#the fate of the monster fucker

[rs-hawk]

First installment here

Your obsessive, arguably needy and clingy, client is an Orc named Eoforheard (he asks you to just call him Ever) who booked you out for six months. He said that if you needed any time off for events that maybe you forgot to put up on the app not to worry about it. No, he didn't want to cancel because what if someone else tried to book you? No, no, he would just keep track of the days and you could make it up to him.

He was tall, and a little bit older. You had never thought about how Orcs who had been warriors in their lives adjusted back to civilian life. For Ever, it was hard. He was lonely, and felt isolated, which is why he reached out to the Human Pet Service in the first place. He hadn't even touched you sexually on your first visit. He had you sit as he brushed your hair, bathed you, sang songs you didn't understand. He was just a lonely, slightly older man who wanted some company. You didn't mind. Sure, not getting railed every weekend was a bit of a bummer, but he had explained he really wanted to feel less alone, and you were perfect for that.

One weekend, he was laying down with you curled up on his chest. His tusks were polished and cleaned, the one that was broken halfway down had recently been filed down smoothly to place a platinum one over it. You were starting to doze off but his voice rumbled from underneath you.

"If I didn't treat you like a pup, what pet would you be for me?"

Tags: @blushycadaver

[deunmiu-dessie]

ⅹ▬ ⁽ 𝒹𝓇𝒶𝑔𝑜𝓃 ⁾ ¹

part two

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₁₀˖₆ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : slightly edited, talk of death, suicidal thoughts (??) ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა ʳᵃʷʳ ⁿᵒᵗᵉˢ : i had to split this into two parts since the entire one-shot might be at least 20k words long. there is no smut in this but in order to understand the second part i'll be writing, you'll need to read this! also, if you've read my demon one-shot, there's a little hint at these worlds colliding, let me know if you find where that is 😌

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎ : you, the princess of the jade empire, are on the run from your tyrannical uncle who is hell-bent on taking the throne for himself. following the death of your family members, you stand as the sole surviving royal descendant. as the unforgiving winter of the north looms closer and you find yourself without shelter, your desire for vengeance is set aside. stranded in a dark cavern, you struggle to stay alive and search for sustenance. but as you delve deeper into the cave, you unknowingly awaken a sinister creature lurking in the shadows, waiting to consume you whole.

꒰m!dragon ₊⊹ afab!reader꒱

“ℳ y lady, you must go now!”

    What had your world come to? And why now?

      You stand there, overwhelmed and devastated as Eunice, your personal maid, thrusts a satchel into your quivering, awaiting hands, her eyes of umber brown are widened and her lips quiver with dread— she was terrified, and rightfully so. She was soon to meet her end, and yet she was accepting it with ease, so much so that it made your heart thump painfully within your ribcage. 

    Eunice was an older woman with greying, thick brown hair that usually framed her heart-shaped face perfectly, but it was now strewn about aimlessly at the top of her head in the midst of utter chaos. Her eyes were the faultless color of brown which held just the tiniest specks of hazel. Within the depths of those chocolate pools, a previously unseen emotion emerges, leaving your hands sweaty and your face pale.

    You shake your head softly at her command, clutching her wrist within your clammy hands, pulling her along with you. "Come, come with me, Eunice, let us flee together!" you beg frantically, tears streaming down your face in heavy rivulets, your mind throbbing with an impending migraine. Your watery, scared eyes make Eunice’s stomach twist torturously— she who had taken care of you since you were a child, could only force a wobbly smile.  

  Eunice's heart trembles with fear at the thought of her death. The mere concept of dying was a chilling specter that haunted her every waking moment. No one willingly wished to die. However, when it came to you, the child she had considered her own? Eunice would willingly embrace death a thousand times over if she had to. 

  She couldn't bear to watch you die, not like this, especially when there was still a chance for you to live, to experience the pleasures of life, and perhaps even create a family of your own one day.

  With her resolve solidified, the woman firmly withdraws her arm from your grasp and gently pushes against your shoulders. “I cannot. I will stay, buy you time,” she whispers. The distant echoes of battle cries resonate in the distance, and Eunice swiftly guides you toward the concealed passage nestled within your chamber.

    "This path shall guide you to Thaos Village within three sunsets. It is my hometown, seek out Geoffrey Jill. Remember My Lady, be smart, be alert. Do not trust anyone, the Kingdom is your enemy.” Her voice trembles, yet even amidst this harrowing ordeal, she maintains her composure, selflessly offering herself as a sacrifice. 

  You’d always been a stubborn child, Eunice used to playfully say that you got it from your Father. He was a formidable figure, unwavering in his decisions, and she saw that same strength in you as a child.

    With glazed eyes, you looked on to Eunice with persistence. Your hands twitching at your sides to grasp at her frayed garments, wanting to tug on them with earnestness, a commemoration to the youth you once were. 

  However, she couldn't help but wonder if she had been too sharp with you during your moments of defiance. Perhaps if she had indulged your rebellious spirit, you would've dragged her along to escape rather than sit arguing with her about it. This notion evoked a sense of self-centeredness within Eunice, as she contemplated her yearning for survival. The longing for life above all else was an inherent trait in human beings after all.

   Her throat constricts as you swallow thickly, your head nodding with a heavy reluctance. Drawing Eunice closer, you envelop her in your arms, feeling the weight of her absence already settling in your chest. “I will miss you dearly,” you whisper, your heart skipping a beat before throbbing painfully against your breast. Her delicate arms wrap around your waist, her tear-stained face seeking solace in the curve of your neck; and her tears searing into your flesh, eternally marking you. "And I, my lady, shall forever carry your memory."

 With a heavy heart, she lets out a hiccuping sob, it’s heavy and distraught– painful. Before abruptly pushing you into the dark passage. With a haunting intensity, she leans against the door, sealing you in. "Now go, My Lady. We shall meet again." Eunice grins, it's etched with weathered smile lines and a small dimple that imprints on the bottom left corner of her mouth, and it's gut-wrenching to see it as her final farewell to you.

 The weighty door crashes closed, its resounding echo reverberating through the air causing you to crumple onto the stony floor, tears muddying your sight and sobs wracking your body. The satchel she has given you feels leaden in your grip, its contents unknown but undoubtedly important for your survival outside the unfamiliar palace wall.

 Before you can gather yourself from your hunched position, you startle at a dull sound of noise beyond the thick passage wall. While your lips tremble with trepidation, you gently lean your ear against the door, desperately yearning to catch even the faintest whisper. And there it is, piercing through the thick barrier of the passage door - the deep resonance of your Uncle's voice, reverberating in your mind like a haunting wail. 

  The tempest raging inside you teeters on the edge of an eruption, stoked by the ghostly memories of a man who once held a special place in your heart, a man you revered and faithfully trailed. But now, he’s the man who mercilessly slaughtered your entire family, driven by his insatiable thirst for power and a birthright that rightfully belonged to another. 

  However, his unappeasable greed eventually caused him to become careless, and amidst the bloodbath of your twentieth name-day, Eunice found an opportunity to aid in your escape. Yet, in just a few hours, your Uncle and his soldiers managed to infiltrate your section of the palace. Eunice, informed by the guards posted near your quarters, unveiled a hidden passage to you in a last-ditch effort. Your world had crumbled in a matter of moments.

“Do not feign ignorance in my presence, woman. My niece, where has she gone?”

    You find yourself drawn back into the moment, where Eunice's unwavering silence lingers in the air. A sense of unease mixed with anticipation twists in your stomach. In an instant, a sharp sound echoes through the room, accompanied by Eunice's anguished wail. Overwhelmed, you reflexively muffle your gasp with a quivering hand, hot tears streaming down your flushed cheeks. 

“I will ask you once more–” His words are abruptly halted and a hush descends upon the room as if time itself has frozen. In the stillness, the piercing sound of a blade being unsheathed pierces the air, followed by the steady voice of Eunice, filled with unwavering resolve. “Go to hell.” These are the last words that reach your ears before a sickening thud echoes— signifying her gruesome decapitation.

  The acrid bitterness of bile scorches your throat, causing your eyebrows to furrow as you suppress the urge to retch. Tears well up in your eyes, stinging like venomous drops. With a burdened soul, you inhale shallow breaths, feeling your heart pound relentlessly within your chest. Rising unsteadily, you clutch the satchel tightly to your breast, all while his voice booms out furiously, demanding, "Find her! Now!"

 Hobbling along the path, you descend into the darkness of the passage, your thoughts consumed by Eunice and the peril that awaited you beyond the safety of the palace walls. Outside the Palace, the Kingdom was a relatively foreign land to you; your parents had taken great pains to shelter you and your siblings from the outside world.

   As the eldest child, you had always harbored suspicions, for as the future ruler, it was your duty to be well-versed in the inner workings of the Jade Kingdom. But you dared not challenge their authority; after all, they were your parents. All they wanted to do was protect you. Right?

    But now, as you make your way through the dark and winding passage, you can't help but feel a sense of unease creeping over you. Eunice's cryptic message left you with more questions than answers, and you couldn't shake the feeling that something sinister was at play in the Kingdom. Your parent's secrets could now cost you your life, all because you didn't know what to expect from journeying outside.

   Shaking your head, you realize it was not the time to cast blame upon the dead; you needed to clear your mind and concentrate.

   The hidden passage leads you through a labyrinth of tunnels, its walls damp and cold. The atmosphere hung heavy with the pungent aroma of soil and mildew, suffocating your every breath. But you press on, driven by the urgency of the situation and the haunting image of Eunice's selfless act.

  As you meander through the never-ending hallway, time dissolves into obscurity, lost in the depths of darkness. But then, a delicate fragrance of flowers wafts through the air, piercing the stagnant atmosphere. The scent dances around you, a fleeting moment of clarity amidst the chaos. 

   In this desolate and forsaken corridor, it becomes your lifeline, a glimmer of hope in the face of despair. It whispers sweet promises of safety and freedom, offering a respite from the relentless onslaught of confusion and fear. With each breath, the aroma seeps into your very being, until finally, you stumble upon a door.

  Emerging from the underground maze, you find yourself in a desolate courtyard garden, surrounded by towering walls that seem to close in on you. The sounds of battle echo through the air, growing louder and more menacing with each passing moment. 

   The relentless ticking of time pushes you to move quickly, and with a sense of dread, you scuttle towards a weathered wooden door seamlessly melded into the formidable barrier, shrouding yourself beneath the protective embrace of your hood. 

   You steal a final look at your home, a shiver running down your spine as it’s consumed by flames. The echoes of joy and warmth that once filled the walls now fade into the crackling of fire and the scent of smoke. The devastation grips your heart, the realization sinking in that the haven you cherished is now a haunting relic of the past. The charred remains stand as a grim reminder of what once was, a place now lost to the merciless fire. A place that was no longer. 

  Time seems to slip through your fingers like sand as you wander along the road. Your footsteps have carried you through its endless expanse, and though it seems like an eternity since you’ve started, it might have merely been a few fleeting hours. You can still see the billowing smoke of your home lingering on the horizon, the ghostly remnants of your past life looming behind you, a chilling reminder of what once was and can never be again.

 The cold breeze nips at your fingertips and cheeks, attempting to penetrate the layers of your clothing and suffocate you in its icy embrace. With rapid, heated breaths, you valiantly defy its persistent advances, feeling your bones shiver beneath your flesh as you fight to retain warmth.

  As the sun starts its slow descent, your nerves start to unravel, the fleeting warmth it provides fading away within the hour. The thought of navigating these paths in the dark filled you with unease, unsure of what creatures may be hiding in the shadows of the woods.

The sun's radiant beams gradually retreat, stretching out elongated shadows over the terrain, and a feeling of unease starts to crawl up your spine. The once comforting warmth that the sun had bestowed upon you throughout the day now dissipates, leaving behind a chilling gust of northern winds. 

As the sky transforms into a canvas of dusky hues, the once vibrant landscape takes on an eerie stillness. The chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves are replaced by an unsettling silence, broken only by the distant hoot of an owl or the haunting howl of a lone wolf. The encroaching darkness seems to awaken fears that lay dormant within the depths of your mind.

  The road ahead appeared to stretch endlessly, its twists and turns becoming more disorienting with each passing moment. The gnarled branches of the trees reached out like skeletal fingers, casting eerie silhouettes against the sky. The once ‘familiar’ surroundings now come off as distorted and unfamiliar, as if the very essence of the oncoming night had transformed them into something otherworldly.

And though part of you wanted to keep moving, to get as far away as you could, this was not the time to be negligent and risk losing your way or, even worse, losing your life. Not when the fate of the Kingdom rested on your shoulders. Sighing shakily, you deviate off the trail and make your way into the woods, seeking refuge amidst a gathering of trees and vegetation.

The frigid ground greets you with a harsh embrace as you sit down, the cold seeping through your clothes and freezing your body further. Sorting through the hefty satchel, a rush of emotions overwhelms you when you uncover a soft wool covering, a beloved reminder of days when you were younger. As you unfurl the blanket, you lay down, finding yourself nestled on the forest ground, tucking the satchel beneath your head for a bit of comfort, and wrapping yourself up tightly to ward off the chill.

   The hushed rustling of foliage and the indelible chirping of crickets lull you into a state of eerie wakefulness. The fast-fading light seeps through the dense leaves above, casting an unnerving ray over the forest. The fragrance of pine and soil permeates your nose, pacifying your thoughts if only for a moment. 

    However, the life of the woodland is shattered by the haunting echo of horses in the distance, the flora and fauna within the forest coming to a bone-chilling standstill. Every breath you take feels like a desperate struggle, as if the air itself is suffocating you. The trees seem to whisper warnings to each other, their leaves rustling in fear for you. 

  You can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, a primal instinct urging you to flee from whatever unseen danger lurks in the darkness, but you’re rooted to the spot, unable to move as the ghostly hooves draw nearer. With a sense of anticipation, you sink further into the smothering embrace of the thick foliage, clutching your quivering legs tightly to your shivering body.

  “She couldn't have gotten far while on foot! Spread out and find her!” 

    Shivers skitter down your back, it was Dominic, your Uncle’s son. The echo of his once comforting voice sends tremors down your spine, a startling reminder of the past. Who could have imagined he would also be involved in the massacre of your family? The very cousin who playfully showed you how to handle a sword, how to scale trees, and capture frogs. The very cousin who had once held a special place in your heart, akin to that of a beloved brother.

  You couldn't help but wonder what had led him and his father down this path of destruction. What demons had possessed them to betray their own family, to turn against those who had loved and cared for them? The questions swirled in your mind, but the answers remained elusive.

   The thundering hooves fade into the night, causing you to release a trembling sigh, yet you freeze at the eerie sound of a horse's whinny. “I know you're there, cousin. Your tracks have betrayed you." You stay quiet, wondering if he is testing to see if you will flee, to confirm your presence. The echo of his words fills the night air with a chilling sense of pain, it's sorrowful, and desolate as he utters again.

   “Make sure that your tracks are well-hidden and keep off the main roads. It would be wise to depart the Kingdom immediately, go as far as you must, until nay even whispers of the King's death are uttered. My father, he will never stop, he will hunt you down relentlessly, until he claims your head, cousin."

    Tears well up in your eyes, causing a sharp sting as you blink them back, your stomach knotting with anxiety– perhaps he did know you were here. “Be smart, trust no one, for even the most innocent faces may hide ulterior motives. Stay one step ahead. You must survive if you want revenge for Unc— the King, Queen, and Royal Highnesses.” 

He falls into a chilling silence, and for a fleeting moment, you swear you hear a faint sniffle. "I never wished for any of this, trust me," he whispers. And then he’s galloping away, further and further until you hear him no more. As his presence dissipates, you finally let yourself weep with sobs that darken your vision, and tears that turn frigid upon meeting your cheeks.

The weight of his words lingers in the air, haunting you as you lay alone in the darkness. The truth of his revelation slices through you, sharp as a blade, leaving you adrift and lost. You try to make sense of it all, but the pieces of the puzzle refuse to fit together. 

   You try to shake off the feeling of despair that threatens to consume you, but it clings to you like a shadow. 

    Reflecting on the events that led you to this wretched state, a myriad of questions plague your mind. How did the path you once tread, filled with hope and promise, veer so drastically off course? What unseen forces conspired to orchestrate this cruel twist of fate, leaving you stranded in a world of darkness and unfamiliarity? You wonder how such a sinister fate befell you. Your mind whirls in a frenzy, grappling with these haunting questions until exhaustion finally claims you, dragging you into a restless slumber tormented by blood-curdling visions.

  As the night drags on, sleep remains elusive, antagonizing you with its restless grip. It's not until the first light of dawn filters through the twisted branches above that your mind finally succumbs to sleep, allowing you a fleeting moment of respite.

As you embrace the peaceful caress of sleep, a faint sense of consciousness lingers. The real world has its challenges and griefs, however,  they seem almost insignificant when compared to the terrors that haunt your dreams. 

  If asked to choose between facing the bitterness of reality or the torment of your nightmares; you'd rather brave the acrimony of the real world over the haunting dreams of days long gone.

   It’s when the sun reaches high in the sky that you rouse from your unfulfilling nap. But as you pry your eyes open, which are almost sealed by the bone-chilling cold of the North, you are welcomed not by the sight of frost-laden greenery or the towering yellow Cyprus tree that stood tall yesterday.

  Instead, a face is peering down at you. A countenance that has only existed within the pages of books and tales of caution. 

 It’s a Romog, a magical beast similar to dogs yet towering in size like battle wolves. From what you've read, Romog's are renowned for their savagery, and their prowess in combat. Their hide and sinew possess an almost outlandish thickness and strength, rendering them almost impossible to kill. Even the most seasoned of knights have stumbled in their endeavors to hunt these formidable creatures.

   And since Romog's are known for their exceptional tracking abilities, enforce wizards often form magical pacts with them to harness their talent. Their keen sense of smell and knack for locating elusive targets made them indispensable companions in the realm of magic. However, as it perched on your legs, its tongue lolling and panting deeply, you couldn't help but ponder why it had not yet chosen to devour you. ( You also guessed that your lack of chill throughout the early morning was thanks to the mutt. )

   Why was it here? 

