and sucked on his tongue, you’d always wanted to role play as your characters but had been too scared to ask, but now looking at Bob’s flushed cheeks as he toyed with the laces of your corset you knew he was absolutely into this.

“Can I help you handsome? See something you like?” You said as you turned in his arms, looking up at him through your lashes and rubbing your body all over his. “Fu- I- I see a lot of things that I like my lady, think you should show me what’s hiding under this gown, can’t be too careful can I? Fairies are known for their trickery.” He says as he leans in to suck a mark behind your ear and begins unlacing your corset, tantalizingly slow as he continues to nibble at your neck and collarbone, nimble fingers untangling the laces and smoothing over exposed skin as your dress begins to loosen and slip from your frame. “I don’t know what you mean sir, we fairies are a peaceful lot, I would be a fool to try and get the upper hand on such a strong, powerful warlock such as you” you say with a cheeky grin, sliding the dagger you’d bought today from your thigh holster and pressing it into his side. “Hmmf, exactly like I said, tricky business dealing with fairies” he huffed out a laugh and raised his hands, letting you lower him to his knees in front of you. You switched to your normal voice as you lifted his chin, stroking the stubble that you always loved him to have on the weekends. “What’s your color baby?” “Green, so so fucking green, You’re a dream come true you know that?” He said as he smoothed calloused palms across the back of your thighs, taking your thumb into his mouth and sucking it, drawing a whimper from you as you nodded furiously at him.

“If you wanted to check me for weapons all you needed to do was ask, but since I have you on your knees, why don’t you put that smart mouth to task on something useful” you said you hooked your leg over his shoulder and pulled him close to your core, as fun as the banter had been you were wound up and needed him to touch you. He ran his nose along your underwear, teasing you with little nips to the side of your thighs and pulled back to look at you again, disappointment crossed your features and he chuckled and pinched your ass from under your skirt. “I think you might want to roll for persuasion sweetheart, I could draw this out a little longer if I’m honest, but I wouldn’t be opposed to you begging for it.” You blinked down at him a little stunned, that cocky son of a bitch, he knew exactly how to play you. “Oh- oh that’s mean. Fine. Give me your dice then, I know you bought new ones today.” He definitely did buy a new set today, and he would be lying if this wasn’t absolutely hilarious to him so he pulled them from his pocket and placed them in your hand, throwing his head back and laughing at the irritated look on your face as you shook the dice and tossed them at his feet. “Ha! D20! You heard me Warlock, put that silver tongue of yours to good use or I’ll cut your throat where you stand.”

You feigned irritation but you’d get what you wanted, you both knew he’d never tell you no anyways, he ran his hands over your thighs again and began to slide your underwear down your legs, letting it dangle off the leg hanging from his shoulder and set to work, licking a stripe through your folds as he looked at you with his piercing blue eyes. Fuck he was always so good at this, eating at you in earnest as you ground against his face and tugged his hair, making out with your cunt and moaning into you like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. “Oh, oh fuck I’m there just like that” you breathed out and came hard on his tongue, he didn’t stop until you were overstimulated and pushing at him to stop, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and pulling himself up to grope your chest and kiss you. “What do you want my sweet fairy princess? I’m at your service my love.” “Want you to fuck me, need you inside me, claim me.” He was pretty sure you were trying to kill him, it wasn’t even his birthday and you were giving him his wildest dreams, he pulled the rest of your dress and corset off as you clawed at his shirt and pants trying to strip him down to nothing. Finally free of clothes his eyes roamed over you, you were perfect in every way but he still couldn’t get that one thought out of his head so he stepped around you to grab the wings you’d dropped and held them in front of you. “Can’t get it out of my head, what do you think baby? Ride me with the wings on?” He had the gall to look a little sheepish as his cheeks heated up, you’d never get over just how damn cute he was, he could be downright filthy but this is somehow what caused him to get shy on you. You slipped your arms through the holes and shoved him backwards into the bed climbing onto him and sliding his hard cock into you, rocking slowly with him as he sucked on your chest, pulling a nipple into his mouth as you cried out, oh God were you close again already? Shit maybe you two needed to start doing this more often, you felt like you were buzzing with electricity with every thrust, the small thatch of hairs at the base of him grazing your clit deliciously as you came hard for the second time, sending him tumbling over the edge with you as his teeth sank down into the juncture of your neck, painting your walls with his spend.

