#tag: troll
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Male Troll/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 3,343 Tags & Warnings: plus size monster Part One (here) | Part Two (coming soon!) Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist
You’re an escort, but the last thing you expected was to fall for your favourite client.
You pause outside the sleek facade of the restaurant, the cool evening air caressing your skin. Glancing at your phone one last time, you scroll through Sorrel's profile, absorbing every detail. Sorrel, an unusual name for an even more unusual client.
Trolls rarely make their way into the heart of the city, preferring the solitude of their natural dwellings. Yet here you are, about to meet one for dinner in one of the most upscale places in town.
Your job often demands a chameleon-like ability to adapt, to mould yourself into whatever your clients desire. A laugh here, a sympathetic nod there, all performed with the ease of a well-rehearsed play.
Sorrel's request is refreshingly simple: just company, and above all, authenticity. It's both refreshing and daunting. How long has it been since you were asked to simply be yourself?
Taking a deep breath, you tuck your phone away. Your reflection in the restaurant's glass doors gives you a moment's pause—a young woman, elegantly dressed, poised on the edge of an unfamiliar encounter.
With a final steadying breath, you push the door open and step into the warm, amber-lit interior.
A pretty waitress, with a smile as polished as the cutlery, guides you through the restaurant when you enter. The beauty of the place unfolds around you; all soft lighting and hushed tones. Chandeliers cast a golden glow over tables draped in pristine white linen, each adorned with delicate glassware and silver.
The murmur of conversation blends with the gentle clinking of dishes, and soft, classical music plays. It doesn’t strike you as the kind of place a troll would like; they’re known for their love of natural living, not fine-dining.
As you take in the opulence, a flutter of self-consciousness washes over you. The elegance of your surroundings makes you feel suddenly underdressed, and you can't help but wonder about Sorrel. The cost of dining here must be astronomical; does he intend to make a statement, perhaps to showcase you as a trophy of his affluence?
As you approach the booth, you see him. Sorrel is a striking figure, a hulking presence that commands the space around him. His mossy green hair, a wild, natural crown, complements the dense fur that covers his body. His eyes, sharp and discerning, fix on you, and there's an intelligence in his gaze that belies the brutish stereotype of his kind. Despite the tailored suit that strains slightly against his muscular frame, there's no disguising the power in his broad shoulders, the soft curve of his belly. The suit, while elegant, seems almost a concession to human norms, doing little to mask his inherent, rugged appeal.
A wave of unexpected attraction washes over you, stirring a flush of excitement in your stomach. It's an odd sensation, this pull towards someone so different.
Gathering your composure, you slide into the booth, the soft leather cool against your skin. The space between you and Sorrel crackles with an energy as you offer a gentle smile.
"Hello," you begin, your voice well-rehearsed. You're acutely aware of your posture, the calculated tilt of your head, the practiced smile. Sorrel asked for authenticity, but it’s difficult when faced with such an imposing man.
Sorrel's response, however, is not what you anticipate. His voice, deep and resonant, carries a gentleness that seems at odds with his formidable appearance. "Good evening," he rumbles, his sharp eyes softening. "I hope the night finds you well."
As he speaks, the tension in your shoulders begins to ebb. There's a sincerity in his words, a vulnerability that peeks through the confident exterior.
With a smile, you turn to the menu. You hesitate, the array of exquisite dishes foreign and intimidating. There are a lot of words, and a lot of words that you don’t understand.
Maybe sensing your uncertainty, Sorrel leans in. His hands brush against yours, and the warmth of him makes you shiver..
"The risotto is my favourite. The salmon, too - it’s this one here, at the bottom."
You glance up at him, face flushed. You’ve been on countless escort jobs, and it’s always just been that. A job. Yet, as you soak in Sorrel’s warmth, his fur tickling your palm, something stirs inside you.
The words stick in the back of your throat as a waitress arrives. All you can do is nod in agreement as Sorrel makes a suggestion, and the waitress departs with your order.
There's a lull in the conversation, a moment of silence as you take in the man before you. "I must admit," you find yourself saying, breaking the quiet with a nervous laugh, "I didn't expect someone like you to be in a place like this." The words are out before you can stop them, and a flush of embarrassment warms your cheeks. "I mean, I made assumptions based on... well, what I thought I knew about trolls. I'm sorry."