   Your breath hitches in your throat and you swallow thickly, a tremor dancing down your backbone. The Romog's cranium tilts to one side, its gaze overflowing with unsettling fascination before it inclines closer, its sleek tongue sinuously gliding forth to caress your cheek, the coarse texture catching at your skin. 

  “Ugh! Disgusting!” 

  You swiftly wipe away the wet warmth from your cheek, your upper lip curling with revulsion. The Romog, looking innocent, emits a low growl before clambering off of you, its tail wagging frantically. You observe its every movement cautiously, yet you find a morsel of comfort as it nudges you with its massive snout, darting away to perform a playful bow before dashing toward you for another gentle nudge.

   Fear dissipates in an instant, causing you to release a soft chuckle. It's evident that this Romog hadn't yet reached adulthood. Rising to your feet, you retrieve your blanket, which now feels like a thick slab of ice, and proceed to fold it as neatly as possible before tucking it away in your satchel. Throughout this process, the Romog playfully nudges your back, emitting playful yips to further lighten the atmosphere.

  Hefting the bag over your shoulder, your gaze falls to the Romog beside you. Its eyes are wide and almost pleading, and suddenly, a soft gurgle fills the air. It must be hungry – you couldn't remember if Eunice had packed you any food, but it wouldn't hurt to take a look.

  Nonchalantly discarding the satchel, you allow it to descend with a weighty thump upon the earth. You gracefully lower yourself onto one knee, slowly loosening the drawstrings. The Romog creeps nearer, its snout descending to delve into the contents of your exposed bag. With lips slightly pursed, you delicately nudge it aside, engaging in a steadfast gaze with the creature. “You must wait, I'm trying to find you something.” 

  The creature emits a soft chuff. With an air of nonchalance, it raises a front leg and stretches its neck to noisily lick at its paw. You can't help but roll your eyes at the creature's audacious demeanor. Determined to find something worthwhile, you plunge your hand into the bag, rummaging aimlessly and extracting various objects, only to discard them back into the satchel as you realize their inedibility.

  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, you find yourself in possession of a sizable portion of compacted ivory bread, its texture cold and unyielding, as if it had been shaped by the frigid gusts of the northern winds. The Romog stirs with interest at the scent of the doughy morsel, edging nearer until it is practically nestled in your lap. Its gaze meets yours, a silent exchange passing between you, without hesitation, you rend the loaf apart and fling it away into the forest.

  The beast swiftly gives chase, its insatiable appetite driving it forward. Its viscous drool, warm and thick, tenderizes the bread, rendering it more palatable. With a gentle smile, you deftly rearrange the items within your bag, securing them in their rightful places before sealing it shut. Rising to your feet, you hoist the satchel onto your shoulder once again, ready to continue your journey.

 The time of day still lingered in the early hours, urging you to press forward and cover as much ground as possible. If Eunice's information proved accurate, you would reach Thaos Village within at least three days' time. Thaos Village, as the tales tell, revered the water Goddess Euna, it was a relatively peaceful place where mages often resided before embarking on their journeys or seeking wisdom at the renowned arcane institution. It was also the birthplace of Eunice and the man you’d be meeting in only a short while.

As you gaze upon the Romog, its sharp teeth tearing into the meager offering of bread, a shiver runs down your spine, that could've been you under different circumstances. With a forced smile, you hasten your steps out of the eerie forest, eager to escape the looming darkness that surrounded you even in the morning light. Making your way back onto the trail to continue your journey to what you were hoping was safety.  

  The frigid morning breeze froze your face, your nostrils growing numb and your mouth parched from the icy assault. Merely moments into your stroll, your ears seemed on the verge of detachment. To safeguard the remnants of your inner heat, you raise your hood and plunge your hands into the recesses of your cloak, huddling your form in an attempt to repel the gusts of the wind. The fabric provided a small barrier against the frigid wind, but it was not enough to fully protect you.

The frosty air clung to your skin, leaving a tingling sensation that bordered on pain. Each breath you took felt like shards of ice piercing your lungs, causing you to exhale in short, shallow bursts. The trees stood tall and bare, their branches coated in a layer of frost that glistened in the weak morning light. 

   With each step, you could feel the chill seeping deeper into your bones. Your muscles tensed, your movements becoming slower and more deliberate. The cold seemed to sap your energy, leaving you feeling sluggish and drained.

  The sun's feeble attempt to break through the thick layer of clouds was met with resistance, as if the heavens themselves were conspiring to keep the landscape below in a perpetual state of desolation. Its golden beams, though they managed to pierce through the gloom, seemed almost mocking in their presence. They danced upon the barren earth, casting long, eerie shadows that stretched across the desolate terrain, and illuminated the cracked and parched ground.

   As if the sun's futile efforts were not enough, a biting wind swept through the air once more. It howled through the skeletal remains of trees, their branches stripped of leaves and their insides hollowed out.

  ‘snap’ 

 Your heart nearly leaps out of your throat when you jump, swiftly turning to locate the source of the noise. It was only the Romog from earlier, its mouth still coated in breadcrumbs. You purse your lips, fully turning to confront it, cocking your hip to the side, and crossing your arms over your chest.

  “I cannot give you anything more. I also need to eat, beast.”  

   At your acknowledgment, the creature hastens forth to halt before you, perhaps taking your response as a cue to accompany you. Its frigid, damp snout presses against your abdomen, urging you onward to proceed. You delicately push it aside, your hands now finding solace upon your hips. “You mustn't follow me. Now go, I can do nothing more for you.”  

  This time it hearkens, descending into a seated posture and whimpering, its grand cranium inclining to the side. You affirm, content with your actions. "Well done, farewell beast.” 

   Twisting on your heels, you press forward along the trail, tucking your hands into your pockets once again to restore warmth. As you journey for a few more moments, the Romog's heavy, wheezing breaths fade away, which are loud even amidst the piercing gusts of wind.

   You were alone now, it was something you would have to get used to. 

  Moreover, if what you read was true, untamed Romog's were labeled as ‘kill on sight’ in numerous regions. The creature would draw too much attention to you, and you couldn't bear to see it die.

  You've witnessed an excess of death in a brief span and the thought of being responsible for yet another one weighed heavily on your conscience. You knew that if you were to survive in this harsh and unforgiving world, you would need to adapt quickly and make tough decisions.

  You would brave this journey on your own. 

   Or so you thought. The Romog continued to follow you.

   Concealing itself amidst the foliage each time you glanced over your shoulder, its mighty tail protruding from a tree and rhythmically thudding, inadvertently revealing its presence. Hiding itself within shrubs, but its snout, long and thick, would stick out, giving it away. Vanishing into the encompassing woodland, yet its profound, labored breaths would once more, accidentally expose its existence.

   What did it want? 

  Halting abruptly, you inhale deeply, the frigid air chilling your lungs as you pivot swiftly, the Romog attempting to scuttle into the forest to evade your scrutiny. "Come out!" A brief silence ensues, save for the monotonous symphony of howling winds and rustling foliage atop the towering trees. The Romog emerges from its hiding spot, albeit reluctantly. Its head hangs low, ears plastered against its skull, and tail firmly ensconced between its hind legs.

   Its eyes, once filled with mischief and childish curiosity, now reflect an uncertainty. You take a press forward, your presence commanding and unwavering. The Romog takes a hesitant step back, its paws sinking into the soft forest floor.

"I will tell you once more. You mustn't follow me! ‘Tis dangerous, for me and for you. Do you understand?"  For a moment, you forget that you're talking to a beast and not a human, it probably didn't understand a word that you were saying. This realization causes a frown to crease your lips, your eyebrows knitting together sharply.

   As you once more assert your desire for the creature to leave, it cowers slightly, its large, sorrowful eyes gazing up at you with confusion and longing. Its body, covered in sleek, dark fur, bristles in response to your rejection. Yet, despite your firm words, it remains steadfast. 

   With a heavy sigh, you realize that the creature has attached itself to you for reasons beyond your comprehension. Its unwavering resolution tugs at your heartstrings, even as you try to distance yourself from it. Perhaps it senses something in you, a connection that you are yet to understand. Is what you try to convince yourself, to somehow make this situation feel right.

 As you contemplate your next move, the creature finds time to sneak towards you, nudging your leg gently, its touch both cold and comforting. It emits a low, woeful sound as if pleading for you. And despite it, you find yourself softening, your resolve weakening as you look into its eyes, they're filled with such a deep despondency that it almost seems as if you were gazing into a mirror.

  Relenting with a soft huff, you crouch down to meet the creature at eye level. Its snout, still damp and frigid, brushes against your cheek, leaving a trail of icy moisture. You feel a surge of empathy, a sudden realization that this creature searches for companionship and purpose, just as you do. ( though you deny it. )

"I cannot promise you anything," you whisper. Your voice, scratchy from the icy breath of the northern frost, resonates with a delicate blend of tenderness and hesitation, because within you lies the awareness that this was a foolish idea. "If you so choose to accompany me, know that the path ahead is treacherous and filled with uncertainty. I cannot guarantee your safety nor mine."

   The creature's eyes glinted with a newfound emotion, as if understanding you and the risks involved with being your travel companion, but that was just wishful thinking on your end. It emits a soft, almost grateful sound at your words. With a gentle touch, you stroke its furry head, rising to your feet. 

 "Then, let's keep moving."

  “Perhaps I should give you a name. It would be improper to refer to you as ‘beast’ the entire time.” you state, your teeth clashing together in a frenzy. The creature walks alongside you faithfully, its massive form exuding warmth like a furnace, impervious to the icy chill of the north, a fact that you couldn't help but envy, even if just a tad. Your cloak had been breached long ago by the freezing air, and it genuinely felt as though you were treading on pins and needles, your body wracking with tremors from the cold.  

  As the two of you trudge the frost-covered road, you rack your brain for a suitable name for the animal. Alas, you're not particularly skilled in this endeavor, and it appears that the beast is aware of this as well. "What of Charles?" You propose, the words slipping hesitantly from your lips. The being reacts unfavorably to the name, meeting your gaze and snorting in response.

   Your mouth gapes and you narrow your eyes. "Very well, perhaps I shall persist in calling you a beast! Now's not the time to be picky." The creature lets out a low rumble, its eyes narrowing in what seems to be yielding delight. It seems to understand the concept of a name, but is not easily swayed by your meager attempts at bestowing one upon it. Especially that of Charles.

   “Fine, I’ll think of a better one later,” Your gaze shifts towards the sun as it begins its gradual descent, the darkness of night beginning to envelop the sky in its velvety cloak. The frigid air, already piercing, seemed to intensify, as if embracing an even colder essence. 

 Despite this, the two of you had made remarkable progress throughout the day, and it instilled confidence in you that the village would be within reach before nightfall the next day.  Although the tracks upon the nearly frozen ground had begun to fade, you had found them nonetheless, a mosaic of footprints and wagon imprints. A sign of life.

  “Let us stop for today, we mustn’t be out on the road during nightfall.” The latter part of your statement is uttered softly, a reminder to yourself, and the creature joins you as you stealthily veer away from the path and venture into the encroaching shadows of the woods, its tail wagging in delight. You continue walking for a brief period until you once again find yourself amidst a gathering of trees and shrubs, placing your bag on the ground before settling down beside it. You feel almost numb, as though your body has been submerged in icy waters.

The creature settles down beside you, its warm body, thick with fur, brushing against your side, providing a sense of ease in the eerie stillness of the forest. The darkness seems to press in around you, the only sound being the rustling of leaves and the occasional hoot of an owl in the distance. You take a deep breath, trying to shake off the chill that has settled in your bones, digging into your satchel to pull out your wool blanket.

  You purse your lips and run your hand along its back, patting softly. “Lucky mutt.” With slow, creaky motions you envelop the blanket around your form and awkwardly collapse, distancing yourself from the creature, head landing harshly on your bag, yet you pay no mind, you were too cold to care. 

   The Romog stands abruptly and moves closer to follow down after you, massive frame wrapping around you. It smells of damp soil and dog and you scrunch your nose. “By the Gods, you need a bath.” you utter, burying your face within the comfort of your blanket to escape the scent. 

   The animal grunts, unamused at your insult, shifting away from you; and in an instant the cold envelops you, freezing the entirety of your body. Your teeth begin to chatter rhythmically, and you instinctively seek warmth by burrowing into the creature's body, no longer bothered by its scent. “P-perhaps just for tonight, yes?” 

  The beast snorts again and affectionately rests its large head on top of yours, tail curling around your body. You smile to yourself as the Romog nuzzles closer, its warm fur providing much-needed comfort in the chilly night. Despite the less-than-pleasant smell, you can't help but feel thankful to the creature for its unexpected aid. 

“What about George?”

The gates of the Village loomed ahead, towering and sturdy, constructed from the timber of a Viloz tree. Though guards stood watch at the entrance, it appeared they paid no heed to verifying identities or trade permits. In most bustling regions, such protocols were customary to gain access within their walls. 

   Considering your Uncle's relentless pursuit, one would expect wanted posters or even a bounty on your head. Yet, the lax security raised suspicions— could it be a ruse, an artifice to entice you into the open?

   You duck behind the bushes once more and look toward your companion. “Alright, Aslan—,”  the Romog grumbles at the name, and you sigh, rummaging through your bag to retrieve the final piece of bread. The name was still a matter of debate, as it seemed that no matter what name you chose, the Romog disapproved. 

 For now, it was best to refer to it as 'beast'. You take out the stale bread and struggle to tear it in half. Placing one portion at the creature's feet, you reluctantly return the other half to your bag. "Remain here, you cannot enter the village. I will come for you later tonight if everything goes according to plan."

The Romog sniffs at the bread before tentatively taking a bite, its sharp teeth tearing into the tough crust. You watch as it devours the meager meal, its eyes never leaving you. The two of you had made good timing today and thankfully made it to the village before nightfall. 

   The sun was drifting lower as the minutes passed but you weren't too worried about it, not when safety was within reach. Gone were the worries and anxieties that had plagued your mind just a few short days ago. The weight of the world seemed to lift, replaced by a newfound sense of security. Safety, once elusive and distant, now stood within reach, beckoning you to embrace its solace.

   Although the Romog remained oblivious to the intricate nuances of the Lomaliue language, there were instances when an inexplicable connection seemed to materialize. It was as if the creature possessed an innate comprehension of your commands and the very essence of your words. It was almost comforting in a way, akin to engaging in a heartfelt conversation with a fellow human being, albeit one who chose not to respond.

 “Alright?” 

   The Romog emitted another discontented growl, causing a faint smile to grace your lips. With gentle strokes, you caressed its velvety fur, which bore traces of frost from the relentless northern gusts. Although the biting chill persisted, your body had grown accustomed to its icy touch, rendering you impervious to its sting. 

  At most, you suffered from a mild case of frostnip, far from the severe frostbite that could afflict you if you prolonged your stay in this frigid wilderness for a few more days, a constant reminder of the dangers that awaited those who dared to defy Mother Nature's limits. 

The Romog, sensing your restlessness, nudged you gently with its snout, as if urging you to move on. With a heavy sigh, you reluctantly withdrew your hand from the beast’s fur, feeling a pang of sadness at the loss of its comforting presence. 

   You knew that you had to continue your journey into the Village to seek shelter and warmth before the unforgiving cold took its toll on you. You needed to find Geoffrey Jill.

  Flicking your hood over your head, you venture farther from the village to a side road, so you don't look suspicious walking to the Village from the tree line. As you approached the gate, a sense of unease settles in the pit of your stomach.

  The towering entrance, constructed from the timber of a Viloz tree, its bark known to be as sharp as a blade, was a formidable barrier, separating the outside world from the safety and sanctuary within.

   Despite the imposing presence of the gates, the guards stationed at the entrance appeared strangely indifferent to their duties. They stood there, their eyes glazed over, seemingly oblivious to the comings and goings of the villagers and outsiders alike. It was as if they were mere statues, frozen in time, rather than vigilant sentinels protecting the Village.

  If what your teacher taught you about the Kingdom was right, then in most bustling regions, gaining access to a village of such importance would require strict adherence to protocols. Identification checks, trade permits, and thorough questioning were customary measures to ensure the safety and security of the inhabitants. Yet, here, it seemed that such precautions were nonexistent. Which was odd. 

This lax security raised a myriad of suspicions in your mind. Was it possible that this was all an elaborate ruse, a carefully crafted plan to lure you into the open? After all, your Uncle had been relentlessly pursuing you, his desire to capture and kill you evident in the wanted posters that seemed to adorn every tree you and the beast had passed. 

But for now, this seemed to be your sole option at the moment. Where else could you possibly seek refuge? Escaping the bitter cold and finding this mystery man is your top priority. The urgency of the situation left no room for hesitation or contemplation; your next move would have to wait until later.

Every step felt heavier than the last, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on your weary shoulders. The biting wind whipped against your face, numbing your senses. With a gulp, you cautiously approached the two guards, trying your best to appear nonchalant. 

Your trembling added to the act, making it seem like you were simply a weary traveler seeking refuge from the impending winter storm that loomed ever closer. The first stick of snow to the ground usually meant a winter blizzard would follow. 

 Your heart thudded rapidly in your chest, almost to the point of pain, as you breezed past the guards who seemed more interested in chatting with each other than actually checking credentials. And just like that, you found yourself standing within the walls of Thaos Village, your pulse still racing with the fear of your successful infiltration.

 ‘Mother, Father— I made it.’ 

  It was only when the moon rose high in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the village, that you had finally stumbled upon Geoffrey Jill. 

     When you wandered through the village, you were initially lost in admiration of its liveliness despite the cold weather and impending blizzard. The streets were bustling with people, their laughter and chatter filling the air, while the cozy glow of warm lights spilled out from the windows of quaint cottages. The villagers seemed undeterred by the freezing temperatures, going about their daily routines.

  The aroma of freshly baked bread and sizzling meats wafted through the air, tempting your taste buds and igniting a hunger that had long been suppressed. The colorful array of fruits and vegetables displayed in the market stalls beckoned to you, their vibrant hues a stark contrast to the dullness of your daily routine. 

   As you meandered through the throngs of people, their laughter and chatter creating a symphony of life around you, you couldn't help but feel a sense of longing for the simple joys that seemed so out of reach.

It resembled a passage extracted from the cherished storybooks of your childhood, it was enchanting in a way. especially for you who had rarely stepped foot out of the castle. Commoner life seemed almost… peaceful in a way. You were fine with just walking the streets, dodging running children, and gazing longingly at the food stalls— it had been forever since you had eaten an actual meal. 

   "Would you care for one?"

As you snap out of your reverie, the world around you slowly comes back into focus. Your eyes meet with those of a woman in her middle age, and you are immediately struck by her captivating appearance. She possesses a round figure, exuding an air of warmth and comfort. Her delightful rosy cheeks add a touch of vibrancy to her overall countenance, giving her a youthful glow.

Her features are refined and elegant. A flat nose sits perfectly in the center of her face, adding a sense of symmetry and grace. Her full lips, slightly curved upwards, seem to hold a perpetual smile, inviting and comforting to all who encounter her. They speak of kindness and understanding, ready to offer solace or share a laugh. Her skin boasts a rich, deep umber brown, like the earth itself.

Yet, it is her eyes that truly captivate you. They are the windows to her soul, and they hold a depth that is both mesmerizing and intimidating. A flawless, all-knowing amber hue fills her irises, shimmering with a wisdom that seems to transcend time. 

When her gaze meets yours, it feels as if she can see into the very depths of you, peering into your thoughts and emotions. There is an intensity to her eyes, an unwavering focus that demands your attention.

   You smile beneath your hood, you doubt she could see it but do so nonetheless. “Oh, that's alright; I have no money at the moment,” you utter, your voice hoarse from the winter chill, and your throat parched from the absence of water and the biting cold.

    The woman grins, it's beautiful and motherly and it warms your belly better than any beverage ever could, it makes you miss your own mother a bit more; if even possible. She grabs one of the skewers and holds it out to you. “My treat, child. Now run along and get home, the winter blizzard is coming.” 

     Initially hesitant, you tentatively extend your hand towards the bottom of the skewer, feeling the cold seep through your frost-nipped fingers as they slip out from under the protection of your cloak. Though she doesn't acknowledge it, the sad smile that encases her full lips tells you that she's noticed. “Thank you, I’ll pay you back, swear it,”  you assure her earnestly.

   She lets out a gentle laugh and gestures for you to leave, “Alright, alright, head on home.” 

   With a now full belly, warmed from the delicious blend of salty meat and spicy vegetables, you now search for Geoffrey Jill with a new intensity. Despite the freezing temperatures of the northern region, which seem to penetrate your very bones, you navigate through narrow alleyways and bustling food stalls without giving the cold a second thought.

    However, as night fell and the temperatures plummeted even further, your energy waned and your awe from earlier, quickly transformed into bewilderment. The once vibrant village now appeared eerie and desolate under the pale moonlight. The laughter and chatter had faded, replaced by an unsettling silence broken only by the howling wind. The cozy glow of lights had dimmed, leaving the streets shrouded in darkness.

   Despite being disoriented and having already been turned around twice, you struggled to find someone who could point you in the right direction to locate Geoffrey Jill. The few villagers you encountered were bundled up in heavy outside blankets, their faces hidden beneath scarves and hats, making it difficult to discern their features.

 Their hurried footsteps echoed through the empty streets as they scampered home, seeking refuge from the biting cold.

   You felt helpless, standing in the middle of the street.

    However, it appeared that the sight of you struggling to find your way through the village, weighed heavily on the shoulders of a man named Tomás Duall. He was an elderly figure, who was reliant on a cane for support, possessed a slight hunch, and a crown of wispy white hair– and he had offered to take you to Geoffrey. 

  His eyes held a deep sadness, as if burdened by the weight of his past. A peculiar scent lingered around him, a mixture of smoke and a hint of sweetness, reminiscent of candy. Tomás had led you to Geoffrey, and while doing so, spoke softly of his lost love and the children he never had, his words tinged with a sense of longing and regret.

   “Child, don't follow my example. Pursue the one you desire.”

  He left you with those words as he bid you farewell at the entrance of Geoffrey’s house. Unexpectedly, you discovered a fondness for this elderly man. Despite his cheeky demeanor and tendency to give hearty pats on the back while sharing a funny story, you found him rather endearing.

 As you brought your attention back to the present, you extended your hand from beneath your cloak and rapped on the door. It's silent, causing a brief moment of panic as your heart tightens in your chest. Could it be possible that he wasn't home? Had the elderly man led you to the wrong house?

You stood there, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on you as you waited for a response. The seconds stretched into minutes, each one feeling like an eternity as you listened for any sign of life inside the house. The wind whispered through the trees, the only sound breaking the eerie silence that surrounded you.

  Swallowing thickly you knock once more. “Is there a Geoffrey Jill that lives in this home? Eunice has sent me here.” A moment of tense silence follows, the air thick with anticipation. Suddenly, the door swings wide open, revealing a large, intimidating man filling the doorway. His towering presence sends a shiver down your spine, and you instinctively take a step back, feeling small and vulnerable in his presence.

But as the door opens wider, a surprising shift in the atmosphere occurs. The sound of children's laughter fills the air, accompanied by a woman's voice, likely his wife, softly joining in the joyous chorus. The contrast between the imposing figure before you and the sounds of happiness emanating from within the house is jarring, creating a paradoxical blend of intimidation and warmth.

  “How do you know of that name, girl?” 

   You startle at the sound of his deep voice, it's thunderous even over the sound of howling wind. You gaze up and then further to lock eyes with him. “She was my nanny– she sent me here to look for you, my Unc–” 

   “I cannot help you, go on your way.” 

   Your mouth drops open in disbelief and you cautiously tug off your hood, showing him your face. “Do you know who I am? “ You watch as the blood drains from it, watch as his jaw clenches and his eyes flutter shut. He glances behind him before stepping outside to confront you, shutting the door behind him. “Why has she sent you here, where is she?” 

Despite your best efforts, tears begin to fill your eyes. “She...she is gone,”  you murmur gently, and briefly you fear he has not caught your words amidst the roaring wind due to his profound silence. Yet, as you meet his gaze, you involuntarily recoil at his steely stare and tightly clenched jaw. "She was a foolish woman..."

   You cannot bear to hear him speak ill of her, not when she was your dearest friend, your confidante, your mother in all but blood. You feel a surge of anger rise within you, but you swallow it down, knowing that now is not the time for confrontation. As the wind howls around you, you stand together in silence, each lost in your own thoughts and memories of the woman who brought you together, even in death.

Nevertheless, he eventually breaks the silence.

"Forget whatever she may have told you. I cannot help you, you must leave," he declares harshly, turning his back on you. Your breath catches in your throat, and panic threatens to overwhelm you entirely. This couldn't be real. 

You reach out to him quickly, your hand grasping his meaty wrist,  but you recoil when he flings your hand away, glaring. "P-please, I have nowhere else to go. My Uncle will find me, I cannot die like this-- not when I've done nothing to avenge my Family!"

He scoffs at your words, his eyes cold and unyielding. "Your fate is not my concern. You made your choices, now you must face the consequences," he replies, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. You feel a surge of desperation rising within you, knowing that without his help, you are truly alone in this world. Choices? What choices? You had none. “I have a family now, and I cannot risk their lives to hide a fallen Royal.”

 What has your world come to? And why now? Why was this happening to you?

 Geoffrey goes to retreat once more and you whimper in the back of your throat, restlessly fidgeting on your feet. "Only for the night, to escape the cold," he explains, his gaze meeting yours, revealing a slight softening in his expression. At that moment, he recognizes you as just a child. With a gruff grunt, he gestures towards the side of the house. “There is a shed, stay there. I want you gone as soon as the sun rises.”

  “Yes. Thank you.” 

        The resounding echo of a door's closure is the only response you receive. With a heavy gulp, you suppress the tears that threaten to cascade down your face. What were you to do now? You had no place to go, there was a bounty on your head and winter was coming—  you would surely succumb to the icy grip of death before avenging your family.

   Quivering beneath your cloak, you navigate around the corner of the dwelling and chance upon the shed that Geoffrey had mentioned. Though modest in size and riddled with gaps in its wooden structure, it was better than nothing. 

Pushing open the door, which emitted a mournful creak, you slip inside and collapse onto the floor covered in fragrant hay. As your body temperature gradually rises, shielded from the frigid northern winds, a torrent of tears breaks free, streaming down your frozen cheeks. Why you? 

   Before the sun rose that morning, you were gone, you had slipped away unnoticed, escaping through the gates where the soldiers stood watch as stoic as ever. The bustling of the villagers as they started their day only served to highlight the emptiness in your own life. With no direction and no sense of belonging, the weight of displacement settled heavily on your shoulders.

 The icy touch of the northern winds no longer fazes you, your eyes dry and unyielding to tears, and the sensation in your feet has long faded away. You wander without purpose beside the road, your hood tattered from snagging on skeletal branches. Your mind is a foggy haze, memories slipping through your fingers like grains of sand.

   You trudge forward, your footsteps echoing in the silence of the winter wilderness. The road stretches out before you, endless and unforgiving, leading you further into the heart of the icy wasteland. But still, you press on, driven by a force you cannot name. 

  Perhaps it is a glimmer of hope, a flicker of light in the darkness that propels you forward. Or maybe it is simply the instinct to survive, to keep moving despite the odds stacked against you.

The 'beast' had vanished from the very spot where you had last seen it. Maybe it had decided to leave, and you couldn't fault it for that. In fact, if given the chance, you would have done the same thing in a heartbeat. 

   And although you had initially chased the creature away when your paths crossed, now you couldn't help but acknowledge the profound sense of solitude that engulfed you in its absence. It was astonishing how deeply you had connected with it, even in the mere span of two days.

   Banishing those intrusive thoughts, you shift your attention to the world around you. After trekking for what seemed like an eternity, the snow crept up to your ankles, and you were hardly able to see in front of you. The frigid air enveloped you like a thick blanket, making each step feel like wading through a sea of molasses.

   You could feel the weight of the snow pressing against your boots, making each movement a struggle. The once familiar path had become a treacherous maze, with the snow-covered trees and bushes blending in a monochromatic blur. The silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of your labored breaths and the occasional creaking of branches under the weight of the snow.

  The bitter cold gnawed at your bones, seeping through every layer of clothing. Your fingers and toes were numb, and you could feel the sting of frostbite threatening to take hold. The frigid air seemed to penetrate every pore, leaving you shivering uncontrollably.

    As the blizzard began to manifest its icy wrath, the wind surged with newfound vigor, and the temperature plummeted to depths unfamiliar to your senses. In this desolate road, the realization of your death gripped your heart, an undeniable truth that whispered through the frigid air. You were going to die.

 You slowed to a stop, and your limbs, once enfolded tenderly around your midsection, descended languidly to your sides, resembling a lifeless puppet. You were going to die. The icy grip of death or the cruel clutches of starvation awaited you. You had no place to go. The dreams of revenge that once fueled your every action now seemed distant and unattainable.

     Perhaps it was time to consider a different path, one of acceptance and surrender. Why not just meet your family halfway? You could be reunited with them if you just…stopped. 

  So you did. Your legs gave way, and you collapsed, your bag slipping from your weary shoulder. As you tumbled into the snow, it welcomed you with open arms, cushioning your fall. Then you were no longer cold, no in fact you felt warm. 

  Nestling deeper into the snow, you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to be transported to a different time and place. In your head, you saw yourself as a child, cradled in your mother's loving arms. You could almost hear her gentle humming, a lullaby- its name long since forgotten.

   The world around you faded away, and you felt yourself drifting off to sleep, the weight of your burdens finally lifted. It was a slumber that beckoned for eternity. A few moments more, and death would claim you as its own, offering you an escape from the pain and suffering that had plagued you for far too long.

   But just as you were about to surrender to sleep, a voice pierced through the darkness. It was faint at first, barely audible, but it grew louder with each passing second. "Wake up," it whispered urgently, pleading for your return. Confusion washed over you and you slowly opened your eyes, the vision of your mother fading away.

   Instead, you were met with the comforting gaze of your beast. It stood tall and formidable, its snout tenderly nudging your cheek. But you couldn't, you didn't want to go on anymore- and so, with a heavy heart, you closed your eyes once more, yearning for the eternal embrace of sleep.

It was warm you realized, almost tenderly so, the thick heat permeated every fiber of your body and it carried with it the intoxicating scent of smoke and embers, enveloping your senses in a dizzying embrace. This was no mere illusion, no figment of your imagination like the deceptive warmth you sought while nestled in the icy embrace of snow. No, this was a tangible warmth, a palpable sensation that was real. 

  It was all-encompassing, like you were wrapped in blankets and surrounded by a huge, blazing fire. It was as though the very essence of existence had been breathed back into your body. It was as if every nerve in your body was on fire. You never wanted it to end, never wanted to return to the mundane reality of life on the run. If this were death, you’d eagerly welcome it. 

  But it was not. You could hear the eerie sound of the howling blizzard wind and if you focused hard enough, you could discern the faintest touch of icy coldness caressing your skin from time to time, only to be swiftly engulfed by a comforting warmth. You were alive. You were alive. It shouldn't have tasted bitter on your tongue, the thought of living– but it did. Reality had a cruel way of creeping back in, like a thief in the night.

 Fluttering your eyes open, you’re immediately met with darkness accompanied by the faint sound of the rhythmic dripping of water. Groggily, you tilted your head towards the left, where the furious northern blizzard continued to roar with a vengeance, and you gave your weary eyes a chance to adapt to the profound darkness. After a few minutes, gradually, the feeble radiance of the moon emerged. Night had fallen.

   You could hardly think, let alone remember what happened after you passed out. Where were you? Who brought you here? And where exactly was here? All these questions but no answers. Sitting up slowly, you turn your head, scanning the surroundings with a sense of unease, the warm air wrapping you in a soft embrace, as if it were alive. Yet there was no fire to be found. No flickering flames, no glow of light, no sound of crackling firewood. Where was it coming from?

   The sound of crunching footfalls on the snow startles you and your body, overcome with a primal instinct, lurches backward, stumbling and trembling, seeking refuge against the warm cave wall. “Who is there? Have you brought me here?” Silence hangs heavy in the air, amplifying the thunderous beats of your heart, as their steps hasten and your breath becomes shallow and rapid, your chest tightening with each passing second.

   There was a high pitched whine before your Romog companion sauntered into the wide expanse of the cave. Its fur was matted with snow which seemed to twinkle like jewels in the dull moonlight. You closed your eyes and let out a soft breath of relief, resting your head against the wall, heart slowing to a soft thump. 

  You could now vaguely remember seeing the Romog before you passed out, feeling the icy cold touch of its wet nose on your cheek. Perhaps the beast had pulled you into the cave before the weather could truly put you out of your misery. 

    A nudge on your neck makes you open your eyes, gaze slanting to the right to look at the animal. Its eyes are familiar and warm, it leaves your heart to somersault lazily in your ribcage. You smile small and reach out to run your hand along its jaw. “Where have you been?” 

   There’s obviously no reply but the beast cuddles its large head into your lap and rumbles contentedly, eyes falling shut. You breathe out a sigh and caress through its wet fur, once again resting your head on the warm cave wall. With a little bit of the security you had, now that the Romog was here, you took the time to scan the cave.

  It's massive, and if the warm draft is anything to go by, it's quite deep as well. The constant but faint sound of dripping water also hints at some type of lake or stream within the cave— your mouth salivates at the thought of water sliding down your parched throat. It had been days since you'd last had anything to drink. 

   And despite how paranoid it might've sounded, this cave felt strangely, lived in— it didn't seem abandoned in the slightest, but you also felt safe. In the state that you were in, it wouldn't be wise to roam and explore the cave just yet. However, when you have the energy to go do so, you will. 

    But for now? You would sleep once more.  

[the-nasti-files]

Love to Get done

Day 1

Word Count: 4661

🔴MATURE CONTENT WARNING🔴

(not this chapter but overall)

Series Masterlist

He hummed. “You said you left because… you wanted freedom from that?”

I was quiet. “Just… freedom.”

The pain is so clear in your voice that it makes his heart ache.

“And have you found it? Freedom?”

“I—”

Have I? Or am I just running?

“I don’t know yet.”

Thrall picks up on the uncertainty in your tone, your words almost a whisper. Without thinking, he reaches out and takes your hand, fingers rubbing absentmindedly around your knuckles, tracing patterns and shapes. Even this simple touch is strangely intimate.

There’s a few minutes of silence as he mulls everything over. Everything he has learned about you in the past couple of hours. "Can I ask you something?"

My eyes find his in the darkness. “Of course.”

“Do you… do you think about going back?”

“No.” My answer is quick, sure.

“Why?”

My eyes drift closed again. “There’s nothing there for me. Just expectations. A future with someone I’ll never love, a family that doesn’t understand me… there’s no joy there.”

A/N- Hey, freaks! After a little encouragement, I'm going to try and post my little orc x human novella thing here. I am objectively bad at writing so don't be afraid to give me feedback! And I'll be honest with you, this first chapter doesnt have any smut but I swear it's coming lmfao

I had to stand on tiptoe to reach the bar, gripping the heavy mug in both hands as I shuffled toward a seat near the fire. The tavern’s warmth wrapped around me like a blanket, a stark contrast to the snow outside. I collapsed into the chair with a sigh, leaned my staff against the wall, and settled in.

"Evening."

My book nearly slipped from my lap as I jumped, startled by the deep voice. An orc loomed beside me.

"O-oh. Evening," I stammered, glancing at him briefly before returning to my book.

He chuckled and leaned casually against the wall. "What are you reading?"

“Flora of the Southern Isle. Just trying to get familiar with the region," I replied with a small smile, hoping he didn’t think I was nervous because he was an orc. I was just... anxious.

"Interesting. Healer?" He wasn’t a reader himself, but it was the easiest thing he could think of to start a conversation.

"I… dabble. In healing. Among other things."

He gave me a once-over—short, delicate hands, a staff. "You seem young. Been doing this long?"

My fingers found the end of my braid, twirling it—a nervous habit. "A few weeks. It’s slow work on short legs."

He smirked. "Short legs indeed." You looked human enough, but you were just so damn small. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-six."

His eyebrows shot up. "You look younger. Halfling blood?"

I laughed. "Somewhere along the line, yes. At least, that’s what my mother blames for my lack of height and thick middle."

He snorted, settling into the seat beside me. "What’s wrong with a thick middle?" He patted his own broad torso.

"If she had her way, I’d be as narrow as a broom handle," I said dryly. "What about you? Not many orcs this far north." I let my eyes trail over him. The sleeves had long since been ripped from his tunic, leaving his tattooed arms bare save for the metal bands adorning them.

He took a sip from his mug. "Just a traveler. Not much else to say, I suppose."

I raised an eyebrow. "Traveling to travel?"

"Just traveling to travel," he replied, nodding. "I’ve got no business, no one to go home to, nowhere I belong. I just… wander. Explore."

"That sounds… lonely."

A flicker of pain passed across his face. "It is. But what else is there to do?"

I tucked my book away and brought my legs up on the chair. "Could always be lonely surrounded by others."

"Fair point." He chuckled, watching me settle. "What’s your name?"

There was a moment of hesitation before I answered. "Annora. And you?"

"Thrall. Don’t let my size scare you." He winked, a smirk settling on his face.

I had to laugh again. "Most everyone is big to me."

He grinned, a hearty sound rumbling in his chest. "You are quite the little thing."

"The farther south I go, the smaller I feel," I joked.

"And why would a little girl like yourself want to make her way into dangerous southern territory?"

I hummed, trying to think of a simple explanation. "Just… the need to get away from an arrangement."

He raised a brow. "What kind of arrangement?"

My nose wrinkled. "Marriage. To an idiot who can't rub two brain cells together and likes to use a heavy hand."

Anger flickered in his eyes. "Not fond of the idea, I take it?"

I huffed. "Obvious, isn’t it?"

Thrall let out a soft laugh. "Yes, it’s very obvious." He eyed me as he took another drink. "Do you have your own room for the night?"

"A room? No. I don't normally take one. I prefer to be outside." I took another hefty gulp of my own drink.

"You’d rather sleep outdoors than on a bed?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "You’re either one tough girl or you’re truly insane."

"If you asked my mother, she would choose the latter."

"Your mother might be a wise woman," he joked. "Are you sure you want to sleep outside?" There was a note of concern lacing his tone.

"Worried about a stranger already?" I teased.

"Just a little worried about the small thing who can’t handle her ale," he teased back, noting the red flush gathering in my cheeks.

A scoff puffed out of me. "Well now, that is quite the assumption! I can handle my ale just fine!"

"Prove it."

Unfortunately, I was physically incapable of backing down from a challenge.

Fortunately, I’d learned to drink from the best of them.

Taking the mug in my hands, I downed it while never breaking eye contact, then slammed the tankard back against the table.

"Impressive," he admitted. "And you’re not the least bit dizzy?"

I laughed—maybe a bit louder than necessary. "Not in the least."

"Stubborn and cocky. Dangerous mix. You really do plan to sleep outside in the middle of winter, don't you?"

"Yep."

He shook his head. "You’re unbelievable," he muttered as he stood, taking my bag from me, dangling it just out of reach as I laughed.

"Excuse you!"

"Yes?" His voice was teasing, feigning ignorance of the situation.

There was a tap on my shoulder, and I turned to find a man behind me. "Excuse me, miss, is this creature bothering you?"

Thrall’s expression darkened. "We’re talking."

I turned to the man, hands finding my hips. "Did your mother teach you to be rude or is that a skill you developed on your own?"

He gaped at me. "He’s clearly harassing you."

"Quite the opposite, sir. You are being an ass, and I find that quite bothersome," I shot back.

His eyes narrowed. "What did you call me?"

"An ass,” I repeated, taking a challenging step forward.

He snarled, "Why, you little brat—"

Before he could lunge, my staff was in my hand and it connected with his head with a loud thump. "Maybe you need to be taught some manners!"

He let out a yelp of pain, stumbling back a few paces. "How dare you—"

Thrall stepped in front of me, cutting him off and placing a restraining hand on my shoulder. "I think that’s enough."

"You’re lucky this savage is here!" the man shouted.

"You’re lucky I didn’t hit you with something harder," I hissed in reply.

He sneered, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh sure, a few more hits from your little stick and I’ll be on the ground."

Thrall’s grip around my shoulder tightened as I tried to lunge forward. "You can meet me outside and we’ll see who’s on the ground, you half-baked waste of ale!"

The man was now livid, his face red with anger. He clearly didn’t appreciate being talked back to by someone like me.

"Oh, you’d like that, would you?"

Thrall was still holding me by the shoulder, keeping me from jumping at the man.

"You’re nothing but a scared little girl. You’d get knocked out in one hit if you weren’t hiding behind some beast." His confidence was clearly rising.

"Outside," I growled, smacking the orc’s hand with my staff. I earned a surprised look from Thrall as he snatched his hand back and a mocking laugh from the jackass in front of us.

"You want to go outside? Let’s go."

I grumbled as I stalked toward the door, followed by the mouthy asshole and a few other patrons itching to see what happened.

The tavern buzzed with murmurs as we stepped outside. The man sneered, circling me.

"You really think you can win?"

"You really think you can think?"

His smirk twisted into a snarl. "I’m going to enjoy this."

My hand covered my mouth as I pretended to yawn, leaning against my staff, letting him have his little moment.

"You must be stupid to not fear me," he growled as he lunged forward.

"Nah." I planted my feet and pulled on some power from the cold ground, letting it fill my body before whirling the staff and landing another blow to the side of his head, sending him sprawling into the snow, unconscious.

Thrall let out a whistle of appreciation and started clapping his hands slowly.

I turned to the orc, hand in the air for my bag as the crowd murmured behind me.

He returned my pack, eyes wide. "Never seen anyone so small take a man down like that."

"I’m not like most people," I grumbled, tugging on my cloak and heading into the woods.

Shaking his head, he started after me. "That you’re not, little one."

Thrall walks beside you in silence for a few minutes before speaking. “You did well back there.”

I can’t help but grimace. “I can hold my own when the need arises.”

He follows as you move deeper into the woods, watching your hands brush against the trees until you stop before an old oak. You press your forehead to the bark, and a deep hum resonates through the ground, raising the hairs on his arms.

I smile as I step back. The older trees always have such generous energy to share. Gripping my staff in both hands, I plant it firmly into the earth. Power flows beneath me, and I guide it—roots twisting, limbs bending, snow cascading from the canopy as a shelter begins to take form from the living wood. The oak’s power is practically singing through my veins as I finish, my skin tingling as I break the connection.

Thrall watches, transfixed. In all his years, he’s seen many things—but nothing quite like this. He circles the newly formed structure, awe evident in his expression. “This is incredible.”

He turns to you, eyes wide with wonder. “How did you do this?”

“Earth magic,” I say simply.

He frowns, repeating the phrase incredulously. “Earth magic?” The concept is foreign to him—power pulled from the ground itself, both fascinating and a little terrifying.

“Well, that’s what I call it.” I grab my pack and toss it inside. “I draw energy from the earth. The staff helps focus it, but I don’t need it to channel.”

He still looks puzzled. “You can control the earth? Just like that?”

“Yes, well, more or less.” I step into the shelter, placing a hand on the trunk. “This old beauty holds a wealth of energy—and gave me permission to use it.”

He remains at the entrance, hesitant. “Permission? You ask the trees?”

“It’s the polite thing to do,” I reply, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world, while rummaging through my pack.

“And they always say yes?” he asks, peering in.

“Gods, no.” I chuckle, smoothing my bedroll on a shelf woven from roots. “But this area’s kind to its woods. They're more amenable.”

Thrall watches, still trying to wrap his mind around you. “You said the staff wasn’t necessary—but it helps?”

My smile turns a little wistful. “Yes. It was a gift.”

His gaze shifts to the staff. “May I see it?”

I passed it to him. His large hands explore the smooth wood reverently.

“There’s a willow near where I grew up,” I explained. “I used to practice beneath her branches after...” I trail off. “The staff was her gift.”

He smiles at the picture. “A wise old willow, letting a curious young girl play beneath her branches. Sounds like a storybook.”

“Are you heading back to the tavern?” I ask abruptly.

“Uh, no.” He shakes his head. “Why?”

“You’re welcome to stay here, if you like.”

He blinks, surprised. “You’re offering to let a total stranger sleep in your tree shelter?”

I shrug. “You’re not much of a stranger anymore. You’re welcome to stay.” I gesture to the shelf-bed formed from twisted roots.

He considers you carefully, eyes scanning the space. “You sure? Me—an orc? Big, scary?”

My face scrunches. “Big, yes. Scary, no.”

“Oh?” he asks, folding his arms and leaning against the tree. “You don’t find me scary?”

“You haven’t given me a reason to be scared.”

“But I’m an orc. Don’t I look intimidating?” He gestures to himself. “Seven and a half feet tall, covered in scars, belt full of knives?”

“Would you be offended if I said no?”

He laughs, a low rumble. “Not offended. Just curious. Why not?” He asks, tilting his head to the side as he looks down at you.

I tilt my head, mirroring his. "I find judging upon someone's looks to be a silly way to determine anything."

His smirk softens. “Fair. There’s more to a person than their appearance. So what do you judge by, then?”

I let the question roll around in my head, fingers finding the end of my braid again. "Kindness. Emotional maturity.”

He nods slowly. “Good choices.” His gaze lingers on you. “You say I’m not intimidating, but the things I’ve done in battle would frighten you.”

I wave a hand. “Your past is your problem. I’m looking at who you are now.”

Thrall raises an eyebrow. “And what do you see?”

I hum thoughtfully. “Well, you took initiative to defend me despite our brief acquaintance, you did not let that useless oaf's words goad you into a fight, and-” I pause, smirking. “You’re quite handsome.”

“You think I’m handsome, huh?” He grins, arms folding again.

I give him a once-over. “I’m short, not blind.”

His laugh fills the shelter. “Ah, I see. So now that we've established that I'm not that scary, and apparently you find me handsome, perhaps I can ask a question?"

“By all means. I’m an open book.”

He chuckles. “An open book, huh? Well, then.” He leans closer. “You’re out here alone, and you just invited me to stay. Aren’t you worried a big, muscular, supposedly handsome orc might take advantage of that?”

I laugh loudly. “I see the compliment’s already gone to your head. I could have you on your ass in seconds.”

“Says the tiny woman.” He smirks. “You think you could take me down?”

Suddenly, roots shoot up around his ankles, coiling tightly. He startles, tugging at them to no avail. “What the—?”

“Easy peasy,” I say with a smug grin.

His surprise turns to grudging admiration. “A little warning next time?”

"Ah, but it's more fun this way." I laugh, easing the roots back to their home underground.

“You’re a cheeky little thing,” he mutters, rubbing his ankles. He looks up with a half-smile. “So… you’ve got me at your mercy, huh? Gonna keep me tied up all night?”

“Only if you ask nicely.” I tease, rummaging through my bag again.

“And if I don’t ask nicely?”

"Then don't give me a reason." I pull an apple from my bag and a knife from my boot.

“I’ll keep that in mind, little one.” He leans back, watching as I slice the fruit. Despite himself, he’s intrigued—by your magic, your confidence, and your complete lack of fear.

I hold up a slice of apple in offering, lost in my own thoughts. Our fingers brush, and something unfamiliar sparks in the space between us.

“Do you often invite strange orcs into your tree?” he asks.

“No. You’re the first stranger to share my tree with me.”

His brows quirk up. “No one else ever shared it with you?”

"Well-” I cut off another slice of the apple before I finish. “Nobody has ever followed me into the woods before.”

His brow furrows. “You mean you wander around out here all alone?”

I scoff. “You sound surprised for someone who travels alone!"

“Sure. But you’re so… small. You're not exactly an intimidating figure.”

“And what would you suggest, oh wise traveler?” I drawl.

He pretends to think it over. “A companion. Preferably large. Possibly intimidating.”

“Why, Thrall.” I press a hand to my chest. “Are you asking to be my travel companion?”

“And what if I am?” he asks, amused.

I set the apple and knife aside with a smile and yawn. “Then I’d probably say yes.”

“You’re a bold little thing, aren't you?”

Another yawn escapes me. “Would you rather I said no?”

Thrall’s expression turns serious. “No. I’d rather you be honest.”

His tone draws me upright. “If I’m honest... yes. I’d like some company. The days can be exceedingly long.”

He seems genuinely surprised. “You would? Really?” He asks, his tone betraying an underlying sense of hopefulness.

“You sound surprised." I reply, raising a curious eyebrow.

Thrall chuckles, his expression softening. "I am. You're just so..." He pauses, trying to find the right words.  "... Different from the people I'm used to." He finally says, tilting his head as he examines your face in the dim light.

“Different how?”

"You're not afraid of me. Most people...no, all people are afraid of me. But you—” He pauses, gaze locked with mine. “You invited me in. Offered to let me sleep beside you. I still can’t wrap my head around that. Who does that?”

I shrug, still not understanding his confusion. “Because… you haven’t given me a reason to be afraid.” I repeat my earlier sentiment.

Thrall raised an eyebrow. “No reason, huh? I’m an orc, little one. One you’ve just met. I’m over a foot taller than you, near twice your size, tusks and all. Any of that ring any bells?”

“That ass at the tavern gave me reason to distrust him in one sentence,” I replied. “You’ve been nothing but kind—even stood up for me. And I think the tusks are interesting.” I shrugged. “Sue me.”

“Interesting, huh?” Thrall chuckled. “Tusks are interesting?”

“Are they sharp?”

“My tusks?”

“No, your toes.” I rolled my eyes. “Yes, your tusks.”

“They’re sharp enough. Wanna see for yourself?” he asked, a smirk tugging at his lips.

I hesitated. “That’s not like, wildly inappropriate or something?”

Thrall’s smirk deepened. “It’s not. Go on. Have a feel.”

He sat on the ground, suddenly very close. His eyes were a deep, stormy blue I hadn’t noticed before.

“Don’t be shy,” he coaxed, gesturing to his tusks.

I reached out slowly, pausing as he watched me, then let my fingers trail over one.

My touch was light, but it made him freeze, his smirk softening into a crooked smile. “What do they feel like?” he asked, his gaze flicking between my hand and my face.

“Like teeth, I guess.” I ran my finger along the point. “Not as sharp as I thought.” His eyes were locked on me now, studying my expression.

“How sharp did you think they’d be?” he asked, his voice low, rougher.

“I… I’m not sure.” My cheeks warmed. “Can you feel when they’re touched?”

“Yes. They’re… sensitive.”

“Can I ask something?”

He swallowed. “Ask away.”

My voice is still soft. “What are they for? Are they just for show?”

Thrall hummed, trying to steady himself. “They serve a few purposes.” He cleared his throat. “Protection. Dominance. Self-defense. Intimidation.”

I nodded. “Makes sense.”

He didn’t look away. The moment suddenly felt intimate—fragile. “Anything else you’re curious about?” he asked before he could stop himself.

I looked down, suddenly shy. “I’ve seen others with adornments on them. Metal bands and such?”

“They’re used to show status, loyalty, achievements…” He hesitated. “And for… other purposes.”

I looked back up at him. “Other purposes?”

He met my gaze, clearly embarrassed. “Yes... You see, an orc's tusks... They're uh...." He struggles to find the right words, his tongue suddenly thick in his mouth.

"An orc's tusks are, umm... sensitive." He finally manages, cheeks now definitely red as he finally gets the words out.

"Sensitive...?" I repeat, my curiosity piqued. "How so?"

“Well... They're kind of like… erogenous zones, shall we put it?" He mumbled, flushing deeply.

My eyes went wide. “And you just let me touch them?!”

“Yes. And you’re not repulsed or… freaking out.”

“I am freaking out a little!” I squeaked.

“Why? Aren’t you disgusted?”

"No, I'm not disgusted! Just... flustered!!" My hands fan my overheated face.

Thrall grinned. "Flustered?" He asks, leaning forward a bit. "You're flustered? Because of me?"

“You wipe that shit-eating grin off your face!”

The bastard's smile just gets bigger. “Or what? Gonna hit me with your little stick?”

“Don’t tempt me.” I grabbed my knife and apple again, taking an aggressive bite.

"You're quite violent for such a tiny little thing." He teases.

 "Perhaps it's because I'm a ‘tiny little thing’."

Thrall snorted. “You’re cute, you know that?”

I glared. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Thrall.”

His hands raise in mock surrender, smile never faltering. "I wasn't trying to flatter you, I was just stating a fact. I think you're cute." He says, shrugging.

I rolled my eyes, the heat in my cheeks betraying me. “Sure. I’m sure you find all small things cute.”

“Small things in general, sure. But you—” He paused, his grin turning sly. “You’re more than just cute.”

“You… stop that.”

“Or what? You gonna hit me with your knife? Or your apple core?”

Neither. Instead, I silently asked a branch to flick him on the back of the head.

Thrall jerked. “Hey!” He rubbed the spot. “Did you do that?”

“Oh no, definitely not me.” I said innocently, stuffing the last of the apple into my mouth.

"You know, you can be quite bratty, you little thing." He grumbles, still rubbing the back of his head where the branch hit him.

My scoff is only marginally sarcastic as I clean my knife, stuffing it back into my pack. "I think I may take offense to that."

“You may—but it’s true. Bratty. And small.” He poked me lightly.

I gasped in mock offense. “Maybe I’m bratty because you keep calling me little all the time!”

“Oh, sorry. What should I call you instead? Tiny? Petite? Cute?”

“You could try using my name? Or should I call you ‘Obnoxiously Tall One’?”

Thrall feigns offense, putting a hand dramatically over his heart. "I am wounded! And I'm not obnoxiously tall. You're just obnoxiously small."

I laughed, yawning mid-chuckle. “I’m not that short of where I come from.”

“Maybe. But to me, you’re tiny. Tiny, bratty, and apparently sleepy.”

"Maybe I'm just tired from a long day. Being little means a lot of work." I mutter, crossing my arms in defiance.

“You look tired,” he said, voice gentling. “You should rest.”

I snuggled into my cloak. “You should too.”

He nodded. “Yeah… probably. Uh… where do I sleep?”

I patted the shelf of roots beside me. “I think I made it long enough for both of us.”

“You’re sure it’ll hold?”

I patted the tree. “She’s a sturdy ol gal. She can handle it.”

He looked between me and the tree, skeptical. “You keep calling it ‘she.’ You sure?”

I yawned again. “Some plants are male, some female, but most are monoecious—both parts. 

They can either have both types of flowers on one plant or the flowers are bisexual, all in one type thing."

"And.... you can tell just by looking that it's a female?" He asks, his gaze shifting to the tree.

"No, I asked. Oaks are monoecious. She can do it all on her own. She just happens to prefer female pronouns."

Thrall's eyebrows furrow."You... asked? You asked which pronouns the tree preferred?" He asks, a slightly incredulous look on his face.

“It’s the polite thing to do.”

"You are the most unique person I have ever met," He says, looking at you. "Asking a tree which pronouns it prefers... And getting an answer..." He shakes his head lightly, the concept hard for him to understand. 

Thrall steps closer to the tree, looking up into its branches. "Hello, tree." He says hesitantly, not sure what to expect.

I giggle. "She likes you."

"She... likes me?" He asks, his gaze shifting to look down at you as he tries to wrap his head around the possibility.

I lean over, grabbing my staff. "Here, let me try something." I shift a little closer. "Hand," I instruct.

He hesitated, then placed his hand in mine. I wrapped it around the staff, placing both of mine over his. Magic surged through it, rushing into him. I laughed as the tree’s energy sparked.

His eyes widened, muscles tensing. “What is—what’s happening?”

I’m grinning like a fool. “Do you feel it?”

“I—yes. I feel it. It’s… incredible.”

“Oh!” I blushed, still laughing.

He stared at me, his heart pounding. “What was that?”

I pulled my hands away, ceasing the flow of energy. “That was a tree being cheeky.”

“Cheeky? The tree? That... doesn't make any sense." He rubs a hand across his face. "...Wait. You're saying the tree did that on purpose? I thought you were controlling it."

“Nope.” I set the staff down, cheeks warm. “She… liked what she saw.”

Thrall’s jaw dropped. “She liked what she saw?”

I looked away. “She admired your… assets.”

He blinked. “My… what?”

My cheeks are heating again. “You know what? Let’s just go to sleep.”

There is obvious skepticism on his face as he gingerly sits, the root-bed groaning under his weight as he shifts and lays down. The stars peeked through the branches above.

"I uh... I've never shared a bed before." He mumbles, the words leaving his mouth before he could think about what he was saying.

“I find that hard to believe,” I murmured.

Thrall chuckles softly, shaking his head. "Believe it or not, it's the truth." 

Silence. Crickets.

“Have you ever shared a bed with someone?” he asked.

“An arranged marriage since childhood doesn’t leave much room for cuddling up in bed with someone.”

He hummed. “You said you left because… you wanted freedom from that?”

I was quiet. “Just… freedom.”

The pain is so clear in your voice that it makes his heart ache.

“And have you found it? Freedom?”

“I—”

Have I? Or am I just running?

“I don’t know yet.”

Thrall picks up on the uncertainty in your tone, your words almost a whisper. Without thinking, he reaches out and takes your hand, fingers rubbing absentmindedly around your knuckles, tracing patterns and shapes. Even this simple touch is strangely intimate.

There’s a few minutes of silence as he mulls everything over. Everything he has learned about you in the past couple of hours. "Can I ask you something?"

My eyes find his in the darkness. “Of course.”

“Do you… do you think about going back?”

“No.” My answer is quick, sure.

“Why?”

My eyes drift closed again. “There’s nothing there for me. Just expectations. A future with someone I’ll never love, a family that doesn’t understand me… there’s no joy there.”

Thrall’s heart twisted. He feels the need to offer comfort, to fix the pain he can hear... so he does the first thing that comes to mind. He shifts, gently tugging at your hand.

"Can I hold you?" His voice is soft, a whisper in the dark.

I hesitated, then nodded.

He pulled me gently into his arms. I fit against him‌ like I was meant to be there, his warmth irresistible.

Thrall lets out a soft sigh, hand moving to run over your head as it's tucked under his chin.

I relaxed, letting out a small yawn.

His other hand found my chin, lifting my face. “Can I… tell you something?”

I blinked sleepily. “Hmm?”

He brushed a strand of hair from my cheek, voice barely audible. “You’re fascinating.”

The words fall from his mouth before he can stop them.

Even half-asleep, my cheeks burned. And I can't help but bury my face in his chest.

He held me tighter, breathing in the scent of my hair, heart thudding with fierce protectiveness. He's lost in his thoughts when your voice drifts up to him, low with sleepiness. 

“Thrall?” I whispered.

“Yeah?” His voice rumbled low against me.

“Promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“Promise me you’ll stay with me tomorrow. Promise you won’t leave me.”

Alone.

Silence again. Just the sound of both of us breathing.

He held me closer, his voice thick. “I promise.”

And as I drifted off, he stayed wide awake, arms around me, murmuring into my hair—

“I’ll keep you safe.”

[m1k-019]

My FGO hot takes are that Camazotz, ORT, and Tametomo are the sexiest characters.

cuties.

[drunkapple]

Gilgamesh x Female Reader | Devour you

Cw - Noncon/Rape, cunnilings, fingering, squirting, stalking, breeding, two cocks, gil is his own warning, drugging & drugged sex, kidnapping, vaginal penetration, biting, monsterfucking, gil is his own warning he's an ass, 3.1k words.

Smut below the cut, and there's my ao3 ❤️(formatted better there. Tumblr is confusing me)

This is my 1st publicly uploaded fic lol, give me valid criticism

Made with the appearance & personality of caster gil in mind. But interpret any gil u want!

Perhaps it would be a bad idea to go venturing alone into the disgusting, hot swamp located near your home. Sadly, your situation calls for it. The village you reside in is in desperate need of food, no matter the quality. Women, men, and children alike are constantly sent out to gather whatever scraps they can find. You step carefully on the soft wet ground, cringing at the squish under your boots. You don't want to risk falling into the murky water. The sun beats down your body, making you feel miserable with the gear you have on. Stopping, you survey the area and force yourself to remember your task.

To find cattails, fish, or some type of meat that will keep your family full for some days. "This place fucking stinks..." You grumble, trudging along. You look up as you approach some kind of forest, rich with thick, tall trees. Of course, you decide that it's the best direction to head in. Thirst and exhaustion have already begun to take root in your body. Alas, you need to preserve water and can't afford to waste time resting. There's also a weird smell in the air. Yiu can't place it, but it makes you uneasy. Even worse, you've been wandering around for what felt like hours, with little luck. How is there no food in this place? You lean against the nearest tree trunk, gathering yourself.

When you first came here, you at least found some cattails. Keyword, some. It's strange because cattails are known for their tendency to grow in large groups. You stare at the plants in your hand, humming softly. Overthinking and panicking over something so small must be the environment and intense smell getting to your head. The smell.Right, when did it get so strong? You stand straight, nausea making you dizzy. The back of your neck tingles, as if someone is behind you. Next time you leave the house, it will be with someone. You take out your canteen of water, drinking deeply. Time to leave this area."Is that what you're doing, you fool? Scavenging for food in someone else's home?"

Your blood runs cold. A male laugh comes from above. His voice is arrogant and cold. At this moment, you realize that the smell is coming from him. It's overwhelmingly strong.He smells of an assortment of spices and strangely, a metallic smell that's faintly sweet."How interesting. Is this what humans have come to?"You nervously look up, greeted by a sight that makes you hold your breath. Smooth golden blonde hair, framing a face that would make you weak under different circumstances. His eyes are a deep crimson red, and his gaze makes you feel like he can see right through you. His most notable feature, though, is his thick, long, scaly tail. A pretty gold, with swirling lines of red decorating it. You step back. "W-what are you?"

"Who gave you permission to gaze upon me? Let alone, speak?" Your eyes are off him in an instant, slowly backing away. This can't be real, right? Monsters don't exist, so you must be hallucinating from the heat. He's obviously not real. Just walk away and continue your search. That's all that needs to be done. "And who told you to move?" You freeze. He sits up, watching you closely. He slithers down the tree gracefully, distracting you from running. Leaving. The smell of him snaps you out of your trance, stumbling back haphazardly."Stay away from me! Why are you here?" This definitely isn't a hallucination. Now that he's closer, you realize just how big he is. He's radiating warmth.Fuck.His eyes narrow. "You say this as if I am the intruder here. This is the territory of me, Gilgamesh." you step on a soft patch of grass, nearly slipping.

He only draws closer, your heart starting to pound faster. "Who exactly are you, little human?"Your feet act before "Gilgamesh" can get any closer.You're sprinting, thoughts of falling or slipping escaping your mind. Your feet pound against the wet grass in your desperate attempt to escape. Your gear is heavy on you, but you can't afford to stop.What would that thing do to you if that thing caught you? No, don't think about it. Just *stop* thinking altogether. You need to focus on breathing and moving.In, out. Right foot, left foot. Keep going forward, and don't stop.Just keep running, and your way out will-Suddenly, that comforting pattern was violently put to a stop.Your torso is tightly squeezed by the thick, pretty tail you were admiring mere minutes before. You wheeze, the sudden pressure forcing air out of your lungs."Why do mongrels like you think they can get away from a being of my caliber?"

The man scoffs, drawing closer until you feel his chest press against your back. His breath is strangely hot, and his musk overwhelms you."P-please, I don't want any trouble. I just need to feed my family. I'll be gone before you know it, so -"

"Food shouldn't speak. Stay quiet." A cold shiver runs through your body. Food? After all your hard (debatable) work, you're being reduced to some freak of nature's meal? A nightmare, that's what this has to be. Before you can pity yourself or try to reason with him to let you go, Gilgamesh's sharp fangs sink deep into the skin of your shoulder. Pain. To Dizziness. Followed by a strange sensitivity that sends tingles up your spine. Your mind goes blank, eyes suddenly heavy. You groan, pushing weakly at the arms that wrap around your waist.The last thing you feel is his tongue licking a long stripe up your cheek.

♡♡

When you come to your senses, you're pinned beneath a familiar body, your gear discarded, leaving you in your plain clothes. Your eyes widen as the strange man's tongue is shoved into your mouth, greedily sucking on your tongue, while forcing thick liquid down your throat.Your immediate protests are swallowed by him, who is seemingly enjoying your struggle. You can't even turn your head an inch with his iron grip on the back of your head.After several seconds, he pulls back with what you assume is pale gold saliva dripping from his mouth. You gasp for air, scrambling away as soon as he's off of you."Ah, my venom wore off rather quick."Gilgamesh hums softly, his sharp nails digging into soft grass.

You tremble against the wall of leaves behind you. Your vision is slightly blurred, and your body feels sluggish. Slowly taking in your surroundings, you realize you're in a den of sorts. It's big, spacious, and smells only of him. There are many different types of golden ornaments and other precious treasures littered throughout his "home." Despite where he lives, he owns many modern things. But his home or lifestyle isn't your main issue.You're starting to feel strange. Suddenly your clothes are too tight, too hot. Your vision blurs further. And worst of all, there's an agonizing ache starting to build in your lower tummy.

You feel feverish, almost."Hm, it took a bit to kick in," Gilgamesh muses, red eyes following you carefully. You let out an embarrassing sound. When did his voice become so attractive? "I can't *wait* to break you."You suck in heavy breaths, trying to focus on anything but him. "It's been ages since I've had a visitor. Let alone a human one," he draws closer, long tail wrapping around your ankle and yanking you back underneath him. "And you *do* know what time of the year it is, don't you?"Not really, and you don't care. You're barely paying attention to his words, groaning softly as he speaks. The heat in your core is only growing worse."It's spring, foolish girl." He taps your cheek with his middle and ring fingers.

Pathetically, a strange thought of having them sunk deep into your cunt makes you clench desperately around nothing. He chuckles, sliding his fingers into your mouth. "Suck. Focus on my words, yes? I'll reward you." He licks his lips, wanting to sink his teeth into you, but he can't rush. He has to slowly drive you insane."You see, girl, I'm feeling rather desperate. Spring is my mating season, and there's no one else here, but you. Now, since you're an intruder, it's only fair that I take what I want from you as a punishment, right?" You half-heartedly follow along, obediently sucking on his fingers as he thrusts them into your mouth. Gilgamesh gently scrapes his nails against your tongue, his eyes glinting with approval.

"Good girl. And what I want is to breed you. Get you nice and pregnant. It's only fair, right?" Your tongue stops lazily swirling around his fingers, and your eyes dart up to his. Gilgamesh smiles as his free hand slowly unbuttons your shorts, tugging them off your body. He groans at the sight of your soaked panties, breathing in the enticing smell of your arousal. His mouth waters. "In mongrel terms, I want to fuck you."Your brain very slowly processes his previous words. *Pregnancy? Breeding? Birth?* You mumble against his fingers, shaking your head. "N-no... I need... home..." You slur, pushing weakly at his chest.He slides his wet fingers out of your mouth, drifting them down your body. They come to a stop just beneath your belly button. "You say no? Drugged and at my mercy, you still don't want to give in?" He coos softly, almost innocently, before tearing your thin panties away.

"I can't!" you plead, but the arousal leaking from your pussy says otherwise. His fingers find your clit, rubbing teasingly light circles on it. You bite your lip to stop yourself from moaning. You have to try and fight through this haze, this spell. He leans down to kiss you again, his fingers starting to stroke your clit more insistently. You keep your mouth shut tight, afraid that he'll drug you further.Gilgamesh scoffs before slapping your sensitive clit, drawing a yelp from your lips. "Never deny me."

He's already growing impatient, but he knows he needs to prepare you. Gilgamesh places himself in between your legs, his hot breath against your pussy making you tremble. He keeps a tight grip one of your thighs, biting into it. You whimper, your limbs almost immediately melting into nothing.He drags his tongue from your thigh to your clit, massaging it with the muscle. You moan pathetically, the feeling overwhelming your fried senses.He licks a long stripe up your folds, before going back to kissing and gently sucking your abused clit, making you squirm with what little power you have left.

You cry out as his hot mouth latches around your cunt, greedily suckling and swallowing any juices you gush.He hungrily laps at you, relishing your taste, the way you squeal and moan for him, the way you try to struggle. His hands squeeze your thighs.He pulls back with a wet pop, his eyes darkened. "Mmm, I don't think I'll let you go. You *need* to be my cumdump. My breeding bitch." He pants softly, one of his hands sneakily making its way toward your pussy. "I *need* you to squirt. You understand, right?" He rubs his ring and middle fingers against your clenching entrance.He bites your thigh, breaking skin.

Gilgamesh brings tears to your eyes as more of his venom and aphrodisiac pour into your body.He feeds his fingers into your cunt, groaning softly as he feels how tight you are. He kisses the bite on your thigh, licking his lips. You're shaking, hands squeezing the grass weakly as he pumps his fingers into you, curling them occasionally to hit a spot that makes you choke on your drool.You almost scream as he starts flicking your swollen bud with his tongue, your hips trying to buck away from his mouth.He laughs against your pussy, before continuing to finger you while mercilessly kissing and sucking on your clit. You sob, the pleasure short circuiting your brain. You try desperately to push his head away, but his free arm presses down firmly on your stomach.

The pressure makes your core feel weird. You writhe and start babbling for him to stop, tugging at his hair.But he doesn't. Instead, he chases your cunt each time you try to struggle away. Every time you do this, he nips your clit with his sharp teeth, mixing pain with pleasure.You scream as your orgasm suddenly rips through you, white spots dancing across your vision as you squirt on his face. He quickly moves to greedily lap at your juices, shivering as he does so.He pulls back with a wide grin that makes you queasy."I've exercised great patience. I haven't even touched myself."Gilgamesh sits up, leaning down to cup your face."You know what's next, right?" He mumbles, squeezing your cheeks. "Do not make this hard for me. Do not fight me, do not scream at me, or I will hurt you."You whimper, feeling hot tears starting to roll down your cheeks. He moves one of his hands away from you."Keep crying, though. You're cute."

Before you know it, his cocks are slipping out of his genital slits. He hisses softly, watching them ooze precum against your tummy. You can feel the way they throb and twitch, and it makes you sick."You should know that I'm going to make you take both." He caresses your waist, and you let out shaky breaths.Gilgamesh chuckles at the way you jump when he rubs the tips of his appendages against your weeping entrance.Surely this can't be real? He doesn't seriously think you'll be able to take both, right? Just one of those things could break you, and -Gilgamesh rips you away from your thoughts as he squeezes your waist, pulling you down and starting to force his cocks into your cunt.You're about to protest, to try and push him away, but Gilgamesh anticipates this. He forcefully holds you down, biting into your shoulder.How much venom has he pumped into you at this point? You slump, and he quickly smothers you.

He wraps his arms around you, pressing his forehead to yours. Your eyes glaze over, mouth hanging open as he grunts above you, watching his lengths disappear into your warm, tight pussy. You're wet (and drugged up enough) for it not to hurt, but the sheer stretch makes you tremble."I can't take this slow anymore." That's all the warning you get before he thrusts forward, completely hilting his cocks into your heat.Gilgamesh groans, nuzzling his face against your neck as he wastes no time, pumping his girthy lengths into you. His tips press against your cervix with each thrust, making you dizzy.He hisses at the way you unconsciously squeeze him, drools at the way his heavy balls slap against your ass."Your little pussy's swallowing me in," he huffs, hips rutting into you faster. "You don't want to let go. I knew you wanted this." His thumbs press down just under your navel, obsessed with the way his members bulge in your tummy.

You mewl and whimper, hands weakly pushing against his chest. You feel like you're about to explode, the pressure in your heat like no other. No other experience could come close to this. You feel that familiar knot in your tummy already starting to build up.Gilgamesh slows for a moment, keeping himself buried to the hilt as he grinds his lengths inside you. He groans at how your heat flutters around him before pressing hungry kisses to your mouth.You gasp against him as he suddenly lifts your legs over his shoulders, staying still for a moment. He slowly draws his thick members halfway out and chuckles softly at the breath of relief you let out.He slams back in, relishing the way you scream, the way your nails dig into his skin.

He knows that you're too weak to do anything but take it. Your mind blanks when he resumes his relentless pumping, the new angle letting him hump deeper into your abused pussy."Mmh, you're not leaving," almost immediately, you're cumming, squirting on his throbbing cocks. "I just have to keep you. Wouldn't you like that, little mongrel? Becoming my most prized treasure?" His rambling is useless, since now you're barely listening. Your gaze is focused on the way he slides in and out, the way his hips stutter when you squeeze him, the way his pretty scales gleam."Gonna cum. You're gonna make me cum." He murmurs, arms wrapping around your waist as he thrusts desperately, chasing release. Your mind barely registers his words, but the change in pace makes you squirt again.Gilgamesh hilts himself, shuddering as his orgasm washes over him.

He holds you close to him as (what you can only assume to be his eggs) force themselves into your womb through one of his cocks. The other fertilizes them, shooting sticky loads of cum into your cunt.They twitch and throb, and you can feel the way he's still slowly grinding into you. The way his warm seed fills you up. He huffs as he watches some of it leak out and pool under your ass.Gilgamesh slowly pulls out, as if hesitant to leave the warmth of your pussy. He lies back, bringing you to rest against his chest. He breathes softly, hands resting on your hips as he lazily rubs his leaking cocks against your tummy. You barely pay attention to the fact that he's still hard.Your body is a mess. You can't feel your legs, your pussy feels raw, your eyes are puffy from crying, your throat sore from screaming and moaning. And his bites definitely wouldn't heal up any soon.You pant softly, trying to catch your breath as he rubs his thumbs against your flesh. You almost strangely feel relaxed, but that's probably the venom speaking for you. "That should be enough."The bastard kisses your forehead as he slams his cocks back into your puffy cunt. He grins, hugging you close to him as he thrusts up, ignoring the way you squeal and plead for him to stop."You thought we were done? Just keep drooling against my chest, mongrel. This is your fault for coming into my home, anyway."

[monstersholygrail]

I think the main thing that I love about monster lovers is that they do such a good job of feeling naturally dominant but still nurturing because of "instinct". Does that make sense? It's something I strongly desire in a man, but all I seem to find are Chads or christian grey mfeers.

Yesss, anon you make perfect sense. I see you. I honestly feel like that’s a big allure to monsters in general too! Like monsters know how to be rough and dominant with their partners, but they know when enough is enough, they know when to be gentle and cherishing because of that instinct to protect their mates. Monsters actually know that there’s a necessary balance between rough and gentle and even when they lose themselves and get every rough, it’s always followed up by equally measured gentleness.

I also think another factor is that monsters typically view humans as something precious and even if they don’t initially I think they usually end up doing so in the end, depends on the piece of literature lol. But if anything they at least view mates as precious where a lot of people don’t as much anymore. Making monsters all the more appealing

[monstersmashorpass]

SMASH OR PASS: Ivan the Terrible, Fate Franchise

Propaganda from Submitter: Avid reader and supporter of local libraries. Canonically reads to people to help them sleep with the most soothing baritone voice around. And he’s 17 feet tall and can shoot lightning.

[oubliette-odette]

The Reluctance of Love Pt. 25

Look who's baaaaaccccckkkk.

I've written a few chapters ahead so that it will hopefully help me to stay on top of this story and not fall behind....again.

But life loves to be silly and change our plans, so let's hope we can stay consistent this time.

Orc Male x Half-Elf Male, Fated Mates, Forbidden Love, Slow Burn Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23 Content Warnings: unhealthy parent dynamics All orcish is from orcishdictionary.com, created by Matt Vancil.

Altan POV

I looked back down at my breakfast and was resigned to starve. I had no appetite. Not since I woke up with the vial missing. My hand consistently reached for my chest to hold it and found nothing there, leaving me feeling hollow and heavy inside. Where had I misplaced it? My father had insisted I bathe and change last night after our conversation, and I took great care to place it where it wouldn’t get lost.

I wasn’t stupid enough to not suspect my father, especially seeing how pleased he was this morning. This playing nice was all some sort of act, but I also didn’t doubt that the Lady of Triel was a means to handle our - or should I say his - debts. I wouldn’t abandon my brothers so carelessly. I would do what I needed to, to satisfy the masses and then if the gods be willing, I would disappear and I would find Drunrag

Which meant I needed that vial.

But even without the vial, I had to trust that he was still alive. I would know, wouldn’t I? I would feel something change in me if he were gone? But he and I weren’t connected anymore, maybe I was being dramatic for thinking there was something still holding him to me. I ran my hand through my hair and siged. My mind was racing too fast to keep up.

“You are not feeling well?” My father asked from across the table.

I looked up and met his eyes. I couldn’t read him. Was it truly concern I was reading in his voice? Or was there an edge to it?

I stuttered to speak, “I-I…I’m not feeling totally myself this morning.” I admitted. “Perhaps I should get some fresh air?”

My father was silent as he in turn studied me, read me. It seemed we were both still playing the game of guessing who was a step in front of whom.

“We’ll be leaving to return to Berdusk shortly, the Duke and Lady Allara are waiting for us.”

“Isn’t Berdusk days away?” I asked, before realizing that I actually had no idea where we were.

My father’s mouth tweaked at my question, “You recall how you came here through a portal, yes?”

I gave him a curt nod, “Yes, yes I remember. Then let’s just skip the meal and be done.” I pushed the food away from me and folded my arms indignantly. I was ready to be out of my father’s direct gaze.

He waited to answer before giving a short nod. “Very well. I will inform the hunters.”

“How is it that the Hunters work for you?” I asked. I knew it was unlikely that I would get an honest answer, but I had to at least try.

“The Hunters and I have a common goal, or shall I say, a common enemy.” He said, he dabbed a napkin across his lips before rising to his feet. “As long as our goals remain the same, we hold a partnership with each other that requires no monetary cost.”

“I see.” I said. 

“Shall we, then?” He asked, gesturing to the door out of the kitchen.

I said nothing, but led us out through the door. I spared a glance down to see if I caught the vial on my father’s person, but as I suspected, it would not be so easy to find.

“Looking for something?” My father asked. His eyes were narrowed.

I met them with a vacant expression. “Nothing of real interest.”

We followed the path back down the stairs to the underground maze of caverns and tunnels. It was confusing, and we were met with a cloaked Hunter who led us through in torchlight to the same large cavernous room. There were a trio of Hunters already in the room, drawing symbols within a circle on the ground. 

We watched silently as the portal opened like a maw in the middle of the air, centered above the magic ring. The space within was blurred and unfocused and shimmered like water, but revealing a landscape much different than the current dank room we were in.. It was a curious form of magic, but also fascinating. 

My father once again let me take the lead and I stepped through with him behind me. I felt a rush of vertigo that time and I forced my eyes shut as I waited for the sensation to pass. When I opened my eyes, we were standing in the Great Hall of Berdusk.

“Easy enough.” My father announced, smiling congenially as the portal winked closed behind us.

Business resumed almost immediately and a guard rushed towards us from the edge of the room. “Your Grace, a message for you.”

It was nothing more than a scrap of paper. I tried to read from the corner of my eye, I had only the chance to read a few words before my father slipped the paper into his robes.

Your Commander is not loyal. 

“Hmmm, a beautiful morning indeed.” My father breathed out. He looked down at me with a grim smile, “Shall we go meet your fiance?”

“I’d actually like to freshen up first.” I said, before clearing my throat, “I…I’d like to be looking my best.”

He nodded, “Of course. On your way, then, try to be quick, son.”

I bowed my head solemnly. “I know what is expected of me.” I turned and began the descent down the stairs and out of the room. 

As I stepped out I quickened my pace and raced towards my quarters, but not before a hand grabbed me and pulled me into a small hallway.

“What are you doing here?” Selhar’s face was panic-stricken and frantic. “Where is he?”

“Selhar?” I asked. “What’s going on?”

He shook his head, “No, you’re not supposed to be back here. He promised me he would keep you safe.”

“You’re not making any sense.” I said, and I grabbed his shoulders, trying to still his shaking body. “Selhar, what are you talking about?”

“Your…your partner. The orc. He promised me that he would try to keep you safe. I believed him. Why are you back?” 

I had never seen such extreme emotion on his face in a long time. Not since our mother’s passing, and I felt the jump in my own heartbeat as I looked back at him. “He…He’s.” I sighed. “I don’t know where he is, Selhar. I think father has him.”

“Where?” 

I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

“I hate him.” Selhar said, his voice came out like a hiss. “I hate him so much.”

The hallway was somber as I let my brother’s words hang between us. My mother and I had failed to protect him from the cruelties of Duke Hilmar, and the guilt that I didn’t even know what my brother had been going through suddenly overwhelmed me. This wasn’t just about me and Drun. This conflict ran much, much deeper.

“Listen, Selhar.” My voice was soft, “I’m not giving up yet.”

He shook his head,  “But he’s brought you back here twice. You won’t be able to leave now.”

I nodded, “I know. But maybe you can help me?”

His eyes widened. “How?”

“I need you to get in touch with Commander Gideon. Tell him that father suspects him of treason. If he can, I need to meet with him as soon as possible.”

“Is that all?” He asked.

I thought for a moment, then continued. “I think father has something that belongs to me. A glass vial with red liquid inside. If you can find it somehow, I need that back. And don’t let the Duke find out.”

He nodded, a small wry smile formed on his face. “I’m the middle child, Altan, father doesn’t pay attention to me unless he’s mad at me. It will be easy.”

“He’s waiting for me. I have to meet my…fiance” We both grimaced at that. “I’ll find you after that.”

He nodded and turned to go.

“Selhar.” I said as he was about to leave. “I’m sorry for whatever he’s done to you.”

He shook his head, “It doesn’t matter if we’re able to stop him.” And then he turned to go. 

There were a set of guards outside my room as I approached it. I felt the small pit in my stomach tighten as I approached them. 

“I assume you were sent by my father?”

They nodded. 

I rolled my eyes and forced my most petulant voice.. “I won’t meet with anyone until I am clean from my travels. Would you be kind enough to get someone to start my bath?”

“Young lord…” One of them began.

“Please.” I bemoaned. “And if I come out of here with you both still here, I’m reporting you to my father, he’s waiting on me, which means he’s waiting on you.”

I didn’t wait for an answer and strode into my room where everything was as exactly as I had left it. Strange to believe that it had not even been a week since I had left. So much had happened. I hoped my whining was good enough to get rid of the guards at my door. And I hoped that Commander Gideon would arrive in time for him to not be seen by them.

I paced, thinking over everything. 

This was what I knew at that point.

The first, that my father had an arrangement with the Red Hunters that meant they had a mutual goal that enabled them to work together so long as that mutual goal remained. I didn’t know what that goal was, but perhaps if I could find out what it was, I could use that to my advantage.

Secondly, I knew Drunrag was being held somewhere as leverage for me to obey and listen to my father and I also believed he possessed the vial as added leverage, but my father was holding that information from me until absolutely necessary should I misbehave again.

Third, there were spies within the Great Hall who had informed my father of Commander Gideon as an enemy to my father’s goals. I wasn’t certain if these spies were part of the deal with the Red Hunters, or separate, but it was important to note that I couldn’t trust anyone at this point besides Gideon, Doxxah, and Selhar.

Lastly, a portion of my father’s debt relied on me uniting with Lady Allara. The consequences of not doing so were unclear, and I also didn’t know if it played into the arrangement with the Red Hunters. But I could only hope that it was the case, since all of the details seemed so close together.

I didn’t know how to connect all of the details yet. I was never the most clever, though the gods know I tried to be. I only knew that I had multiple things I needed to see happen before Drunrag and I could be together again.

The first, was to prevent Commander Gideon from being arrested or blamed for treason and perhaps reveal the moles within the guards’ ranks. He was my greatest asset and ally with influence and rank.

Second, my arranged marriage had to be stopped and if I was lucky, I could incite problems with deals my father has with the Red Hunters that would help with my third, and perhaps most important goal which was to stop whatever other plans my father has. I needed to prevent him from ever doing something like this ever again. Perhaps it was time the Hilmar name faced the consequences and no longer be in power.

I was deep in thought when I heard a knock at the door.

My heart leapt the same time I sprung to my feet and raced for the door. I cracked it open and let out a breath when I saw the towering figure of Commander Gideon . There was no sign of anyone else.

“Quick. Inside.” I said and released the door.

The Commander slid into the room, an impassive look on his face. I was about to close the door when Selhar grabbed the door and followed in. “Not without me.” He said quietly, but the determination in his voice was not to be dismissed.

“Did anyone see you?” I asked.

They both shook their heads.

“We don’t have much time. My father is about to have guards on me again and I don’t know if we’ll have another chance like this.”

“I understand the Duke has marked me as untrustworthy.” Gideon said. “Much gratitude to you for warning me. I am in your debt.”

I bowed my head, “You are my ally, and selfishly I must admit I cannot do this without you.” I turned to Selhar, “Either of you.”

“Where is the young orc?” The Commander asked.

“Somewhere imprisoned by my father. I believe with the Red Hunters? I do not know the location, only that is resides underground.”

“Red Hunters?” The Commander and Selhar exchanged glances at one another, eyes wide. “Gods helps us.”

“Commander, I believe you need to disappear before you are intercepted by the Duke.” It was unfamiliar to me to be so commanding to another, but the commander eye’s were locked with me, listening intently. “I don’t know what I’m doing, so I trust you to guide me.”

“Ask me what you wish, young lord and it will be so.”

Selhar nodded, “And me.”

I looked between them and let out a sigh. “If I only I knew.”

“Do you have a plan?” Selhar asked.

“Only the beginnings of one.” I said. “I don’t know if it will work. But it’s the only plan I have left.”

Want to be updated on new chapters? DM me to be added to the tag list!

@eltrolodecadadia

@sizzlinghideoutcoffee

@carjis

[curiousmons]

There are all these wonderfully deadly monsters that if I ever came across one I'd be so happy that I wouldn't care if I died died or died from over(sexual)stimulation

[furrbbyx]

You ever watch something so poorly written, yet entralling, that it makes you question your taste in romance stories?

[ashendalia]

Holy mother of God I was having a hell of a dream before my alarm went off

[the-nasti-files]

Love to Get Done

Day 2

Word Count: 13215

🔴MATURE CONTENT WARNING🔴

Series Masterlist

I wake far more comfortably than usual—and bolt upright when I realize I'm draped across Thrall’s warm chest.

He jolts awake at the movement, eyes hazy with sleep as he blinks up at you, trying to make sense of the situation.

Then he remembers.

He remembers holding you. How right it felt. How close you were, close enough for him to breathe in the scent of your hair. Looking up at you now, still sleepy, he can’t help but smile. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

My cheeks flush. “Good morning,” I mumble.

Thrall chuckles softly, brushing my cheek again. He stretches, gently maneuvering me until I’m sitting between his legs.

“I… Um… we? We should get moving. Probably.” Very smooth, Annora.

He smiles, clearly amused. “Yeah, probably.” His fingers linger as he tucks another strand back into your braid. He doesn’t want to move. Not yet. Not with you here, nestled between his thighs.

My anxiety spikes and I all but leap out of his lap, hands fluttering as I shove things back into my pack.

His hand hovers midair for a moment after I move. A small pang of disappointment hits him before he shakes it off and starts packing, watching with quiet attention.

I'm back into my cloak, pack strapped and settled in record time, mind a tumbling mess of thoughts and unknown emotions. I step out of the shelter, trying not to stare as he ducks out, once again towering above me.

You look as adorable as ever, a little bundle of a person, standing there awkwardly fiddling with your hands. He gives you a small smile as he slings his bag over his shoulder.

My cheeks flame again, and I force myself to focus, putting the old oak tree back to rights. The only evidence of us being here is the disturbed snow.

Thrall watches in silence, admiring how gently you treat the earth. “All set, little one?” he asks.

“Yep!” My voice is too chipper. What is your actual problem!?

His eyes narrow, sensing something off, hand settling gently on my shoulder. “You alright?”

I jump. “Yes! Totally great!”

He laughs softly. “Yeah, you look super calm.”

“Why wouldn’t I be calm?” I snap, starting toward the road.

He easily keeps pace, longer strides effortlessly catching up. “You’re practically vibrating. You’ve got rabbit-being-chased energy.”

My mouth opens, and quickly snaps shut. He's not wrong, the jerk. "Just anxious to get moving!"

He raises an eyebrow. “Is it me that’s making you anxious?” A smirk is playing around his lips as he looks down at you.

“No,” I scoff. “Why would you make me anxious?”

His smirk grows. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the whole snuggling thing last night?”

I stop dead in my tracks, cheeks blazing. “That was just… convenient. Practical. You’re tall, I’m short. It was cold.”

He laughs. “Convenient? It felt like snuggling to me.”

“Wipe that stupid smirk off your face.” I jab a finger toward him—well, as close as I can get with the nearly three-foot height difference—then stomp off through the snow.

His grin widens. “Or what?”

I snap, a branch whipping out and flicking him on the back of the head again.

He pauses, rubbing the spot, raising an eyebrow. “Are you going to take a potshot at me every time I annoy you?”

“Maybe!” I call, spotting the road ahead.

He mutters something under his breath but follows, catching up as I step onto the road.

“Do you know where we’re going, little one?”

“West, for now. This road leads to Rotham. I’ve got business there, then we head south toward Falán.”

He blinks, surprised by the specificity. “Rotham? What kind of business?”

“I need to find a guy.”

Thrall stops. His expression shifts. “A… man?”

“Yes, a man.” I reply, continuing down the road, completely oblivious to the hint of something unpleasant in his tone.

He lets out a disgruntled grunt, jogging to catch up with you.

I glance back at his scowl. “What’s your problem now?”

"A man? You're going to find a man in Rotham? What, specifically, are you going to him for?" He asks, not even bothering to disguise the bitter edge in his voice.

“I need his help. Not that it’s any of your business.” His sudden bout of anger is rankling.

Thrall’s jaw tightens. “You need help from a man. Convenient.” 

My hands go to my hips. “What’s the issue here?”

He lets out a bitter laugh. “The issue is you’re running off to see some other man.” He snaps, his arms crossing over his chest.

“What in the seven hells is that supposed to mean?”

"It means that I don't like the idea of you meeting up with some other man." He says firmly, trying, and failing, to keep a level head.

I throw my hands up in exasperation, turning on my heel to keep walking. “You keep saying ‘other man’ like I’m supposed to know what that means.” 

He grabs my shoulder, turning me to face him. “What will it take to get it through that pretty little head of yours what I mean?”

I stare at him, stunned, my hands balling into fists. “You’ve done nothing but snap at me! I don’t even know why you’re mad! What is your actual problem?”

"You want to know my problem? My problem is that you're so damn oblivious!" He snaps.

I let out a huff of disbelief, my heart speeding up as he stares down at me. "Oblivious to what? What, exactly, is it you think I don't understand? What, specifically, is my obliviousness affecting?" I jab a finger into his chest.

His eyes dart down to your finger, still pressed into his chest, before he looks back at you. His voice is quieter, but still irritated. "You're oblivious to the fact that I don't want you to meet up with any. Other. MEN!"

"What? Why do you care who I meet? Also, why do you think you get to dictate what I do, hmm?"

Thrall's fingers dig into your shoulder as he stares down at you, his expression almost pained. 

“Because the thought of you with someone else—it drives me insane.” He grits through his clenched teeth.

My eyebrows are nearly in my hairline. "You've got about 2 seconds before I hit you with my staff."

He scoffs. “You're going to hit me with your stick?”

I narrow my eyes. “Oh, absolutely. I doubt it'll really cause any real damage, but at least it will hopefully knock the stupid out of you!"

He steps closer, towering. “You really aren’t that smart, are you?”

That one stings. Deep. My hand tightens on my staff, and instead of hitting him—I pull the earth from under his feet and drop him into a hole. Thrall hits the ground with a dull thud, eyes wide with surprise. I turn again, walking away in silence, wondering to myself why that hurt so badly.

“What—? Hey! Wait a damn minute!”

I keep walking. Jaw set. Heart aching.

Thrall scrambles out of the pit, covered in dirt and fuming. “That was uncalled for! You little—” He stomps after me, grabs my arm, and spins me to face him. “You can’t just do that!”

I yelp, heart pounding with anger and something else I can’t name. Tears well in my eyes, but I try to blink them away, not wanting to cry right now, but struggling to do so as I try to yank free. “Why not? I’m too stupid to do anything else!”

His face falls, guilt cutting through his anger. His grip softens, fingers sliding down until he links them with yours. "That's not what I meant. You're not stupid. I was just... angry."

I stare down at our joined hands, jaw tight as I clench my teeth. "Anger isn't an excuse."

Thrall sighs, rough and frustrated. His other hand moves under my chin, tilting my face up. His expression softens—nearly pleading. "I..." He swallows hard. "I didn’t realize how much the thought of you meeting another man would bother me... until you said it. And I took it out on you. I was an ass. I’m sorry."

The fire from before hasn’t gone, just cooled to a simmer. "You... Why does it bother you? It has nothing to do with you. Who I see shouldn’t matter."

Thrall shakes his head, fingers tipping my face higher. His voice is low, raw. “It does matter to me. I don’t want you around anyone else. I want you to be with me.”

I blink up at him, stunned into silence. I've spent my entire life trying to be good enough for other people, meeting other people's expectations, and now here's this man, this near-complete stranger, standing here, telling me this. Telling me he wants me to be with him. 

It takes a moment to find my voice.

"With... you?"

His hand shifts to cup my cheek, thumb brushing over my skin. His gaze burns, part desire, part fear.

Thrall, for once in his life, takes a leap. 

"Yes. With me. Not just traveling together. I want you."

I flush, heat blooming across my cheeks under his touch. My heart lifts—light, uncertain. "But why? You don’t even know me."

His thumb stills, voice getting softer. "I know enough. You’re strong. Kind. Brave. Stubborn. Loyal. Smart." He leans in, voice barely above a whisper. "And you’re gorgeous. I like being around you. That’s all I need to know."

My grip on my staff tightens. I feel dizzy—lightheaded, drunk on his words, stepping closer without thinking. "You like being around me?" My voice is soft.

Thrall lets out a quiet laugh, his thumb resuming its path across my cheek. "Is that so hard to believe? You’re a smart, beautiful woman. Of course I do. Who wouldn’t?"

"Plenty. My family included," I murmur. I’m still half-expecting this to be some cruel joke.

Thrall pulls me a little closer, brushing my cheek again. "Then your family has terrible taste."

I let out a little puff of laughter. "You have no idea."

His smile widens. “Oh, yeah? Guess you’ll have to tell me more.”

I cringe, despite myself. “They’re a mess and a half.”

He chuckles, his hand dropping to rest gently on my shoulder. “I’d love to hear all about it.”

I hum, actively trying not to think about what I've been running from. “There are a million things I’d rather talk about.” I glance up at him. “But we do need to get moving.”

His fingers slide down my arm, loosely circling my wrist. “All right. Another time. Let’s go.”

As we walk, his hand still holds my wrist, my whole body feels strangely warm. Thoughts refusing to settle. "How much farther to Rotham do you think?" I ask, needing something normal.

Thrall’s eyes stay on the path, but his thumb brushes the inside of my wrist. "At least two days at this pace. I could carry you. We’d go faster."

I blink at him. "Carry... me?" The thought sends a shock through me and my pulse jumps.

Thrall feels it—feels you. His voice stays even, but I can hear the edge. “I’m not saying you’re slow. I’m just... bigger. I walk faster. You on my back would speed things up.”

"You want to strap me to your back like a baby," I say flatly, my mother’s voice echoing in my head at the impropriety of it.

He smirks. “Basically.”

My mind is a whirlwind. I know my parents would have deployed some kind of search after I didn't return from my 'week at the lake house' and if we could gain some more time...

"Okay," I sigh.

He seems genuinely surprised. “Good. Come here.”

My pulse pounds. This is stupid. I hardly know him. And yet...

He doesn’t feel like a stranger anymore. He feels... safe.

I face him again, eyes raking over his build. He's suddenly very... solid.

"Okay," I repeat, a little breathless.

His smirk grows at my tone, placing his hands on my waist. “Ready?”

"As I’ll ever be," I mutter.

He lifts me smoothly over his shoulder, settling me against his back. His hands slide to my thighs, adjusting me higher. “All good?” His voice rumbles low.

I nod. "Y–yes." His chuckle vibrates through me as he slings his pack over us both, anchoring me to him. His hands rest firmly on my thighs. He’s careful... but I can feel him.

Every inch of him.

Get it together, Annora!!

I grip the straps of his pack, heart thudding. His body is solid and warm, his hands like fire through my skirts. "Alright, I’m ready."

Thrall lets out the breath he was holding, the feeling of you against him more than he could have ever imagined. His head spins, your scent assaulting his nose, your thighs in his hands, and your entire body pressed against him. His jaw clenches as he starts walking. “Just hang on tight like a good girl.”

Oh gods Annora, you've got to relax.

I inhale sharply, trying to relax. But his voice... the grip on my legs...

My cheeks flush all over again.

He walks steady and sure, long strides eating up the distance. It's a strange, intimate situation we find ourselves in, his hands on my thighs, my legs around his waist, my chest pressing against his back. 

I'm not sure how long it takes for my body to finally start relaxing, the steady roll of his gait and the heat from his body staving off the winter chill slowly convincing my mind that this is ok.

He feels it—feels the moment where the tension drains from me, his fingers continuing to rub slow circles on my thighs.

Snow crunches beneath us. Wind rustles the trees.

“Can I braid your hair?”

Thrall laughs, caught off guard. “Pardon?”

My brain finally catches up with my mouth. "You keep having to toss it out of your face. It’s coming loose."

He glances at the wild black strands falling from the tie. “Oh. Yeah. Sure. If you want to.”

A small smile dances across my face, my fingers itching to feel his hair. "Thank you." I shift on his back, leaning forward so I can reach. My hands go up, gently untangling the leather tie that holds back his mass of black hair.

My fingers comb through his loose curls, teasing out knots. “Do all orcs keep their hair long?” I ask, trying not to tug too hard on a particularly stubborn tangle.

His breath catches, and he tries to hide the reaction, but his body betrays him. Clearing his throat, he answers, “Uh… yes. Long hair is a sign of honor. Of a warrior.” A pink flush colors his cheeks.

I hum, separating a section near his temple. “Yours is quite long. What does that say about you?”

He blushes deeper, struggling to keep composed. “It means… I’m a good warrior. Strong. Fierce. Fearsome…” He falters, clearly trying not to sound boastful.

I hum again, thoughtful as I work the first small braid. "What if you were not so fearsome?

He swallows, caught off guard again. “What do you mean?”

I move to the other side, fingers combing another section. “If you weren’t a capable warrior, what would you do with your hair?”

His breath hitches. “No one’s ever asked me that,” he murmurs. “I haven’t thought about it.”

“Would you cut it? Or be forced to?”

The idea makes him shudder. “Gods, I’d dread that day. I’d only cut it under extreme circumstances.”

“Can I ask…” I hesitate, unsure if it’s too much to ask as my fingers keep working.

He stills, breath caught, hands tightening on my thighs. “Ask what?” His voice is low.

“What would be extreme enough to make you cut it?”

He shivers. The answer is simple, but it’s not something that orcs tend to talk about. Still, he wants to tell me.

“Loyalty,” he says simply.

My brows furrow. “Loyalty? How so?”

Thrall takes a deep breath, trying to put words to the thoughts in his head. It's hard, the feel of your legs still straddling his waist, the soft press of your chest against his back, your fingers in his hair, and the scent of you surrounding him. 

“Loyalty and honor are everything. We’re loyal to our clan, our…” He stops, voice caught.

I notice the pause, his grip on my thighs tightening, pulse pounding, almost matching my own. I continue braiding his hair, trying not to get distracted by the feel of his big hands. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

He draws a breath, words nearly spilling out. His hands grip tighter—desperate, not harsh. “It is the highest honor to be loyal to your…” He swallows, voice trembling. “To your mate.”

My heart skips. I hadn’t expected that. I finish the third braid, trying to keep my hands steady. “Mate as in… a spouse?”

“Yes,” he whispers. “A partner. For life.”

I undo the braid I messed up and try again. “So, if you were unfaithful… you’d cut your hair?”

“Yes,” he breathes. “If a male betrays his mate, he’s unworthy. The hair must be shorn.”

I can feel his hand tremble on my thigh as he speaks, his body practically vibrating with emotion. I keep braiding, my fingers working on autopilot, trying to just focus on the task instead of the things he's saying. “Does… that happen often?”

He scoffs, some of his earlier bravado returning. “No. Orcs are loyal. It’s why many stay untethered for years.”

I move on to the fifth braid. “Is that why you wander? To stay untethered?”

"Partly," he says, his voice a bit hoarse, "Partly because I enjoy traveling, seeing new places, experiencing new things. But..." His grip on your thighs tightens, almost unconsciously.

“But?” I prompt, fingers working, pulse racing.

He swallows, overwhelmed. “But… I think… I’ve also been looking. For my mate.”

Oh.

The words hit me somewhere deep in my chest, a fluttering feeling I've never experienced. My hands keep moving, but my mind spins. “For your… mate?” My voice is soft.

Strong hands tighten around your thigh, the touch more intimate than it has any right to be. “Yes. I’ve yet to find her.”

There it is again—that flutter. I steady my fingers. “But you haven’t given up?”

He exhales, shaky. “I never will. I feel her in my bones. She’s out there. Somewhere.”

With six braids done—three on each side—I begin weaving them together, tying them at the back with the leather strip. “There,” I murmur. “All done.”

He lets out a breath, body tense beneath me. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I reply softly, settling myself back down again, my arms coming around his neck as I get more comfortable.

He shivers at the contact, his grip on my thigh firm, almost protective. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

"What... what do you want, from life?"

My cheek comes to rest against his back as I think. “To study the world. Learn the earth. Understand why I’m so connected to it.”

He hums, the sound low. “That’s it? Just to learn?”

“Yes. To grow, share knowledge, see what might disappear forever. To learn as much about the world as I can before others can destroy it."

A sharp pang passes through him. The thought of you alone out there stirs something primal. “And you’d do that alone?” he asks, voice rough.

“I don’t think anyone wants to watch me crawl around in the dirt, talking to mosses.” My tone is light, but the sadness lingers.

His grip tightens. “There are some who’d find that delightful.”

His words almost make me laugh. The thought of someone actually wanting to spend their life doing what I love is... foreign. “Really? I doubt anyone finds that fun.”

“Someone would. Someone who sees your passion as beautiful.”

I huff. “That’s ridiculous. No one finds me—or my love of getting my hands dirty—attractive.”

His voice lowers. “It’s not ridiculous. It’s inevitable. Everyone is attractive to someone. No one is truly unlovable.”

“That’s…” I shake my head with a faint laugh. “Incredibly optimistic of you, Thrall.”

He shivers at the sound of his name. “It’s the truth. There’s nothing I’ve found unattractive about you.”

“You’ve only known me for a moment.” I try to deflect, to sound unaffected.

He hears it anyway—the tremor. He grins, hand squeezing my thigh. “You underestimate me. I’m observant.”

I need to change the subject. “What are you hoping for? When you find your mate?”

Thrall’s hand on your thigh tightens again, your body against his back driving him mad.

“That’s a loaded question,” he says, voice rough, the word mate sending a jolt through him.

“Is it a secret?” I tease, trying to ease the tension.

His grip tightens—not painfully, but enough. His mind reels. “No. It’s not a secret,” he growls, more than he means to.

“Oh?” I murmur, my tone soft. “Sounds like you’re not sure if you’re ready to answer.”

His body tenses. These desires have long been buried and unspoken. He draws in a breath, trying to steady himself. “No. I... I know what I want.”

“And what do you want?” I ask gently, his trembling hand still resting on my thigh.

Thrall’s breath shudders. The words build like pressure behind a dam. Can I say this?

He breathes again, then speaks.

“I want someone intelligent. Strong in spirit. Someone who challenges me, keeps me sharp. Kind and gentle... but fierce when provoked. Someone worthy of my loyalty—of my affection.”

My heart pounds. Hearing him say all this—it's surreal.

“Someone... beautiful,” he continues, voice low. “Inside and out. Whose scent drives me wild. Whose touch sets my blood on fire. I want someone soft but strong. Fierce and wild. A partner who balances me. Someone I can build a life with. A family.”

He hesitates.

“What else?” I whisper.

His resolve breaks. His hand grips my thigh, almost painfully. “I just want my mate,” he says, voice thick with feeling. “I need her. To be wrapped in her. Claimed and claiming. Possessed and possessing. I want to make her mine. In. Every. Way.”

My heart hammers, dizzy with the force of his words. It’s overwhelming—addictive. I steady myself, breath catching. “Those are... very specific things to want.”

He huffs a shaky laugh, more nerves than humor. “Yes. They are.”

“Is that... okay? To want those things?” he asks suddenly, almost uncertain.

"I... I don't see why not. It's probably better to know what you desire."

Relief washes over him. He doesn’t loosen his grip, but it softens. His next question comes out before he can even think about it. "What do you desire?"

A silence stretches and my heart tugs. “I’ve never had the chance to think about it,” I admit. “My whole life was preparing to marry Walden.” The name tastes like ash in my mouth.

Thrall’s jaw tightens, his grip twitching. “Your arranged marriage,” he says, voice flat.

“Yes.” I sigh. “I only know what I don’t desire, I guess.”

He takes a deep breath in an effort to compose himself, to quiet the sudden rage. “Well, what don’t you desire?” he asks, his voice softer.

"I don't want to sit quietly by as my life is dictated for me, where my only use is running the house and having as many children as physically possible until I drop dead from exhaustion." The words are laced with a long held hatred for the life I was groomed for.

Thrall’s chest aches. He wants to pull you into him and never let go. Still, he listens.

“I’m... not even sure I know who I am most days,” I admit softly.

He swallows hard. “What do you mean?”

A rueful laugh slips out, coating my mouth like oil. "I had the misfortune of being born a girl and an only child. My only use is to be traded to the highest bidder, furthering my family's interests. My entire life has been in preparation for that purpose, to be a picturesque trophy, paraded around. Anything I desired outside of that goal was shut down and locked away."

Thrall clenched his jaw so hard he felt like his teeth would shatter. The idea of anyone doing that to you makes his vision blur with rage. “Did... did you accept it as fate?”

"It's all I've ever known." I admit.

He feels like something inside him is breaking. “Do you still plan to marry him? Walden?” His voice is sharp.

“Gods, no! I don’t plan on going back. Ever.”

The relief is immediate and overwhelming. “Why not?”

“Marry that pasty, doughy, sniveling rat? I’d rather cut off my own foot.”

Thrall barks a surprised laugh. His grip eases slightly, still anchored to me. “He sounds pathetic.”

“Pathetic doesn’t even begin to cover it. He rolls over for his daddy anytime he asks and can’t keep his disgusting hands to himself.”

Rage surges in Thrall’s chest. “He’s touched you?” His voice is a low growl.

“Yes.” One word, saturated with loathing. “He thinks violence is love.”

Thrall’s blood boils. “How many times?” he grits out.

“I don’t even know. He’s been cruel since we were children. But it was always my fault. I was ‘too pretty.’ He ‘couldn’t help himself.’”

Thrall’s control is slipping. He wants to find this worm and tear him apart. “Your father didn’t stop him?”

"Oh, he wouldn't dare jeopardize the agreement. He has too much at stake."

Thrall trembles with fury. “So no one stopped it? Not even you?”

There's a long moment of silence before I can respond. “I tried once.” My voice is paper-thin, barely a whisper.

Thrall's entire body has gone numb. The idea of you fighting... and failing... to protect yourself, making him want to go into a blind rage. “What happened?”

Silence again as I cling to the warmth of his body, grounding myself.

“He—” I choke on the memory. “He beat me. With a brass candlestick. Broke my collarbone. And my nose.”

Thrall gasps. The world narrows to red.

“He... beat—” The words stick in his throat.

My arms around his neck tighten as I bury my face in his shoulder.

Thrall feels the heat of your skin against his, the weight of your words still ringing in his ears. The feeling only deepens as you tuck yourself closer.

He wants to be your safe place—your shelter. His body goes rigid, arms tightening around you. There are no words left in him, no thoughts beyond one primal instinct: protect.

“Maybe we should stop for lunch,” I murmur against his shoulder.

His mind is still spinning, hands trembling with the overwhelming urge to shield you from the world. But... you’re right. “Yeah,” he replies, voice barely a whisper.

Heavy feet carry you back into the trees, finding a small, clear area to set you gently back on the ground. “Stay there,” he instructs, hand trailing down your arm like he doesn’t want to let go.

Thrall turns away, retreating toward the treeline. His mind is reeling—trapped in the memory of what you told him, burning with the need to hunt that man down and make sure you’re never hurt again. He takes several deep breaths, trying to bring himself under control.

But the thought of you enduring that pain alone twists something in him.

He wants to burn the world down as revenge.

No one will hurt you again.

I watch him go, the rage stiff in his shoulders. It's maybe a little silly, but seeing him feel so strongly—it stirs something warm inside my heart. I tug my staff free from the pack and walk through the powdery snow, coaxing a blackberry bramble to flower and fruit despite the cold.

The rustle of your movement catches Thrall’s attention. He watches, transfixed, as you tend the plant. There’s something almost intimate in the way you touch it—gentle, reverent.

His heart aches with a sudden, fierce longing.

He’s still watching when a voice calls out behind him.

“Thrall.”

His stomach drops. That voice—deep, familiar, gruff—he hasn’t heard it in years, but he’d know it anywhere.

He exhales slowly, bracing himself, and turns.

Narek stands before him, unchanged from the last time they met. “Long time no see, little brother.”

Thrall can feel his heart hammering in his chest as he looks at his brother. It's been years, but the feeling of seeing him is the same. Thrall tries to steady himself. No weakness.

“Yeah,” he says, voice flat. “It’s been a while.”

“How long?” Narek drawls, eyes flicking over him with thinly veiled mockery. “Three years? Four? I’ve lost count.”

Thrall knows exactly how long—it’s seared into his bones. But he won’t give Narek the satisfaction. “Long enough.”

Narek’s lip curls in a half-smirk. “I suppose so.” He steps closer, gaze sweeping over Thrall. “You look… healthy.”

The tone sets Thrall on edge. “I am,” he replies tightly, taking a step back. “What are you doing out here, Narek? This isn’t your territory.”

Narek chuckles darkly. “Can’t a brother check in? Make sure his baby brother hasn’t gotten himself killed?”

Thrall’s fists clench. “You never cared before. What changed?”

From behind the bramble, I pop a few berries into my mouth, frowning. He’s been gone awhile. “Thrall?”

Your voice snaps him out of it. He turns his head. “Yeah?”

Narek’s gaze follows, sharpening with interest. “And who’s that?”

A surge of protectiveness rises in Thrall, sharp and sudden. “None of your concern.”

"Thrall?" I call again, pushing through the bushes, pulling up short as I see he's not alone.

Narek blinks, surprised. “Didn’t know you had company, little brother.”

Thrall doesn’t take his eyes off you. “She’s traveling with me,” he says, the edge in his voice unmistakable.

Narek smirks, eyes sliding over you in a way that makes Thrall want to break something. “Is she now?”

I arch a brow, unimpressed. “I’m sorry—who are you?”

“Narek,” he says with a smirk. “Thrall’s older brother.”

I can feel my eyebrows raise, taking in Narek's appearance and attitude. "Ah."

“And what’s your name, little lady?” His tone is oozing condescension.

The way he looks me over makes me feel slimy, and I can't help a slight grimace. "Annora."

Narek grins wider. “Annora, huh? Pretty name for a pretty little thing like you.”

I don't like the way his voice purrs as he says ‘pretty little thing’ and I take a subtle step backwards. "Thank you."

He leans in, expression almost gleeful. “You look familiar.”

“I’m quite sure we’ve never met.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” He chuckles. “But I’ve seen your face before. Somewhere.”

My heart plummets.

There's no way he could know who I am, right?

“How interesting.”

He steps closer, eyes sharp. “Very interesting, little lady.”

“I don’t like your tone.”

Narek lets out another bark of laughter, the sound sharp and mocking. “And I don’t much care.” He retorts, taking another step closer, invading your personal space.

I peer around him to look at Thrall. "You're really related to this jackass?"

“Unfortunately,” Thrall growls.

Narek barks another laugh, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Don't act so put out, little brother. We're not all blessed with my charm."

"Right. Not everyone is lucky enough to be arrogant, condescending, and insufferable." He mutters.

Narek lets out a mocking gasp, a hand to his chest. "Me? Arrogant, condescending, and insufferable? I am appalled, brother. Absolutely appalled."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Would egomaniacal, narcissistic, and pompous work better?"

"I think all of those words suit." I interject. 

Narek's jaw clenches tighter, his eyes darkening dangerously. "You think you're clever, don't you?"

"Well, I'm guessing you don't even know what half of those words mean, so yeah. I'd consider myself clever."

"Watch yourself, little girl."

I bark out a laugh. "Men are so easy to rile up."

Narek's jaw tightens almost dangerously, his eyes going almost black. "You'd best watch that mouth of yours."

"Or what?" I scoff.

"I'll shut it for you."

 "Please, do try."

 Narek's hand twitches, his eyes flaring. "Don't test me, girl."

"Do you mind if I take care of this?" I call over to Thrall.

 A hint of a smile twitches across Thrall's lips. "Not at all."

"Seriously? You're going to let this little wench fight your battles for you?"

"Wench? How unoriginal." His scream of surprise is incredibly satisfying as a branch wraps around his ankle, hoisting him up, leaving him dangling in the air.

He lets out a string of swearing, his voice practically spitting venom. "Let me down, you little harpy!!"

"Well, harpy is certainly more inventive!"

“I’ll show you inventive, you witch!”

“Typical,” I mutter as he turns purple.

Narek’s body is swinging through the air as he tries to claw at the wood strangling his ankle. “I’ll have your head for this, you little bitch!”

"Ahh, there it is." I nod. "Bitch is such a classic."

"I'm going to rip you apart!!" He bellows, his hands forming into tight fists. “You stupid whore!! Put me down!! RIGHT NOW!!!!"

Thrall’s hands clench into tight fists, a growl escaping his throat. "You don't get to talk to her like that." His voice is low, menacing, and almost unrecognizable.

Narek whips his head toward him. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Oh, clearly you need someone to,” Thrall snaps. “You’re acting like a child!” he continues, stepping in close.

“And you’re a lapdog!” Narek spits.

Rage flares in Thrall’s eyes. “You will not speak to me like that.”

“I’ll speak however I want!”

“Oh, really?”

They are both so preoccupied with their machismo stand off that neither of them notice my approach, Thrall nearly jumping out of his skin when I run my hand down his wrist, easing his clenched fist open. His body almost instinctively relaxes from the brief contact. “He’s not worth it.”

Narek groans. “For the love of—cut it out, will you?”

Thrall doesn’t even look at him, gaze fixed on your hand in his. “Shut up, jackass.”

Narek scoffs. “You just want that reward money for yourself, huh?”

Thrall’s head snaps up. “What are you talking about?”

He rolls his eyes, giving Thrall an overly patient look. "Come on. You honestly expect me to believe you haven't heard about the massive manhunt for the little duchess who has gone missing?"

My face pales, body freezing.

No.

“Oh? Something wrong, sweetheart?” Narek taunts.

No, no, no, no, no…

A cruel smile spreads across his face. "Oh, did you think no one knew who you were?" His voice is almost dripping with the sick satisfaction of knowing.

My heart is pounding so hard that I'm surprised I can still stand, my breathing coming in short, ragged gasps. I can't help taking a step back, my mind racing in a thousand different directions.

“You’re a duchess,” Narek says with a sneer. “Did you really think the kingdom wouldn’t come looking?”

My head spins, the reality of my situation suddenly slamming into me like a physical blow. I knew it was only a matter of time, but hearing it aloud now? Hearing him say it?

My feet are itching to run, but my hand is still firmly in Thrall’s.

“What is he talking about?” he asks quietly.

"Your father is offering a reward for your return. I'm sure you can imagine how furious he is at the disappearance of his prized little princess-to-be." He lets out a mocking huff.

A sickening feeling drops in my stomach at the thought of my father. I knew they would look for me, but to hear that he was offering a reward for my return?

Narek turns smug eyes on his brother. “Oh, you didn’t know?” he mocks. “She’s the one everyone’s looking for.”

Thrall stares at you, shock written all over his face. “What?”

Narek laughs, a cruel mix of glee and mockery on his face. "You're traveling with the daughter of the Duke of Althorn! Engaged to the Crown Prince of the Northern Kingdom! Didn’t you know?"

He pauses, feigning surprise. "She didn’t tell you who she really is?"

Thrall goes still, his expression slack with shock. He stares at you, eyes wide, confusion and disbelief written across his face.

My hand is still in his, but his grip has gone limp. He looks like he's seen a ghost. The tears come hard and fast. "I'm sorry," I choke out. "I didn’t... I didn’t want you to look at me differently."

Thrall’s mind spins, his brother’s words echoing in his head as he sees the fear in your eyes. He opens and closes his mouth, utterly thrown.

Narek’s grin widens like he’s won something. "Of course she didn’t tell you. Why would anyone tell an orc the truth?" He laughs, each word a dagger.

"What? No!" My voice cracks. "That has nothing to do with this!"

Narek barks another nasty laugh. "You’re an idiot if you think someone like you could ever be worthy of a duchess."

Rage flares in Thrall’s chest, hands curling into fists. "That is enough!" He growls, finally finding his voice.

"Really, brother? You’re going to defend her? After she lied to you?"

Thrall’s voice is glacial. "She had a reason. Why would she trust me when she can't trust the people closest to her?" He snaps, the words coming out before he can even think about it.

My heart stutters.

He’s… defending me?

Narek rolls his eyes, a cruel look crossing his face. "Oh yeah, she has such a rough life. Being the daughter of a man with that much power... she has no clue what it's like to struggle."

“You have no idea what her life has been like.” He hisses.

"And you do?" Narek scoffs.

"I know enough." Thrall’s jaw is tight, fists trembling.

"Thrall?"

His gaze snaps to you like a magnet, face softening instantly, body thrumming with the need to reach for you.

Narek smirks. "Look at the lovesick orc." He sneers, voice dripping with mockery.

He starts to turn around again, but I tug on his hand. "We need to go."

Thrall nods, already in motion, pulling me with him.

Narek’s face goes pale. "What?! You—"

I don’t even look back as the tree branch releases him. Narek crashes to the ground with a loud thud, roots erupting from the dirt, pinning him in place. He thrashes, red with rage, but he’s stuck. Helpless.

Thrall can't help the satisfaction running through him at the sight of his brother pinned and writhing. But when he looks at you, reading every flicker of fear, uncertainty, and heartbreak on your face, he just wants to hold you. To make it stop.

But he doesn't. He holds himself back, forcing the words out. "We need to get you out of here."

I nod numbly, legs like jelly.

Narek roars, "You can’t just leave me here!"

"Oh, I think we can." He calls over his shoulder, squeezing your hand in reassurance.

"When I get out of this, I’ll hunt you down like a dog!"

Thrall looks back at him, cold and unbothered. "You can try."

Narek thrashes harder, shouting, "Damn you both to hell!"

Thrall rolls his eyes, voice low and firm. "We need to go."

I nod silently, the adrenaline from earlier completely gone, my body feeling empty.

Thrall hoists you onto his back without hesitation and starts moving. His arms are iron as the venomous yelling fades as he quickly covers ground.

My hands are clenched against my chest, nails biting into my palms as fear digs its claws into my stomach. "I’m so sorry."

He falters, just for a moment. "You don’t have anything to apologize for."

"I do. I should have told you. I put you in danger." The tears return as guilt tears through me.

"No. Hey. No." His voice softens. "None of this is your fault." He sets you down gently, turning to face you, hands cupping your face, forcing your eyes to meet his. "None of it."

"I have to go home," I whisper, voice hoarse. "It’s the only way to keep you safe. I never should’ve dragged you into this. I’m so sorry."

Thrall's heart shatters, his eyes going wide. "No." He says firmly, his voice a desperate whisper. "No, no, no." His hands are shaking as he cups your face, mind racing. He can't lose you, not now. Not like this.

"Please don’t go. Please."

"You don’t understand. They’ll hurt you. I can’t let that happen."

"And I’m just supposed to let you walk away?"

My hands are fisted in his shirt. "You have to find your mate. You have so much you still want to do. I can't let you get dragged down with me."

Thrall’s grip tightens, his voice desperate. "I’ve found my mate. I found her already, dammit! I found you! You are the only one I will ever want.

I’m frozen in shock.

"Y-you... you can't... you can't mean that."

"I do mean it." He whispers, leaning his forehead against yours. "I have never, ever been more sure of anything in my life. I. Want. You."

My heart is racing, logic cracking under the pressure. "Thrall-" My voice wavers out, my throat closing.

“Don't. Don't say my name like that. I can't-" His voice breaks. The idea of you pushing him away is a physical pain in his chest. "I can't lose you."

"You won't lose me! You'll just find another! Someone better. Someone.... normal." My voice is getting softer, weaker with every word. "Someone who isn't such a wreck." I let out a choked laugh that sounds vaguely like a sob. "I'm a mess, Thrall. A huge, gigantic, walking mess. How could you possibly want me?"

"I don't care. Do you understand that? I don't care about any of it. I don't care if it's complicated or difficult, I want you. You are stuck with me now, and I'm never letting you go. "

I can feel my resolve slipping. "I'll just cause you pain. I'll drag you down. All I do is drag people down-"

"You don’t understand," he growls, verging on anger. "You don't cause me pain. You have no idea what my life was like before you. I was wandering around, aimless, going from one day to the next, just existing for the sake of existing. And then I met you, and suddenly my life was full and rich. You are the most vibrant color in a world that was just a void before."

My will is shattered in the wake of his words. "I-" There's no denying the feelings coursing through me, but I still try, my last shred of strength coming out in a desperate whisper. "I'll just be a hindrance. I'll hold you back."

"No." His voice is fierce. "You’ll be my equal. You’ll stand beside me. That’s the only future I want."

His words hit like a wave, my body collapsing into his arms.

Thrall feels the change, the way you melt into him. He pulls you close, wraps you tight in his arms, burying his face in your hair. "Say yes. Please."

My heart is full to bursting, the feeling of him wrapped around me stealing my breath away.

It's almost like the only word my mind can comprehend now is, "Yes"

He hears it. Feels it, the final piece of his heart slotting into place as he holds you closer. "Say it again."

"Yes. Yes." It’s a promise, a vow, a truth.

He’s trembling, his heart in his throat, and pulls back just enough to search your face "One more time. Please."

"I’m yours."

Something in him snaps and he crashes his lips to yours. The kiss is rough, demanding, and entirely possessive. One of his hands is fisting your hair, holding you in place as he claims your mouth.

It feels as though the earth tilts on its axis, something falling into place in a way that has us both gasping and pulling apart. 

"W-what was that?" I whisper.

Thrall’s breathing hard, eyes dazed. "I don’t know. I’ve never felt anything like it."

My hand rests in the center of his chest. "Do you feel it? Like... like a pull? In your chest?"

He nods, covering your hand with his. "Yeah. Like something locked into place."

"Do you feel like everything just... shifted?"

Thrall lets out a low, rumbling laugh, his hand coming up to cradle your cheek. "Honestly? It feels like I’ve been asleep my whole life. And you just woke me up." He gazes at you, wonder in his eyes. "You’re the piece I didn’t know I was missing."

I feel my chest tighten, tears pricking at the corner of my eyes. No one has ever looked at me like that before, like I was something precious, something to be protected. "I feel the same."

"Then there’s no use fighting it, is there?"

I turn my face to press a kiss against his palm. "I don’t want to anyway."

His breath catches at the contact. "Good. Because I’m not letting you go. Ever."

Both of us startle at the sound of horses and I'm suddenly in his arms as he pulls us off the road and into the woods, tucking us into a thicket as the sound of hooves grows louder. Thrall’s hand finds mine, his squeeze a silent command to stay quiet as he listens, every muscle tense, waiting.

A cart creaks into view. Just a merchant moving along. Still, it’s a jarring reminder. If Narek was telling the truth, I’m not safe—not here.

Thrall exhales, but only some of the tension leaves his body. His eyes stay on the road even as the cart disappears into the distance. When he finally turns back to you, the danger may have passed, but his urgency has not. “It’s not safe anymore. We have to keep moving.”

“I know.” I nod. “We need to get to Rotham.”

“We won’t make it if we don’t keep going.” His hands tighten on your cheeks, gaze burning into yours. “We can’t stop.”

My hands fist in his shirt, pulling him down for one more kiss, fear and desperation clawing at me.

He groans and melts into me, the kiss fierce and consuming, charged with the same desperation I’m trying to push down. His hands cradle my face like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he lets go. When he finally pulls away, his expression is almost feral.

“Promise me something.”

I’m breathless, body humming. “Anything.”

“Promise you won’t do anything reckless. Don’t turn yourself in. Don’t try to sacrifice yourself.”

“I—”

“Don’t.” He cuts you off, voice sharp. “Don’t say something you can’t mean. Just... listen to me.”

The raw fear in his eyes guts me as I take a shaky breath. “I... I’ll try my best.”

“No.” His hands clamp onto your shoulders. “Not just try. Don’t even think about it. I’m not losing you. Not now. Not after finding you.”

Tears prick my eyes. “Thrall, I...”

“No.” His grip tightens. “You don’t get to leave. Do you understand?”

A sob slips out. “Okay,” I whisper. “I promise.”

“No more running.” His voice is steel. “You’re mine now. You don’t get to give up—not on us.”

I nod, trembling. “I understand.”

He kisses you again, softer this time. