#man-orc

[renguro]

[thatzombiecat]

he didn't sign up for this

🍂 commissions // twitter // inst // bsky

[just-some-trans-nobody]

(Nsfw)

Orc boyfriend who's really into breeding kink, but his human mate don't want/can't have children, so he just keep filling up his mate anyway

December Christmas Monster stories

December 4.) Orc Breeding

Orc boyfriend x gender neutral reader

Thank you for this request! Hope you and everyone else enjoys. This gave me way to much trouble, for some reason everytime I went to save it, it just wouldn't save.

Warning: NSFW, breeding, cream pie, unprotected sex, no prep before sex, mention of pregnancy, small amount of alcohol

Minors don't interact!

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Wanting to do something romantic for your boyfriend on christmas you kicked him out for a few hours so you can set everything up. He left with friends to go get drinks, promising you he would be back in two hours giving you plenty of time to set everything up. 

Spreading flower petals down on the floor from the front door you made a trail of them to the bedroom you shared with your large hunk of an orc you loved oh so dearly. Next you set up candles here and there letting their sweet aroma fill the air. Turning on the stereo you put on a long playlist of songs to get nasty too, you knew to put on an extra long one, Grogmar loved to take his sweet time having his way with you and you loved that. The last step was to put on sexy Christmas lingerie. It was lacey with fuzzy white trim, leaving nothing to the imagination. 

Picking your phone up you shot him a text to check and see when he would be back. Playing it safe you sent another text telling him to come alone for his surprise, you didn’t want to risk his buddies seeing you like this. You didn’t get a text right away so you set your phone down on the nightstand walking away just as you got a text back from him saying he had just parked. Going to the kitchen you pulled out two glasses and poured some champagne into them.

Hearing the door unlocking you picked the two glasses and stepped out of the kitchen right in time for Grogmar to open the door. His eyes looked to you and widened as he went stiff taking in the sight of you dressed like that. Grinning you struck a pose popping your hip out lightly. “Merry christmas~” You purred while holding up one of the glasses for him. Stepping inside he closed the door not breaking his stride as he approached you. With one hand he took the glass from you, his other hand going to your ass. His hand covered all of your cheek with it’s large size. “Now this is a merry christmas. Might be my favorite gift so far.” He chuckled, leaning in catching your lips with his in a heated kiss. Moaning against his lips you pressed your body against him feeling that he was already growing hard. Pulling away he trailed kisses down to your neck, his tusks rubbing against you as he kissed you like a desperate man. “Let’s take this to the bedroom.” You moaned as he continued to attack your neck in kisses. 

“Can’t wait that long.” He mumbled against your neck before he hosted you up in one arm. Carrying you to the table he set you down on the edge before setting his glass down next to you. Watching him step back you brought your own glass up to your lips taking a long sip as he fumbled with his pants. “So eager to use your gift hmm~?” You teased watching as he finally got it off. “Always eager when it’s with you.” Grogmar said as he stepped in between your legs going back to kissing you neck drawing a moan from your lips. His hands gripped your thighs rubbing them at a rough pace as he gave them a squeeze. Moaning he grinded against you wanting any sort of friction. “Grog please.” You whispered, leaning your head back. “Please fuck me, fill me up with your cum.” You knew how exactly to push his buttons, you knew just how much that would rile him up and it did. Groaning against your next he pulled your legs open wider as he pushed his wide tip into you earning a moan from you. Grabbing onto his shoulders you had to hold onto him for support as he pushed more of his cock into you. No matter how many times he had taken you he was always just so damn big, he had to be careful at the start.

Panting you pressed your head against his chest, a soft whine leaving you as he stretched you open wide. “Doing so good for me baby, gonna fill you up so much. Yer gonna look pregnant once I’m done with you.” Grogmar knew that was impossible but the thought always got him hot and bothered. It rubbed a more feral part of his brain so nicely thinking about breeding you. Hearing your loud moan brought him back to reality, he was getting easily lost in the pleasure already. “You take me so well.” He moaned, thrusting into you harder causing you to cry out. “Oh fuck! Grog! Yes fuck just like that.” You screamed out not caring how loud you were getting, you couldn’t care less at that moment. His cock just felt too good, you didn’t think you could hold in any sounds even if you tried to. The wet sounds of his sloppy thrusts were barely covered up by the music playing in the background. “You love it when I pound you like this don’t you? You love when my cock stretches you so well.” Grog moaned, lifting your legs up onto his shoulders. Leaning down he pressed his chest to yours. His cock reaching into you deeper with his new position. Trying to answer him your words came out as moaning gibberish unable to talk as he fucked you stupid. “Gods look at you. The devinines would be jealous of your beauty.” He praised kissing your jaw. “Fuck! Grog!” Was all you were able to say as you let out a choked moan. “F-fill me up… Need it… please please!” You whined as you started to claw at his back. Grogmar groaned feeling your nails on his back, it was a good kind of pain he was more than happy to feel. He would gladly show them off if you managed to leave a scar from it, though it was unlikely to happen. You could feel his cock twitch inside of you as he grew closer to his orgasim, you were close too. “How could I say no when you're asking so nicely?” He asked as he started to thrust faster slamming his hips into in a unrelenting pace. Throwing your head back against the table you let out a scream of pleasure as you tightened around him cumming. Your tightness drove him to the edge causing him to cum inside of you. “Yes of fuck Grog fill me up with your cum!” You moaned encouraging him. Bending over you he grunted and groaned as he kept thrusting, riding out his orgasmism making sure he got every drop of his seed into you. Panting his hips slowed to a stop as he pressed his head against your shoulder. “Haa~ felt so good.” He mumbled gently rubbing your thighs. “You're always so good for me.” Grogmar praised placing gentle kisses all over your shoulder and neck. “Mm you do too Groggy. Now let's get cleaned up and unwrap the other gifts.” You said trying to sit up a little. “Did you forget what I said?” Grogmar whispered tusks grazing against your neck as he spoke. Confused and a little dazed, you looked down at him. Opening your mouth you began to ask what he meant when you let out a sudden moan feeling a harsh thrust. “You're going to look pregnant once I’m done and you don’t look pregnant yet so I ain’t done yet.” He explained, his grip on your thighs tightening again as he continued to thrust into you. Moaning you laid back down on the table more than happy to keep going. This definitely was your best Christmas yet.

[running-with-kn1ves]

Could you do Orc Tribal Leader X Reader on your wedding night?

A/N: I SWEAR I'm literally just writing the same stuff over again b/c I had a story just like this, but you know what I never get tired of it because its like a top fantasy bro. Hope this one was better than that version at least

Content warnings: Forced Marriage, kidnapping, attempted escapes, nonconsensual touching, infantilization of reader  

Synopsis: Your village, destroyed and burned. Your life picks up somewhere you would never have imagined. Maybe, death is a better option than being an orc’s spouse. 

Word Count: Approx. 2600 

The autumn solstice was a bountiful, beholden time of year. From the greeneries of cabbage and the fowls hatched in summer now fully grown, there was much to be harvested and ripened for the taking. Your town was boisterous, full of life with a variety of competitors and businesses attempting to lurch at any tourist’s or local’s wallet to get them to buy countless crops, meat, and woven goods.  

Your tiny tea shop, suffering from last July’s drought, was finally starting to perk up with re-growth. Black tea, jasmine, bergamot, even hybrid blends like crushed raspberry and chamomile-- you could assemble enough to raise prices, label the small reaping as an imported foreign good luck charm that when drunken, blessed women with marriage prospects and men with wealth.  

That was, before however, you became bound and gagged to a chair, pleasantries being exchanged around you in a language harsh in your ears. The fires... You remember them well, the putrid stench of charred meat from the butcher next door, his body even more ablaze. Your jade boxes of fine silk bags meant for holding gifts of tea, becoming laden with ash and dust. Every scrap of money you saved up under the floorboards disappearing into floating particles and melted coins.  

“Brutes,” Your uncle called them, “deranged beasts with only two things in mind: bloodlust and greed.” 

Orcs were not well-received in a conservative, fearful town of humans. Even the elves, seen as symbols of beauty in mortal standards, were causes of paranoia and irritation whenever they made their rounds nearby.  

It was no wonder that the lines of tusked, olive-fleshed creatures in animal skin were spotted, the guards of your small city went on a rampage. Bows and arrows were no match for iron bones and teeth of steel.  

You, were no match for anything wider than a tree trunk. So when fire caught to your village, your home now rampaged for its finest ‘offerings’ to the orcs, you were left to be eaten by the licking flames. And yet, was it a blessing or a curse that one of the warriors decided to haul you on his back, doting on how “nicely you’ll do” as a wedding gift. You didn’t realize that the gift was to be part of the ceremony yourself.  

With smoke in your lungs and your eyes blurred by dirt and ash, you watched the ceiling cave in on your tiny tea-filled shack, bright orange and red dancing from behind the window panes as you drifted away.  

Daraktan is spoken all around you, harshly and with flicking tongues. You can hear snippets of English, wondering what’s going on behind the black veil covering your head. You don’t dare remove it, recalling what the orc woman, supposedly your now husband’s ‘mother’ telling you in your native tongue.  

“Touch this, and you will surely die. My alfhild will remove it, when it is time.”  

And so, you wait. Digging your fingernails into your palms, crying quietly in heavy furs and leather, the occasional hand coming to pull your shaky one to their mouths, kissing the tip of your index finger.  

“Aka’magosh..” They mumble to you, seemingly more at the body to your right. 

The calloused hand of someone much larger than you, whom you have assumed is your husband from his constant appearance nearby, occasionally comes to grace your back, to rest a hand on the top of your head, to smoothen your veil or the soft fur shawl on your legs.  

His hearty laugh hurts your ears, the jingles of the metal jewelry he adorns constantly making noise as he shifts.  

“Please..” You whisper, praying, to whoever may be listening. Why you? Why, out of all the fair, eligible humans of your town, were you picked out from the rubble to be “saved”? To be married to a faceless orcish man, who would surely break you in half before morning? 

The bitter cold of coming winter brushes against your legs. You can feel that you’re not inside wooden walls, and yet unnatural lighting seems to shine through your veil at times.  

“Omulork, I think I will take my… wedding gift, to be with in solitude.” 

Loud, deep laughs fill the room, the guttural voices of female orcs being swallowed up by uncountable numbers of warriors surrounding you. Your body shivered as a gust of wind blew in, the autumn breeze barely being kept at bay from where you sat.  

“Enjoy the festivities, shedzvagas!”  

His unique husk leaves everyone in the room to cheer in their orcish language, tough and painful pats coming to your back, the festive shakes to your shoulder nearly making you topple. 

That same heated, abrasive hand comes to grab your roped wrists, lurching you firmly, yet gently from your place on the ground. Panic started to fill your stomach as it rose to your chest, the warm aura of an orc next to you radiating to heat you from the chilly weather outside.  

Now. It was now or never. You didn’t want to think anymore what he would do to you when you were alone, when you had no one to cry to for help.  

Your feet moved before the thought finished crossing your mind. Your hands shook as you stumbled in a sprint forward. You passed thick bodies as you ran blindly, making it a mere five steps before a pair of meaty hands grabbed you by the hips. 

“A feisty one, Gar’mak!” The sounds of the orc woman who forced you into your wedding attire spoke up, a drunken laugh leaving her plump lips. “Alfhild, better not leave it out of your sight.” 

You hated how clear the English they used was to your ears, how human they all sounded, how when they spoke in your native tongue-- it was meant for your ears. She wanted you to know, to let the fear soak into your chattering teeth.  

The orc keeping you captive merely laughed, tossing your weightless body to his shoulder just like he had done when pulling you from the cobble of what was left of your tea shop. 

You screamed, biting down on what you could reach from under your veil. But the salty, thick flesh from beneath you was aloof, offering no reaction as a double pat was brought to your buttocks.  

“Now now, Djenifor, don’t fuss.” Gar’mak mused, each step he took forward making your body thump against his. He held a tight grip on you, not caring for the scratches you layered his back with. “I won’t try to hurt you… I will keep you safe, try my best to keep your fragile body in one piece.”  

The coldening night air was a drastic change to the room of heavy body heat and weighty movement where the wedding ritual and festivities were held. Now, it was quiet. You could hear the loud chattering begin to drift, songs and chants rising again as they once had when you were unceremoniously married to your new ‘husband.’  

Gar’mak patted your butt again, moving down to rub at the back of your thigh with a gentle, firm rhythm. He seemed to hum to himself, satisfied with the nights events. Scored himself a spouse and the treasured belongings of a human town.  

He must be pretty proud of himself, you seethed.  

The tears were beginning to sting the corners of your eyes, frantically scratching at the orcs back when you felt the warmth of an enclosed area meet your skin.  

“No, no--” You began to kick, trying to shove off the arm holding you steady on the orcs’ shoulder.  

“Settle down now--” Gar’mak ordered softly, putting you down on the fuzzy ground. You managed to hit his face, the hard scrape of tusks scratching your hand as a firm nose nearly cracked your knuckles.  

The orc went silent. Quiet in rage, he rips your veil away with a grip hard enough to tear hair out if he so desired.  

Your eyes take a moment to adjust to the dimly lit tent, lanterns glowing at the corners as the mass of a creature leers over you. You forgot just how… big, orcs were. From afar they looked small, bigger than a human, but no threat due to distance. But now… he was above you, twice your height, twice your size, twice if not thrice everything. His palm the size of your skull, his eyes gleaming and looking over your body, weak with exhaustion and fright.  

Small, intentional scars were placed under his auburn eyes, some kind of tribe symbol you were sure. Thick eyebrows furrowed at the way tears decorated your cheeks, the exhales from his flat nose blowing hot breath on your chest.  

“Please, I, I can’t, I don’t belong--” You fumble over yourself, trying to slide back on the floor of soft wolf and caribou furs.  

“Shh, shh now,” The orc puts a hand to your ankle, an action that jerks you to a stop. “I won’t hurt you, lebam…” 

You sincerely doubt that, but the sentiment sounds genuine from his broken, baritone voice. 

“What’s your name?” He asks, pulling slowly with immeasurable strength at your leg. You slide towards him with little strain, even with your muscles going rigid for you to stand your place, your fingernails digging into the ground beneath you.  

You shake out your name, reluctant to give it.  

“Ah. What a human name; a scared wee human, aren’t you?” 

You don’t dare to respond, waiting for the sound of your snapping ankle. 

“They call me Gar’mak, though that may be too difficult for simple human brains. Mak is fine, little Djenifor…” 

You don’t want to call him anything, to refer to him at all-- yet, he looks keen to hear you say it. There’s an expectation in his eyes, a flick of his giant tongue against his lips.  

“Mak..” You mumble, trying not to gag.  

“Yes…” The orc’s hand frees your leg, caressing up to your cheek as he wipes away a forgotten wet stream of tears.  

“Please, just let me go--” You beg under your breath, scared of the way he seems to be eyeing your knees, your frail neck, your round ears.  

“You know that’s not going to happen,” He doesn’t seem angry at you for asking, just… Sorry. “We are bound forever now; even the gods couldn’t tear us apart. Wherever you go, I will find you. Whenever I leave, you will feel me gone. By sunrise tomorrow your scars will be given, and you will become one of us.”  

The panic begins to settle once again in your stomach. Maybe, tonight, yes-- tonight, if you could escape. You could-- just maybe you could find a way, past their all-seeing eyes, their all-hearing ears, escape to the mountains they took to get you here. 

 “But can’t you change it back?” Your voice cracks, expression twisting into an ugly cry as you feel thick fingers dig into your hair. “Just, we can go back-- just let me be…”  

You sob for what feels like too long, hours maybe, Gar’mak’s eyes never leaving you as he pulls you to his thigh. He brings a cotton blanket to your legs as he shushes you, the tenderness of his eyes a foreign sight compared to the façade he forced you to endure during the night's festivities.  

When your cries had turned to miserable, quiet sniffles, a muscled knuckle finds its way under your chin. He turns your head to look at him, eyes red and droopy as you try to think of any method of escape.  

“You’ll learn to like it here, human.” Gar’mak thinks for a moment, caressing your leg with a single finger.  

 “We are far more civilized than your kind-- far more… Fair. You’ll be treated well. The spouses of warriors do not go unfed, unbathed. Unloved, most of all. You will be cherished; I will cherish you, as long as you let me.”  

The orc grips your jaw in his hand, firm enough to where his fingers made dimples in your cheeks, but softly to where you felt like a mouse in someone’s closing palm. A kiss was planted to your temple, your body pushed deep against your husband’s as he holds you close enough to suffocate. You wait for him to choke life from you, and yet it never comes. He is harsh with his touches, but not harsh enough to hurt.  

“Please, let's finish tonight how it was meant to go, hm? Let me hold you…” He murmurs, all soft and lamblike into your ear. It sends shivers down to your soles, hot breath layering your neck as he looks at your lips with such intensity.  

You fear saying no, but the word rises up to your throat.  

It doesn’t make it out in time. Lips engulf yours, the stiff coldness of bone-colored tusks brushing against your face as Gar’mak holds you tight. Just one kiss is enough to make his demeanor act up.  

Your unassuming, comfort-driven spot on his lap is altered swiftly. You find yourself straddling the orcs’ waist, a hand pressed against the back of your head as your tied hands remain useless against his chest.  

You don’t know whether to speak, to scream, to bite at his lips-- but you remain flexile, afraid of the rough hand holding your skull so tenderly, the other gripping your thigh to wrap around his flank. You’re like a resistant doll, licked lips becoming tender as the orc pushes against you with such tenacity.  

You see his eyes open, staring into your wide, unblinking ones. They seem to communicate more than just lust-- its desire, desire for your reciprocation.  

Gar’mak waits… he kisses you, eyes narrowed on standby for your submission. They’re hazy and make you wonder if this is enough to make him release his brutish side, the part that showed no mercy for your neighbors or your home. What would happen, if you broke away or dared to claw at him?  

That thought doesn’t stay for long, not when the tough hand on the back of your head moves to your neck, squeezing just enough to bruise.  

You wince, lips pursing in reaction just in time for his next tongued assault.  

That slight opening of your mouth, the press of your lips against his, is all he needed. You find yourself twisted beneath his body as you’re brought to lay on the furry floor, the orc lying above you.  

“That’s right, I’ll be soft Djenifor… just do as I command, keep smelling so sweetly for me.” 

Scars litter his shoulders and collarbone, metal necklaces and piercings dangling on his olive-green, lightly haired chest as you fear how much it would take for him to crush you.  

He’s so quiet, letting go of your mouth as the orc’s curled tongue licks a slow, wet stripe down your jaw. His hands grab your thighs to wrap your legs around him, intent on keeping you steady and so close you practically breathe the same air.  

Before he leans to kiss you feverishly again, the orc brushes your cheek with his knuckles, petting down the amalgamated fabrics you wear to commemorate your wedding.  

 “You’re so lucky I found you first, that I had saved you from that rubble without layering an extra scratch; my brethren would not be so kind.”  

He kisses your cheek, a soft, hungry grin playing on his plumped and tusked lips. “So stay pliant like this for me, wee human, and you won’t feel any pain.” 

You lay rigidly, squeezing your eyes shut as a tender, all-consuming kiss eats you up, preparing you for the night’s affairs.  

[cowboythewizard726]

beautiful orc girl leed helllOOOOO beautiful leed alert oh my GOD she's so cool WOOAHHHH beautiful siilly girl she was really pretty and awesome and so kind i think shes wonderful and there should be a statue made just for her thats really big and in the center of everything and she should get anything she wants ever smile face

[tanoraqui]

Kabru: [lies to Laios’s face about sharing his interests, in a deliberate scheme to befriend him]

Kabru: [watches Laios have a knock-down, drag-out fistfight with Shuro when he found out that Shuro has been lying to him for years about being friends]

Kabru: Huh.

Kabru: …Skill issue.

Kabru: [continues lying to Laios’s face]

[thenotoriousscuttlecliff]

"Orcs are pure evil" feels more like a Jackson movie viewpoint than a Tolkien one because those movies had a very simplistic, black and white view of the Orcs. They were just the Dark Lords cruel minions who only lived to fight, eat, and kill. Tolkien's conception of them was more nuanced. They weren't pure evil, more a pitiful people, virtually broben beyond all repair by the cruelty of their maker.

There were Orcs in LOTR who talk about being sick of fighting for Sauron and wanted to just leave. He also wasn't no opposed at all to the idea that there were Orc women:

The writers of Rings of Powers seem to subscribe more to Tolkien's view of the Orcs than Jackson's, showing us the deep rooted tragedy of the Orcs. They're not saying that Orcs are actually good, but only that they are not simply just one thing.

[jeeaark]

In Regards to Face-Grabbing Pep Talks Becoming A Thing This Team Does Now

And Platonic dancing lessons mind you. Greygold just really cherishing their friendship right now.

What golden flecks of memory I have left of Monster-Hunter Wyll's response to Greygold's 'you must think me a monstrosity' commentary was really friggin' heartwarming.

Uplifted Greygold's spirits after Lae'zel's reaction had felt....foreboding! Maybe their love life is in shambles but, by gods, are their friendships just. So good. So good. Can and Wyll Will move mountains for. Now with telekinesis.

Knowing their friends still love them even with extra bits, Greygold won't hesitate to charge into whatever comes their way in stride.

[toxooz]

finished a page early so im allowed to finish one (1) Ollie wip as a treat

[n1ght0f-nyx]

WOVEN BONDS IS AMAZING!!!!! Pls make part 2,3,4,5,6 😭🫡💖

woven bonds pt 2

this was very requested so here we are!!

You've been sold to an orc by your father, and after shutting yourself in for a few weeks, youve finally started to come to enjoy your new husbands company

warnings/tags- bedrotting, arranged marrige but pertah loves you so thats nice, pert'ah speaks with semi-broken english

word count- 1167

The days that followed were filled with silence, but it was a different kind of silence. No longer filled with the heavy weight of anger or hopelessness, it was instead filled with uncertainty. Pert'ah continued his routine—bringing you food, speaking to you in soft tones, always giving you space while he worked outside or wove intricate tapestries by the hearth. He never pushed, never demanded anything from you.

Yet, you felt a change inside yourself.

It was small at first. One morning, after he had left a bowl of fruit by your bedside, you reached out and took a piece, biting into it with a sense of resignation. It was sweeter than you had expected, and you found yourself eating more. That night, you ate a bit of the stew he left. It wasn’t the same as the dishes from your old home, but it was warm, hearty, and made with care.

Pert'ah noticed. You could see the relief in his eyes when he glanced at the empty bowl later that day. He didn’t say anything, but the gentle way his lips turned upward spoke volumes. 

As days passed, you started to leave the bed for longer periods. You’d sit by the window and watch him work outside. Pert'ah would spend hours weaving, his large hands surprisingly nimble as they guided the threads into beautiful patterns. Sometimes, he would carve small figures out of wood or clay, his concentration deep as he brought the raw materials to life. The more you watched him, the more you saw the softness behind his hardened exterior. There was an artistry to everything he did, a careful thoughtfulness.

Slowly, you began to speak to him.

It wasn’t much at first—a word here, a question there—but Pert'ah’s eyes lit up each time you addressed him. His responses were always careful, his voice soft and unsure as if he feared saying the wrong thing and scaring you away.

One evening, you found yourself standing outside the hut, watching him work on a large tapestry. The orange light from the setting sun filtered through the trees, casting warm shadows over his figure. He glanced up when he noticed you, his brow furrowing slightly as if he couldn’t believe you were there.

"I… I work on this for winter," he said, standing up slowly, dusting off his hands. "Keep us warm."

You nodded, stepping closer. The tapestry was beautiful, its rich colors weaving together in patterns of leaves and flowers. It was unlike anything you had ever seen, a testament to his skill.

"It’s… it’s beautiful," you said softly, your voice quiet but sincere.

Pert'ah’s eyes widened slightly. He looked at you as though you had given him the greatest compliment in the world. His lips parted, but he didn’t speak right away. Instead, he took a step toward you, his large hand tentatively reaching out as though he wanted to touch your arm, but he hesitated.

"You think so?" he asked, his voice low, almost shy. "I… I make it for you. For us."

You felt something in your chest stir at his words, a warmth that was unfamiliar but not unpleasant. Pert'ah had been nothing but kind to you, patient in a way you had never expected from an orc. And now, as you stood in the golden light of dusk, watching him look at you with such raw vulnerability, you realized you were no longer as angry as you once were.

In the days that followed, you found yourself drawn to him more and more. Pert'ah would tell you stories of his clan, how he had been raised as a weaver and how orc culture was not as warlike as humans believed. He would sit by the fire in the evenings, his deep voice filling the room as he spoke of the orcs’ long history of craftsmanship, of art, and of building rather than destroying.

And slowly, your barriers began to crumble.

One night, after dinner, you sat together in the hut, the fire crackling softly as you both shared a quiet moment. Pert'ah was working on another carving, his large fingers skillfully shaping the wood into something delicate. You watched him for a while, fascinated by the contrast between his size and the gentleness of his craft.

"Why… why do you make so many things?" you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Pert'ah paused, looking up at you with a small smile. "I make because I love it. It make world… more beautiful." His eyes softened as they met yours. "And now… I make for you."

The way he said it, so simple and yet so full of meaning, made your heart skip a beat. Pert'ah wasn’t just making things to fill the space. He was making them for you, offering pieces of himself in every woven thread and carved figure. 

Over time, Pert'ah became more than just the orc you had been forced to marry. He became the person you looked forward to seeing each day, the one who spoke to you with care and treated you with a tenderness that slowly melted away your fears.

Pert'ah, for his part, was falling deeper in love with you with each passing day. He adored every small smile you gave him, every word you spoke. It was as though you were the center of his world now, and he wanted nothing more than to make you happy. He would wake up early to prepare your meals, always trying new dishes to see which ones you liked. He would carve small figures for you, weaving your favorite flowers into tapestries.

His love grew more intense, almost obsessive, but never in a way that felt suffocating. He watched you with reverence, always making sure to give you the space you needed, but it was clear in his eyes—Pert'ah was head over heels in love. You had become his muse, his heart, and every moment with you only deepened his feelings.

One night, as you sat together by the fire, Pert'ah spoke softly, his voice filled with emotion.

"[Name]… I never think I can feel like this. You make my heart… full." He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. "I love you. I love you more than anything. I do anything for you. Alway.."

Your breath caught in your throat at his confession. You could feel the depth of his feelings, the way his eyes searched yours for any sign of rejection or acceptance.For the first time, you didn’t shy away. Instead, you reached out, placing your hand gently on his. His skin was warm, rough but comforting beneath your touch.

"I don’t know if I’m ready to say that yet," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "But… I do care about you, Pert'ah."

His face lit up with a smile so wide it made your heart flutter. "That enough for me. I wait for you..alway.."

And for the first time since your marriage, you smiled back.

[oldschoolfrp]

A thief nimbly steps past drunken man-orc guards after prying a giant ruby from the eye of a statue with his dagger (Don Greer, Down in the Dungeon, Squadron/Signal Publications, 1981). This looks like a nod to Trampier's iconic AD&D Players Handbook cover, also referenced by Holloway in I3: Pharaoh.

[sootchild]

Dungeon Meshi styled El.

[khadgarbignaturals]

what if there was an orc in a miniskirt and thigh highs. a big, beefy, hairy orc in a skirt. what if. life could be a dream

[elderly-scrolls]

we've been playing a little Good Society game inbetween our main campaign and it's been SO much fun. i had to draw some of the cast.

lysander & edward are the PCs and the rest are (some of) their immediate circle! florienne is lysander's younger sister who inherited his title after he was exiled. she also ended up marrying lysander's former fianceé, clarissa. it worked out pretty well for them 🥰

[art instagram] 🎨 [art twitter]

[malcolmschmitz]

Now that I've got your attention...

Howdy, Tumblr! I'm a queer disabled writer with Some Stupid Problems! Namely: the government decided that, because I made A Small Amount from my writing for two months in 2023, they need to cut my benefits by A Large Amount for an undisclosed amount of time!!

So yeah, I'm suphering from a tiny amount of suksess. Obviously, I'm trying to get off benefits. I have been for years. But to do that, I need your help!

Please buy my books. If you've bought them, please leave a review at your favourite digital storefront. If you've bought them and reviewed them, please tell your friends- word of mouth is the only way tiny queer indie artists can survive these days.

Thank you so much, and I hope you guys have a wonderful day!

[just-some-trans-nobody]

Orc boyfriend head canons

Warnings: mentions of sex, swearing, mentions of war, mentions of hunting, brief mention of blood.

Minors Don't Interact!

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Big scary orc boyfriend whose taken down dire wolves with his bare hands terrified by a little mouse. His tiny human lover has to catch the mouse and put it outside while he freaks out.

He'll give you all the kisses in the world after that praising you for being so brave.

May or may not give thanks by burying his face between your legs for a few hours.

He likes bring you back his trophys of war and hunting, he knows he doesn't have anything to prove but he still likes showing off to you.

Loves rubbing his tusks against you while cuddling in bed. Heart eyes and smitten if you kiss his tusks.

Would die on the spot if he saw you wearing only pelts from animals he killed. Run back to that bed or else your getting railed on the closest surface he can find.

Is ok with doing you in front of all his friends but if your not comfortable with it he won't push the topic at all. He respects your choices

Will try to take you hunting though, mostly so he can show off but it's also a bonding experience for him.

Likes picking you up and puting you on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes with his hand on your ass. He'll walk around your home and even outside if you let him.

He thinks putting a bear pelt down in front of the fire place with a couple of bottles of mead is the most romantic thing in the world and will pull this move any time he feels romantical or if you need a night of pampering.

He also thinks battling side to side covered in your enemy's blood is just as romantic.

Lord this man is bad at reading, he's more a himbo type. Sit on his lap and read out loud to him he will absolutely love it. His arms will wrap around you holding you close as you read to him. Better yet let him use your lap as a pillow while you read to him.

If you have hair long enough please let him brush and braid it he loves it. Do the same to him he finds it intimate and rather romantic.

Oh boy oh boy ask him about his scars and his tattoos, he'll spend hours telling you about them in great details.

In his mind your alredy married but if you explain to him you want a wedding he will be more than happy to listen to how you would want it and try to get as close to that as possible. He's going to go all out for the wedding sex too.

He has a tattoo in honor of you. May have more than one.

Would be so happy if you got a tattoo that had to do with him but wouldn't be disappointed if you didn't.

If you have any pets he treats them like their your children.

Will bread you in hopes of having your kids even if it's impossible for number of reason's. Still fun to pretend.