Sorrel's laughter, rich and warm, fills the space between you. "No offense taken," he assures, his smile genuine. "I often find myself frequenting these types of restaurants. The same way the forest holds its charm, so does a well-crafted dish or a beautifully composed piece of music."
"I've not had the chance to dine in places as grand as this very often," you admit with a laugh, the restaurant's opulence still wrapping around you like a soft blanket. "It's a rare treat. You must do quite well for yourself, Sorrel. What is it that you do?"
Sorrel sets his glass down, the light catching the deep green of his eyes. "I left my clan some years ago," he begins, his voice solemn now. "We had... differing views on how to engage with the expanding human world. I believed in integration, in finding a way to coexist beneficially."
You lean in, captivated by his story, the depth of his conviction. "So, what did you do?"
"I started my own company," he says, a hint of pride in his voice. "We specialize in eco-friendly construction materials. It sounds dull, I know, but it’s something I care about."
Your chest flutters. "That's incredible," you respond, genuinely impressed. "Although, I’m sorry about your family.
He shrugs. “Don’t be, it’s been a long time since I’ve been back home.”
The arrival of the meal serves as a delicious interruption, and the garlicky, savoury smell makes your mouth water. The risotto you chose under Sorrel's recommendation is creamy and rich, with the earthy aroma of truffles enveloping you. Sorrel's salmon is presented with an artistry that matches the taste, the fish's delicate flesh flaking at the touch of his fork.
"This is incredible," you murmur, savouring each bite, your previous apprehensions about the evening melting away with the flavors on your tongue.
Sorrel smiles, watching you with a contented gaze that makes your heart flutter. "I'm glad you're enjoying it."
You smile, delving in, beginning to forget that this isn’t a real date. As you eat, the conversation meanders from the culinary arts to travel, to the hidden corners of the world each of you dreams of exploring. He’s a traveller, like you, although he’s visited places you could never dream of.
As the main course plates are cleared away, Sorrel suggests a dessert to share, a classic tiramisu that promises to be as light as air. When it arrives, you both lean in, the spoon Sorrel hands you brushing against his, sending a spark of electricity through you. You scoop a small portion, the dessert's creamy layers dissolving instantly on your tongue, and you can't help but close your eyes in appreciation.
"Good?" Sorrel asks, his voice low and tinged with amusement.
"More than," you reply, opening your eyes to find his gaze lingering on you with an intensity that quickens your pulse.
It's easy, in the soft lighting and over the shared sweetness of dessert, to forget the nature of how this evening came to be.
It's only when the waiter discreetly presents the bill that reality nudges you back into your role. Sorrel doesn't hesitate, reaching for his wallet with a grace that belies his size.
"How would you prefer the payment?" he asks, his tone casual but with a hint of something more, perhaps a reluctance for the evening to end in such a transactional manner.
The question jolts you back to the present, a reminder of the professional boundary that, for a fleeting moment, had seemed all but erased. "A bank transfer would be fine, thank you," you manage to say, your voice steady despite the way your stomach twists.
As you stand to leave, the warmth of the restaurant's ambiance contrasts sharply with the cool detachment now settling over you. Sorrel escorts you to the exit, his presence as reassuring as it is imposing.
At the doorway, you turn to him, the night air cool on your skin. "Thank you, Sorrel, for a truly wonderful evening," you say, sincerity lacing your words.
"Thank you," he replies, and something like regret flickers in his eyes.
On impulse, you rise on your toes and place a gentle kiss on his cheek. It's a small gesture, but it carries the weight of all the evening's revelations, his fur soft against your neck.
“Goodbye, Sorrel.”
“Goodbye. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
As you part ways, the night swallowing his towering figure, you're left with a warmth that no chill can dispel. The memory of the evening, of Sorrel, lingers like a sweet aftertaste, leaving you wondering just how you’re supposed to forget about him.
***
A week slips by, quieter than usual, leading you to pick up part-time shifts at a local hotel to fill the gaps. The monotony of the days contrasts sharply with the vivid memory of your evening with Sorrel, which lingers no matter how much you try to forget.
When a new request pops up on the escort site from Sorrel, your heart leaps. The anticipation, the unexpected thrill of seeing him again, infuses your routine with a newfound energy. Preparations for your meeting are made with a care and attention you hadn't realized you'd been missing.
The park chosen for your rendezvous is entirely different to the opulent restaurant of your first encounter. As the evening draws in, the tranquility of the park, with its towering trees and the soft murmur of the evening breeze, soothes your nerves.
You spot Sorrel at the agreed-upon spot, his imposing figure somehow at peace among the natural surroundings. Today, he’s wearing a more casual fitted black shirt that hugs his generous curves.
His face lights up as he sees you approach, a genuine smile spreading across his features.
"It's wonderful to see you again," he greets, his voice carrying a warmth that wraps around you like a comforting embrace.
"The feeling's mutual, Sorrel," you reply, your own smile reflecting your genuine happiness. "I wasn't sure if you'd... well, want to meet again."
"Why wouldn't I?" he asks, his tone laced with genuine confusion and a hint of amusement. "Our last evening together was more enjoyable than I've had in a long time. I've been looking forward to this all week."
Your heart flutters at his words. It’s your job, you know, to be liked - but hearing it from him sends a thrill through you.
"I'm glad,” you say. “I've thought a lot about our last, er, date."
Sorrel's gaze softens, the park's gentle evening light casting a serene glow over his features. "I've found myself doing the same. There's a simplicity in your company, a peace I've come to... crave."
The admission hangs between you. It's clear that the bond formed over that dinner has only deepened with time, but you have to wonder if this feels all a little too real.
"Would you like to take a walk?" Sorrel suggests, gesturing to the winding path that leads deeper into the park.
"I'd like that," you agree, and together, you begin to walk. You link an arm through his, enjoying how big and sturdy he is. It’s difficult to resist the urge to lean in close, soaking up the scent of his cologne.
The park around you is quiet, the occasional rustle of leaves and distant sounds of the city the only interruptions to the silence.
As you walk alongside Sorrel, the proximity and the gentle brush of his hand against yours send ripples of excitement through you. Each step seems to synchronize with the beating of your heart, a rhythm that echoes the growing closeness between you. The thrill of all surprises you, and you find yourself leaning deeper against his plush side.
The small talk that fills the air between you is comfortable, and you find yourself eagerly listening to Sorrel’s deep, rumbling voice. You chat about the park, and the mundane details of your respective weeks. Yet, beneath the surface, there's a tension, as if there’s something more floating beneath the surface.
It's Sorrel who breaks the veil of casual conversation, his voice taking on a more somber tone. "You know, I've always found myself caught between two worlds," he begins, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. "In the city, I'm too troll for most people to understand. Among my own kind, my views, my... aspirations make me an outsider. Too modern for my own kind, but too different for everybody else."
You listen, your heart aching at the vulnerability he's willing to share. The loneliness of his position between two worlds, becomes achingly clear.
"That's part of why I sought your company initially," he continues, his voice barely above a whisper. "I needed to feel understood, even if it was just for a moment, even if it had to be... bought."
The honesty of his admission strikes a chord within you, the professional facade crumbling further with each word.
"Now," Sorrel pauses, taking a deep breath, "my mother is ill. She's asked me to come home."
The weight of his words hangs in the air, heavy with the gravity of his decision. The silence that follows is filled with a thousand unasked questions, each one a reflection of the complexity of his situation and the depth of your concern for him.
"What will you do?" you find yourself asking, the question laden with more than professional curiosity. It's a question born of a connection that's deepened beyond expectation, a genuine concern for his well-being.
Sorrel stops walking, turning to face you. In the fading light, his expression is a mix of resolve and uncertainty, green eyes thoughtful.
"I don't know," he admits, and in that moment, the vulnerability he displays, the raw honesty of his predicament, draws you even closer.
You stay quiet, allowing him a moment to think.
Sorrel's gaze drifts away for a moment, lost in thought, as if he's trying to piece together the puzzle of his future right there in front of you. "I think I need to go back," he says finally, his voice steady but tinged with a hint of resignation. "I want to be there for her, help her heal. She's always been the anchor of our clan, and without her strength..."
He trails off, the weight of his responsibilities, of his love for his family, evident in the pause. "Once she's well, perhaps I'll return to the city. Or perhaps not. The truth is, I don't know where I truly belong."
The vulnerability in his admission, the open-ended nature of his future, pulls at something deep within you. You reach out, almost instinctively, your hand finding his. The touch is electric, and you let out a muffled sigh.
"It sounds like you've got a tough road ahead," you say, your voice soft but full of empathy. "Being there for your family, making sure your mother has everything she needs to recover... it's a beautiful thing to do, Sorrel. It speaks a lot about the kind of person you are."
He looks at you then, really looks at you, and in his eyes, you see a mixture of gratitude and something else, something deeper.
"Thank you," he whispers, and there's a warmth in his voice that wraps around you like a comforting embrace. "For understanding, for... for being here with me now."
The moment stretches between you. So does the quiet. The world around you fades into the background, leaving only the heavy thrum of your pulse in your ears.
"You should do what's best for you," you find yourself saying, your words laced with an unspoken sadness at the thought of his departure. "Your family needs you, and it's clear your heart is with them, too."
Sorrel squeezes your hand gently, a silent acknowledgment of the truth in your words. "I guess I always knew my path would lead me back home, eventually."
A twinge of disappointment tugs at your heart as the reality of Sorrel's impending departure settles in. Despite the professional boundaries you should adhere to, you can't deny the longing that has blossomed between you. Yet, beneath the layers of what-ifs, you find resignation setting in.
As you both resume walking, the conversation gently shifts, weaving through lighter topics. You admit, you’re grateful for the change of topic.
You share stories of your travels, the places Sorrel has been, places you’d love to go.
"I've always wanted to visit Thailand," you mention wistfully, the image of crystal-clear waters and verdant landscapes painting your words. "The culture, the food, the beaches... it seems like a world away from here."
Sorrel listens intently, his interest genuine. "Thailand is beautiful," he agrees, "you should go sometime."
The conversation takes an unexpected turn when Sorrel, with a look of determination, insists on paying you extra for your time. "Consider it a contribution towards your Thailand adventure," he says, his tone brooking no argument.
You hesitate, aghast at the number when you check your bank account. Three-thousand dollars. The offer touching yet tinged with the finality of a parting gift.
"Sorrel, that's too generous, I can't—"
"Please," he interrupts, his voice soft but firm. "Let this be my way of ensuring you get to experience the beauty of the world. You deserve it."
The sincerity in his eyes, coupled with the depth of gratitude you feel, crumbles your resistance. "Thank you," you say, the words barely a whisper, laden with a mix of emotions. "I'll never forget this."
You don’t know what else to say; but as it is, you don’t need to.
As you stand there, on the brink of farewell, Sorrel leans in. His kiss is unexpected but fervently returned as you stand on your toes, arms looping around his wide, plush waist. His lips are firm against yours, nipping at you with a passion that ignites a fire within you, the heat of his touch searing through the cool night air.
The kiss deepens, and for a moment, the world falls away, leaving only the two of you locked together, pulse racing.
As the kiss ends, a lingering warmth remains. You stand there, caught in the afterglow, the night air now charged with longing.
Sorrel's gaze holds yours, a myriad of unspoken words swirling in the depths of his eyes. "This... This was unexpected," he murmurs, the raw honesty in his voice mirroring the vulnerability in his gaze.
You nod, a gentle smile curving your lips despite the ache in your chest. "The best things usually are," you reply, your voice soft, laced with the bittersweet tang of parting.
There's a pause, a moment suspended in time, before you lean in for one final kiss. This one is softer,, a whisper of a goodbye in the brief touch of lips.
With a light-heartedness that feels forced, you step back and offer a playful smile. "Keep in touch, okay?" The words slip out, half in jest, half in hope, even as you understand the impossibility of the request.
Sorrel's smile is tinged with a gentle sadness, an acknowledgment of the unlikelihood of such a promise. "I'll remember this," he says, his voice a low rumble, rich with emotion. "I'll remember you."
You know, from the snippets of his life he's shared, that returning to his clan means stepping away from the world as you know it. The isolation of his people, their disconnection from the modern trappings of communication, almost brings tears to your eyes.
As you part ways, the echo of his final words lingers in your heart. The night wraps around you, and you shudder.
You hope to see him again someday. Somehow, you have the feeling that you will.
#exophilia fiction#exophilia#monster fucker#monster boyfriend#monster romance#monster x reader#tag: mxf#tag: male monster#tag: female reader#tag: sfw#tag: troll#tag: plus size#trying something new bc some people like present tense??#think i'll stick to past tense tbh
173 notes
·
View notes
Text
Was thinking of my post about dream teams and got really invested in whatever Unrequited Hate has going on
#trafficblr#life series#tangotek#smallishbeans#inthelittlewood#smajor1995#wild life smp#limited life smp#secret life smp#only tagging those three because they're the ones I referenced in particular while making this#see tango and joel started building a funny dynamic and then suddenly I'm super attached to a team that does not exist#tango has been the biggest annoyance to joel and joel (just like the rest of the server) WANTS HIM GONE.#scott and joel shouldn't have to be said there's someghjng so funny about joel praying in scott's downfall and then scott just dgaf#martyn and tango are silly cause tango is so distrusting if him and martyn fully embraces his untrustworthiness so it's like.#like a cat hissing at something that no one else finds suspicious#mean gills are...mean gills. they say they're divorced and all that but i don't buy it.#didn't know how to describe joel and martyn's dynamic other than that one line in limited life so i used those#and then tango and scott are silly cause they're so chill with each other. scott startles tango wuth his creeper disguise#and he just laughs and goes “you're the ultimate troll!” like! they are friends surely :)#oh and they're all shipped with jimmy solidarity too that is a thing#i love this non existent team dynamic sm they need ti be real please please PLEASEEEEEEEEE
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
rereading journal 3 and i had to visualize this or else i'll die
#fidds gets trolled#gravity falls#draws#edit: do not tag as billford slash serious. the guy isn't even drawn here
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
Genuinely, and I mean this kindly, but learning to recognize bait and not engaging with it will change your fandom experience.
#once you realize : oh theyre just trying to rile me up and i dont care to give them a response#everything is less stressful#i keep seeing the same arguments rehashed every six or so months#i know a lot of people are new and dont know but the trolls youre arguing with do#theyre trying to burn yall out and send you packing#also i do think there is something very funny about someone spending all that time color coding a bait post#and no one engages with it like wow you tried#i understand the passion people feel AND at some point you gotta let it go#anyway i do feel like the best way to sustain longevity is to just block the tags/people who enrage you
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
theyre bffs guys
#ty vivimeng for actor au#my art#art#digital art#fanart#ozzy stick to one fandom challenge (FAILED INSTANTLY)#alnst mizi#alnst#alien stage#alien stage fanart#okay guys tell me why it keeps suggesting trolls tags#I HAVENT POSTED TROLLS RELATED ANYTHING IN MONTHS LEAVE ME ALONE#also NO THIS ISNT SHIP ART BOOOOOOO#thats a lesbian and a gay man#alnst ivan
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
My favorite thing is how lowkey uncomfortable Branch's brothers look when they find out Branch highkey replaced them with a new band/found family after they left LOLOL
JD and Clay being quick to crack incredibly forced jokes to cover up the awkwardness of the situation ooo And you KNOW the Kismet trolls probably think so fucking lowly of all of them too if Branch confided in them over everything that happened throughout the years rrrrr I think the brothers would definitely take personal issue with particular members too uh ohh the girls are fightingg
and they know they have no right to be mad cause they are the ones who walked out and never came back but they're gonna be bitter anyway <333 i love troll drama
#i do be rambling about trolls#me when i turn a cheesy scene from a childrens movie into angst#tfw you are replaced by a younger cooler version of yourself#trolls#trolls band together#branch trolls#floyd trolls#john dory trolls#bruce trolls#clay trolls#brozone#ablaze trolls#hype trolls#boom trolls#trickee trolls#so many tags urgg#my art#kismet trolls#kismet
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
Brozone save me brozone
#trolls#trolls fanart#trolls band together#branch#clay#bruce#john dory#floyd#brozone#how do i tag this oooooooo#my art
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
did up an old idea
#my art#trolls band together#trolls#trolls floyd#trolls velvet#trolls veneer#trolls fanart#trolls dreamworks#trolls fandom#i love tagging
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
re : how each brother reacts learning that they can't go back
you'll have to pry the "all the Brozone Bros knew what happened at the tree" headcanon outta my cold, dead dead dead hands.
#sandflakedrew#trolls clay#trolls john dory#trolls floyd#trolls bruce#on today's docket : brozone angst#added in order of who i think found out first to last#listen#listen listen listen#they Knew!!!#JD for obvious reasons#Clay from Viva#Bruce isn't taken aback hearing Viva's story either. He's heard before#the combo of Floyd's 'never thought i'd see any of my brothers ever again' & 'is it really you?' hits a similar note for me#They! Knew!#clears throat. anyways#me to me : okay but wouldn't it be a little bit /more/ fucked up if JD didn't /let/ himself be fully gray? wouldn't that be worse?#the idea of someone forcefully sucking that shit back in?#terrible.#awful.#perfect for JD#perfect perfect perfect one might even say#same kinda deal with bruce.#what if you heard the news and felt compelled to try and live for more people than yourself. in order for your current peace to be fair#what then#i have more thoughts but this is enough tags as is#trolls
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
It's not NOT confirmed (?)
Bonus:
#trolls#trolls 3#trolls band together#dreamworks trolls#floyd trolls#floyd#trolls floyd#john dory#trolls john dory#brozone#before anyone says anything. we literally know bruce was hitting it raw JDFJJWKDKVNEJDKVJEJFJVJENE#i may delete that tag later#clay trolls#trolls clay#branch trolls#trolls branch#bruce trolls#trolls bruce#HE LOOKS SO WACK IN THAT DRAWING AUGH#well . whatever i drew it on the plane
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
with friends like you people, who needs enemies
#homestuck#alpha trolls#aranea serket#kankri vantas#meulin leijon#kurloz makara#cronus ampora#mituna captor#no motivation so shitty doodles it is#they truly are friends who spent WAYY too much time in close proximity and now theyd rather bash each others heads with hammers huh#tag it as ship and ill be inside your walls btw
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
look at these things
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
Been waiting to post these all at once LOL I love dressing up my favs like they are little dolls!!! (First one is forever my fav I think)
#rainyart#trolls#queen poppy#trolls fanart#dreamworks trolls#trolls band together#i will not yap in the tags today. ❤
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
His favorite book ( part 2 ) [ part 1 ]
using those baby brother powers for good
#shibi art#trolls#trolls band together#dreamworks trolls#trolls 3#trolls john dory#trolls burce#trolls spruce#trolls clay#trolls floyd#john dory#bruce#spruce#clay#floyd#so many tags#floyd saving the day!!!#ehehehhe
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
the very real frustration of your younger siblings being taller than you (source: I'm an older sibling)
(★my Ko-fi)
#my art#trolls band together#dreamworks trolls#trolls fanart#trolls brozone#trolls#i'm so happy the brozone tag exists so i don't have to tag everyone individually ♥️
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
troll who isnt allowed caffeine or she'll reenact the Hammy energy drink scene from over the hedge clay prefers tea anyway
#bruce is back home so hes not in the comic (i couldnt fit him in frame)#i stopped halfway through working on a different troll comic to make this troll comic this keeps happening#of the firm belief trolls have animalistic traits so they hashtag PLAY HARD#im talkin pouncin chasing biting etc etc#let my girls be rowdy at 8 in the morning (branch has babyproofed most of the bunker so they dont knock shit over when they run around)#trolls#trolls band together#clay trolls#john dory trolls#viva trolls#poppy trolls#branch trolls#brozone#im not tagging this as cliva cause imo they are found siblings fuck u but if u see them as lovers i support you barely#im kidding live your dream idc#my art#floyd trolls
5K notes
·
View notes