He made to roll you onto your back but you made him wait, your wings were expensive and you didn’t want him to crush them, so you slid them off and let them hit the floor, rolling him on top of you as you continued to kiss lazily. “Damn this could be a problem” he said with a grin and you looked up at him puzzled, “how am I ever supposed to go to dnd on Fridays with you when all I can think about is you rolling a d20 so I’d eat you out.” You both couldn’t stop your giggles, and when Friday rolled around and your DM suggested Bob roll for persuasion, you couldn’t help but giggle and wink at him, thinking about taking him home and donning your pretty wings for him again and how it should definitely become a regular event.

————————————————————————

Divider by- @strangergraphics

Tagging- @attapullman @mamamaystbr @mamachasesmayhem @bobgasm @roosterforme @withahappyrefrain @floydsglasses @sebsxphia @pinkdaisies9285 @hangmansgbaby @sugarcoated-lame @teacupsandtopgun

[vixensfun]

Earned submission

Wc:2k

18+

Mentions: p eating, fingering, face riding, nose riding, praising, sub!man, overstim, porn w/o plot, fem masturbation, I think that’s it???

Just for some context to get to know Aurelia. She so fine I need her in my life omg. This also isn’t my best writing please…mercy…

Working at a strip club was difficult business. Keeping the place clean and safe for workers while also maintaining a level of professionalism at how rude some workers are is…hard. Being a dominating presence was hard when all Boggle wanted to do was curl up next to his girlfriend and enjoy his domestic life. Even if that meant asking her- no- begging her to ride his face until she just couldn’t anymore.

Boggle positioned himself in the middle of his bed as Aurelia began to straddle his face. She lifted the pink sheer lingerie cover from his face and looked down at him. Her lace panties were long gone, already thrown in the corner somewhere to be retrieved from her room. Her housemates were all preoccupied with one thing or another. Out of the house. Meaning it was the perfect time for boggle to request this.

“You want me to sit completely on your face? Is that even safe?” She questioned as his hands moved up her body, all the way to her breast. Groping them through the lacy white bra that had them spilling in the best way possible. If he wasn’t so desperate, he would’ve taken his time, covering her chest in bites and hickeys to be shown off like jewels in a necklace for a week. “You’re going to suffocate underneath-“

“Aurelia, I will be fine. Just- please, I need you.” And instantly she melted. There was a sigh as she slowly lowered herself onto his face. He hooked his arms around her thighs and pulled her down. A small bleat was heard from her as his tongue licked a long strip up her slit, pushing past her puffy folds.

A gasp left her lips as she felt his warm, wet tongue rub small circles over her clit. She grinded down against him, using his tongue as her personal toy. Shallow breaths and small gasps filled the room alongside the sinful noises of him licking up and down her cunt. Flicking so effortlessly, as if he’s mastered this skill. “Aaahh—fuck baby. Such a good boy for me. You like eating me out like this?”

There’s a whimper that comes from him. One that is riddled in desperation as he pushes himself deeper into her pussy, sloppily making out with her slick covered folds. His head nods aggressively in agreement, nose bumping against her clit. Her hips bucked at the feeling, clenching around nothing.

Boggle then probes his tongue into her pussy, feeling her walls flutter around his tongue. A guttural groan is pulled from her as she holds onto the headboard, shaking slightly. His tongue pushed deeper into her, as deep as he possibly could to taste every drop of her that he could.

“Fuuuuuuck, boggle, baby. Mmm—just like that, right there. Juuuust like thaaaaat. FUck baby. Such a good dog for me. We should do this more often, huh?” Her words were slightly slurred and airy as lifted her hips slightly and slowly sliding his tongue back in, fucking into his mouth. His nose hit her clit ever so slightly, causing a jolt to run through her spine. A sharp breath being sucked between her teeth, walls clenching harder against him. Her cunt became wetter, dripping into his mouth.

The star skinned man was absolutely pussy drunk off his girlfriend, pupils blown while his face was stuffed between her legs. Feeling her clit rub against his nose while she fucked herself on his tongue. “Such a pretty boy between my legs…” her words are hushed as she feels her juices travel down her legs, covering the sides of his face and his chin.

Aurelia sits up and off his face to give him a break, trying to make sure he has some air. There’s a whine that comes from him and she looks down at him. His pupils are wide as they stare up at her, his chest rising and falling fast as he pants out, tongue hanging out his mouth as he anticipates her to sit on his face again. “Aurelia… baby… please. Come back.” The way he asked and pleaded was so

Pathetic.

And she loved it. The woman turned back to look at his neglected cock. Leaking precum from his tip, a dark spot evident in his pants as he bucked his hips up involuntarily. There was a smile that crept onto her face as she turned back around, looking down at him. “Are you getting off to me sitting on your face?” There was a groan that came from him at the feeling of her pussy against his tongue.

“Aurelia—please. Sit on my face again. I…need you. I need to taste you until you can’t cum anymore.”

His pleads were like a song that she had carefully written, desperation etched deep into his features that proved just how much he needed her. A deep carnal need to have her, all of her. He lifted his head slightly, enough to slide his tongue between her folds, collecting her juices on his tongue. The star skinned man let out a low moan at her taste.

The woman’s hand left the head board and gently combed through his hair, the moment becoming more intimate between the two with the added touch.

They always had to touch each other in some way. A hand on the face, the holding of the hips, the combing of the hair, the slow, long kisses. There was always added touch when it didn’t call for the situation just to silently remind each other of their love for each other. No matter how the bedroom scene played out between the two of them, there was always a soft element to it that grounded both of them in the moment of love.

“Gods above, my love. I’ve never seen you this needy for something you always have access to.” The words are thinly veiled behind her panting. As much as him being needy turned her on more than anything, the feeling of his nose against her clit was something she wanted to explore.

So she did.

She lowered herself just enough to where the tip of his nose pressed against her clit, causing a shock of ecstasy up her spine. A small whimper passed from his lips at how close she was to being in his mouth, but she just hovered. Letting the sweet honey from between her lips drip onto his lips as she rode his nose, hips moving back and forth in such a tantalizing way.

The man below her wondered just how he was supposed to keep his composure when something so precious was just within reach. He knew better than to rush her and what she had planned for him. He knew that. He knew it wouldn’t work because she would just pull away from him and wouldn’t indulge in this. So, he dug his nails into her thighs, a strangled whimper coming from him as he bucked uncontrollably into the air. The small bit of friction gave some sort of relief to his ache.

“Hhhaaah—damn I should…mmmm ride your nose mm fuck, baby, more often.”

Aurelia started to grind her hips down harder, chasing her high that she felt coil in her stomach. She looked back again and saw his hips thrusting up, matching her hips as best they could. His hips sputtered and the spot in his pants got bigger as she saw he was close to his high.

She repositioned herself so her entrance was right above his mouth and her clit was still against the tip of his nose.

“Go ahead, be a good boy and get a taste while I use your nose baby.”

It’s like he fell in love all over again. The man unhooked his arms from her thighs, trailing his hands up to her chest. Hands started kneading at the soft tissue that was covered by her bra. He pulled the bra down, letting her bare tits spill out as he made quick work twisting and pulling her nipples before kneading and groping her.

Her hand went from his cheek to his hair as she held on, tugging and jerking his head forward and deeper into her pussy. His tongue pushed into her, pushing past the tight ring of muscle as he devoured her like a starved man. Her hips were still grinding against his nose as he tasted every inch inside of her. She reached behind herself and lightly touched the tip of his clothed, neglected cock and he lost it. Hips thrusting wildly as he came, a deep groan of her name came muffled from between her legs as she watched him come undone. His hands got more aggressive with her breast as he came in his pants.

Boggle moved his hands from her chest and grabbed her waist as he forced her to sit further on his face, trying to coax her orgasm out. Lapping and sucking like a depraved animal. He even went as far as to lift his head up, getting impossibly deep between her puffy folds. Her grip on his hair tightened, thighs trying to squeeze together, but gods damn the way he pried them open and kept them open.

“Fuck, gods damn it, boggle.” Her words were airy as she came into his mouth. Her eyes closed as she let a moan rip from her throat. He lapped up every bit of cum he could. Some of it dribbled down the side of his mouth as his chin was covered in her juices.

His grip loosened on her as he helped ride out her orgasm. He slowed the movements of his tongue before halting to a complete stop. There was a dull ache in her legs as she lifted herself up, just hovering over his face.

“Have you gotten the urge out of your system?”

Fucked our eyes look up at her, his pupils almost heart shaped. A wild look etched into him as he registers her words. “One more thing. Please?”

“What is it?” She begins to shift her weight, as if getting ready to get up. He holds her waist still, preventing her from moving.

“Play with yourself. Hover right here and play with yourself until you cum.”

She blinked at him, surprise written on her face. “Boggle, that’s incredibly obscene-“

“Aurelia.”

“Okay, you’ve made your point.”

She leaned back on one hand while the other trailed down to her clit, rubbing slow small circles against her overstimulated clit. A small whimper left her mouth as she leaned her head back. His lips peppered small kisses on her thighs as he watched with anticipation.

A small sob broke through her lips as she sped up the pace. He nipped and sucked on her thighs. A finger slipping past her entrance and slowly curling, hitting that perfect spot that drove her crazy.

A small bleat came from her in surprise at the feeling. Her walls fluttered at the sensation. Fingers sloppily playing with that delicate clit. The rush of pleasure came much faster than she anticipated.

His tongue hung out in anticipation as he watched her body. The reactions. The twitching. The way her chest rose and fell. She was close. Her hips grinding down against her own fingers and his. Chasing desperately for her climax.

The wave was sudden but happily welcomed as she came, watching with welled up tears in her eyes as he caught almost every drop in his mouth, some of it landing on the rest of his face and his chin. He was utterly soaked and he didn’t mind. Her cum was like heaven and he was desperate to catch it. His other hand rubbed small circles in her hips to calm her, trying to get her to come back down to reality.

Once she caught her breath, she moved off his face. Finding her spot next to him in bed.

“So, is this a thing we’ll be doing more?”

“Boggle…”

“I’m just saying, you were really hot on top of me.”

“When am I not hot?”

[fansinciti]

ch.3 / ?? Summary: Grun'tak is an Orc of outstanding achievement. In war. In peace. In depravity. In battle. He has claimed many prizes, but never before has a Drow male fallen into his clutches. Gruumsh has blessed (or cursed) him with this newest trophy.  Warnings: Content linked contains written, dark fantasy themes that include: M/M relationship, degradation, half-assed aftercare, verbal threats, unnecessary plot for smut, tbh. banner credit: toxisyddy A/N: I wrote so much of this, so bear with me as I post my reserves. I will eventually write something else, I swear, but in the meantime. Here's some random plot/aftercare for this originally just random erotica. Word count for this chapter is approximately 4k, hence the under read more tab! AO3 link here for those who prefer it!

Grun’tak anticipated the Drow to doze in his arms. His cloak had been tucked gingerly around his battered body. As loathsome as that was, without the orc’s body pressed warmly into his own, the chill of the caverns had crept up on him. Sweat and muck had cooled on him, and with nothing to shield him from the draft, he found himself shivering minutes after their coupling. The cape did little against the sticky humidity, and though Grun’tak cradled him tight, it was far from welcome or helpful in rebuffing the cold. 

Sleep was a condition he couldn’t indulge, even if he wanted to, and to meditate in this state would be nigh impossible. Still, he focused on his breathing. Shame and humiliation burned him nearly as bad as the pain radiating up the expanse of his back, the bruising bite, and the plethora of other hickeys and scratches and welts that afflicted him. They were reminders of the subjugation, he was certain, and drew vile memories every time he fidgeted, trying to find some relief from the ache. He was no stranger to rough sex, but the size and brutality of the Olog far exceeded the select few passionate affairs he’d entertained before. 

“Rest.”

The command was groused too close, hot air tickling the tip of his ear and sending another shiver down his spine. He had tucked his face into the crook of the other’s chest. Tousled hair ruined by the dirt masked his expression, though his distress mattered little to the other and his hands curled the fabric closer to his naked person. 

“I cannot.” 

His reply was muffled since it’d been spoken into the leathers, but the Orc seemed to hear it nonetheless. The moment the other was out of sight, he would call upon the gods. His divinity was novice, but with it, he’d survive long enough to attempt a greater escape. He could endure this—he would endure this. 

“….so be it.” 

A shrug rolled through his broad shoulders, the other hissed at the stinging pull of his wounds. 

“Stop moving,” Khah’alva snapped, to which the Olog childishly jerked his one arm to yank the Drow up. A kiss was planted to the crown of his head, the act purely spiteful, before he growled against the elf’s scalp.

“Command me again, sweetling, and I’ll rut you into the ground till you bleed then have you crawl the way back.” 

The threat silenced him. So, he settled on scowling into the monster’s breastplate as he affectionately nuzzled into him. 

The walk was unpleasant, yet nothing was worse than when they arrived back at the commander’s stronghold. Many had scrambled to find the wayward prisoner; some for the reward, others for the chance to be spared for the failure of his escape. Horc’n was the first to greet the pair, and though the Drow was blind to the scathing glance cast his way, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Hushed jeers followed their approach. Many were lecherous in their comments, and while he’d sworn the Orc had flared with jealousy over Jar’duav, he seemed victorious when displaying his newest prize, never minding what slip of flesh was glimpsed or how the scent of sex lingered over the pair. 

“Endor Grun’tak—“ Horc’n started, panic thinly veiled under militant bearing.

“Tomorrow morning. Report to me then. If you haven’t yet, execute the others and stake their heads out front. I’ll be writing to their little matron soon,” Grun’tak ordered, pausing only to smirk at another pup’s leering of his pretty Elf, then adding coldly, “I’ll think on your deficiencies. May Gruumsh find mercy where I will not.”

With that, the Orc withdrew from the gathering of curious and awestruck eyes, stepping off to make his way to his own work-quarters. His home had too many points of entry. Since his darling companion fancied lockpicking, he didn’t want to fuss over his keeping. Blockish hallways gave way to a singular corridor which spiraled up into a tower. Narrow windows had been carved into the stones. They were spaced far in between and were hardly a few inches in width. Although the Dark Elves were petite, they weren’t that small. Scaling out of the room would be difficult, even more so if there was only one exit point, but he quietly tracked the route regardless. 

Eventually, they came to a heavy door, and despite the encircling lock on it, Grun’tak simply knocked thrice and it swung open. 

An arcane lock. Damn it all.

Another barrier, but not an impossible task. However, the room secured was a comparatively cozy one. The exotic pelts of various big game were spread about the circular floor. Peppered spots and clashing stripes of the animals made for a tacky combination, but certainly a warm one when compared to the frigid shale he’d been thrown on earlier. A desk of stone was embedded into the farthest wall, with a matching rock fireplace, and accented by a strange, copper basin. Its craftsmanship differed from the rest. Its charm was equally as bulky, but with tinkered accents stamped along its border. 

With the floor padded so well, Grun’tak took no issue with depositing his pet beside the fire, even granting him the kindness of his cloak. For the moment, that was. While his hands clutched the fabric to his chest still, he leaned toward the emanating heat, pointedly avoiding the other’s piercing gaze. The Orc, on the other hand, snorted at the little Elf’s demeanor. It was awfully cute, the way the Drow fussed and frowned and shrank away. 

Like a shrew, he thought, a smirk following the thought. 

As he busied himself with retrieving some water, he kept a corner-eye on his newest plaything. Khah’alva was as refined as porcelain. Yet, in the backdrop of crude furs and mottled browns, he looked so awfully out of place. Endearing, though. The sculpt of his features was soft, but angular. Marbled between gentled masculinity and a pervasive femininity, the Drow was a marvel. He was petite too, engulfed by the pooling fabric, and occasionally peeking up at him with slitted anger.             “You are so small .” The sentiment is crooned as if directed to a beloved cat, the Olog-Elder perching against the sink as he peered down at the other. He couldn’t fathom how the hateful creature managed him, not without breaking entirely. 

“.....perhaps to you.” The wry sentiment was uttered to the embers, Khah’alva refusing to grace the other with a glance. Another chuckle rumbled from his chest. They were all dainty, the Drow, but he supposed the one before him was marginally taller than the women. It was a slight difference, but a difference nonetheless. 

Grun’tak returned to his pet, settling cross-legged in front of him as his water-laden bowl sat to his right. There is an appreciative tenderness as rugged hands ghosted over the Elf’s flesh. For the moment, he was content to fawn over the other, eventually tugging him in a way that the Drow was forced to face him. It wasn’t gentle, his direction. Initially met with resistance, it’d taken a tutting snarl and the fatigued man relented, turning to sit crossly in front of Grun’tak before being corrected. “No,” the Orc murmured, “Spread yourself.” 

Alarm melted to understanding once the Olog gestured back to the bowl beside him. Water was warmed by the lit fire then, the heat of its crackling blaze rolling through the room with ample comfort. It’s by the gentle sweep of a rag that grazed charcoal skin, washing away the crusted remains that’d trickled down slender thighs. His touch returned to exploration of his lithe body. Rather than lustful groping, however, he applied the cloth with clinical care—a surprising feat, considering the flare of his nostrils and the darkening bloom of arousal in his pale irises.

The quiet was welcome for the moment, and while he felt muscles tense under the fleeting care, Grun’tak relished the sight of his work. His caresses lingered over the blotches that darkened already pitch-black flesh. His bite was savage, teeth having lifted skin and the glittering ruby of his pretty Elf’s blood dewing as it clotted along the puncture marks. There was a vindictive pride in the way the other’s puckered rim had loosened too, continuing to drip out his seed with every flinch, and the obscene streak of the orc’s own blood just shy of his kissable lips.

“There will be no Shaman for you,” Grun’tak murmured, wringing the rag before re-applying, “For Her Great Duties lie with our people and healers are few.” 

The Drow nodded absently, his gaze fixed on the fire past his perched assailant. A few more moments of peace would pass before the adventurous touch descended. He cringed as the Olog gave a fleeting squeeze to genitals with the washcloth. The smugness flickered at the trace of red rinsed from his aching asshole. It wasn’t that he wasn’t aware of injury to his little pet, but the lack of reaction hadn’t matched the extent of injury. How curious. His brow knitted together, the pressure of his palm to the other’s balls turning firm as he rolled them over with the damp fabric. Again, he winced in mild discomfort, but bit back any noise. 

“You’re no stranger to pain, my ‘Alva.” 

The Dark Elf froze, leveling the lecherous gaze warily, but not elaborating. 

“Lolth’s Gauntlet has trained you for me,” he continued, malice lacing the simmering glee in his tone, “The Gods’ have blessed me then, for such a cute little prize to endure all that is me .” 

He pressed the blunted knot of cloth to his abused hole, delighting in the hiss he elicited with every scraping swipe. Another minute was indulged in twisting and rubbing the raw chafe of the other’s groin before he retired the cloth altogether. Reaching into his belt, he withdrew an unlabeled jar from a satchel. There were various other dressings and vials, its supplies reflecting its medicinal function. The lid was removed and a pungent aroma immediately cut the air. Wrinkling his nose, Khah’alva tilted his head to look at its muddied contents, a questioning concern blooming in his features.

“This’s a balm,” Grun’tak grumbled, scooping up a dollop of the foul concoction, “Should help. I’ll have you again later.” 

His eyes narrowed, and while once submissive to his cleaning, he withdrew his legs into himself, attempting to squirm back. Irritation flared then, anger thinning his mouth into a fierce line. His hand snapped forward, fingers enclosing around his prey’s ankle, and yanked him forward. Khah’alva scrambled to grab at the rusg, desperate to find purchase, as he kicked out at the orc. The blow is easily dodged, and with another sharp pull, brought his slathered digits closer to the other’s puckered ring.

“No—“

“You will take this as you took my fingers, sweetling,” he seethed, annoyance shifting to fury, as he brandished the sharp talons coated with the ointment. 

“No, stop, I—I can heal it. Don’t—“

“Heal?” Anger dissipated, melting fast to earnest hope . The odds of a cleric in these dark hours were next to null. 

“Yes,” Zhah’alva stuttered, desperate, “Y-yes, let me, just—just don’t use that. ”

His eyes were transfixed on the tub with awfully sharp fear. Claws and injuries aside, it seemed as if he was equally fearful of the substance as he was his captor’s wrath. The idea of the Drow utilizing magic was a dangerous one, and while he’d thought the other nothing more than a weak swordsman, the call of something divine lurking within him could pose an issue. The Gods’ shielded their most holy, only the weak would be discarded so casually.  Then again, he was certain the Drow Mother was a cruel mistress, known to be even crueler to her men. 

“Go on then, pet. I will watch—and should your spells turn against me, my cock will be the one to treat you, should you survive,” Grun’tak warned, but settled back on his haunches, the gel shining in the dim light. Another nod was his only response, and while he glanced over their awkward proximity, he didn’t wish to risk the return of the Orc’s rage.  Shifting, the Dark Elf returned to his seated position. It was difficult to think with the surge of adrenaline kicked into his system. That, and the other’s clean hand had taken to drawing absentminded circles over his knee. Thumb stroking the soft flesh, the Olog leaned closer, breath bated with anticipation.

The acrid tang was one Khah’alva recognized at once: clitocybe. Far from medicinal, he was well-trained in the arts of poisons to know that its properties would do little other than fester the wound. His survival was his priority. Although he’d wished to keep any and all ability shrouded, to be poisoned while battered like so would only impede his odds of escape. This had been one of the reasons the cleric had hidden his swordsmanship as well. Their consistent underestimation had been his tactical advantage all along. Exhausted as he was, this was something simple he could pull from the fog well enough.   Indeed, Grun’tak watched with awe as his plaything closed his eyes, luscious lips formed words in a strange tongue as his white brows pulled together in strained concentration. He felt the air coil and reel, as if invisible forces struck the Elf rather than cradled him with its aid. Even more remarkable was watching the bruises lighten, shallow scratches all but disappear, and a breath of relief ease posture that was taut. There was no radiance to the healing, no flash of light or show for its merit other than the obvious: his injuries had improved in a matter of seconds.  With a rattling breath, he opened his eyes and nearly startled. He’d not forgotten the Olog’s presence, but he hadn’t heard him draw even closer in his inspection. As promised, the ointment was discarded, wiped away on the tacky rug, so he could settle his palms on Zhah’alva’s spread thighs. This was a blessing, yes, but a complication as well.

“You’re a cleric?”

“A novice—acolyte, really,” he clarified. Not quite a truth, but far from a lie. His hands rested on top of the other’s, and none too subtly, attempted to brush off the touch. There was much still to be learned, clearly. After all, the grievous bite had lessened, but was still present nonetheless.

“But you can heal?”

He nodded again. There was a hesitation to the admittance, namely because Grun’tak’s enthusiasm was bubbling more and more by the second. Thoughts ran wild. Solutions to impossibilities were fast becoming tangible, and with a sudden bark of laughter, he stood, scooping up his Drow companion. Never minding his flailing, he noted the lack of wincing as further evidence that any internal tears had been mended as well. Too surprised to react, he planted another open-mouth kiss to the Drow, chuckling still when he sputtered in disgust. The mind had deceitful repulsion, but he knew well by the spend he’d wiped from the other’s chest that Zhah’alva hadn’t been without ecstasy. 

“A reward,” he crooned, joy slating his previous frustration away with a twisted smile, “Gruumsh has graced me with you for our next raid. A prize you truly are. Oh, my little cleric, what reward do you seek? You were hiding such a gem from me for a reason, so I shall reward your honesty.”

Never mind it was for purely selfish reasons. The solution he presented far outweighed the insult of omission, and thus, he would grant some mercy. The other fidgeted, clearly trying to find some stability in the hold. He wished to be in any other place than here. Alone too. Recalling the Orc’s cruel promise, he gulped, gaze turning avoidant before hesitantly suggesting, “You—tonight you mentioned—could we not…?”

“Pick another gift.” 

Despite the abruptness, no irritation stemmed from the request. He was enthralled by the sculpt of the Drow, and though he yearned for a moment of solitude, Zhah’alva had no hope of such a thing. Instead, he ignored the nuzzling to his neck, focusing instead on something—anything that would alleviate the dread and disgust that left a film on him. 

“…..my personal possessions?” 

A flat look of disbelief was leveled then, to which the Drow continued. 

“Clothes, wash stuffs, and such. Nothing of danger, I mean.”

It was demeaning to request such simple things, things that were already his and had been since his conception, yet he was earnest in it. He had a foreboding feeling that his world was to be fraught with strife and turbulence soon. The violation to his person was a brutality he knew would be repeated. Even with its filth washed away, the phantom strokes and sensations haunted him. As did the pain, which while lessened greatly, was still there. 

A reminder. A constant reminder when coupled with the orc’s persistent touch. 

His small comforts would be his only prayer for some semblance of normalcy, of control. Although he would have seized the chance to take up arms against the warrior, even knowing he was likely to die by the other’s axe, there was at least a shred of dignity with such a fate. Left to bleed out from the rape of an Orc was not only horrific, but one of many tragedies he wished to avoid.  Misconception cleared, Grun’tak chewed over his words carefully. In truth, the categorization for their captives’ belongings was minimal. The supplies were often divided among his own; none taken survived their captivity, really. Yet, with the chaos of patrols and his plaything’s escape, the likelihood the Drows’ possessions were still in storage was high....

“I am generous.” Grun’tak huffed playfully, “So I will indulge my pretty Alva’s wish—“

Khah’alva sighed, relief almost bubbling to the surface before the orc finished his sentiment.

“—for a kiss. Submit. Kiss me, sweetling, and I will give the word to bring all you and your people’s things here. Pick what you like. You will only keep what I approve.”

The Dark Elf’s brow shot upward. There’s indignation in his gasp, frustration sending his hands up in a surprisingly flippant gesture. He was mindful to not actually strike the cause of his upset. Tempting as it was, his moods were as chaotic as the Church’s. He’d rather not inspire injury so soon after recovery. Eyes lifted to meet Grun’tak’s smug grin, his own gaze narrowing with quick thought. 

“What if….” He glanced at the discarded jar then at the Orc. “I counter your gesture with another truth? A greater one? Would that pay your penance?”

Grun’tak chuckled at that, his arms encircling tighter around the Drow as he drew him close. The lovely florals that he smelled had ebbed under the pervasive sweat and mud, yet he found the other intoxicating nonetheless. Perhaps that was one of the luxuries Khah’alva wished to reclaim. He hoped as much. Curiosity piqued, he swayed the Elf in his arms, cooing. 

“If your truth is greater? But of course.”

His tone reflected his doubt. As did the dubious look and his smirk. So, with his own retaliatory grace, the Drow snapped. 

“That ointment is laced with Clitocybe—it’s poisonous. Such a thing will fester your wounds and collapse your body, if given enough time.” 

At once, the gentle rocking ceased. Fingers twitched reflexively in their hold of the Elf, and his bastard smile vanished. Another step, and he dumped the Elf unceremoniously on the day-bed. 

“Don’t fucking move.” 

It was a command barked over his shoulder, as the Orc plucked up the jar and promptly stalked out of the room, door slamming behind him so hard it left the wood rattling. His fury lingered in the air. Tension melted into anxiety. While naked and perplexed on the soft covers, he considered following the order purely out of fear of repercussion. Footsteps thudded heavily down the steps, and while he was familiar with few of the brutish words Orcs used, the vast majority of his shouting was lost to the Elf. 

As far as he knew, he had a few minutes. A few minutes to salvage the vestigial remnants of his pride. A few minutes revel in the solidarity. Above all, though, a few minutes to investigate. He leapt to his feet, crossing the room in a few urgent strides, before settling at the other’s desk.  It was surprisingly organized. Little cluttered the surface, sans a robust ink pen, a cut geode, and achievements. He wondered idly what worth the blemished quartz meant, as compared to the other jeweled supplies or coins of honor, it felt out of place. Neverminding it, he moved on to the contents of the drawers. Papers were bound by different wires, colors dictating categories unknown to him with more words incomprehensible. Together, they spoke the common tongue of the Underdark, but apart, Grun’tak operated almost exclusively in Orcish.

Scowling, Khah’alva returned the sheets in precise order. He continued to flip through everything he could, noting recurring names duly. Perhaps the knowledge could be helpful. Perhaps it was inane dribble. Only time would tell. It wasn’t until he scoured the bottommost drawer that something of legible worth came to him: a courtesy map, torn and forgotten under other pressing paperwork. The other must have received it years prior, and in his line of duty, forgotten it. The Drow snatched some spare parchment, and with meticulous focus, copied a rudimentary floorplan of the fort. It was a simple map, and were there any other secrets within, this wouldn’t expose them. However, it gave him a better idea of the layout. No plan could be performed blindly. He annotated points in the Drow dialect, the landmarks would aid him only if he could make it. Next, he’d discern their patrol patterns….assuming he lived long enough to do so.  Despite his disgust, there was a singular benefit to the Leader’s lust: it kept him alive. How long he held that fancy, he’d no idea. If his tastes reflected his moods, he could only assume this wretched tryst would be just as short-lived. He returned the scrap of a map to the bottom of the pile, turning then to fold his own rendition to a tiny square. It’d have to be hidden. Somewhere. Somewhere that would be awkward or unlikely to invite the lord’s scrutiny. He scouted the chamber, eventually wedging the piece above the trimmed base behind a bookshelf. It’d be too low to catch even a cleaner’s eyes and the jutting edge of stone would keep it from being swept away. 

Satisfied, he moved over to the wash basin, turning the tap to find the water was still delightfully warm. To cleanse himself may alleviate the other’s rage, even if it defied his order to remain still. It certainly would mitigate some of his own revulsion.

Khah’alva assumed he’d rather waste the time molesting him than fuss with his hair. After all, the Olog hardly tended to his own properly. He’d rather have it short, and more than ever, he’d wished he’d cut it prior to this failed task. The appeal of such convenience had heightened every day of his travels, but with the Spider Queen’s malice towards anything remotely masculine, he’d maintained a style similar to his ‘sisters’. There was no soap nor did he see a comb readily available. While he held no qualms with pilfering the Orc’s belongings, he didn’t want the monster to know of it. Another bitter sigh, and the Drow began the tiresome work of untangling the muddy mess by hand.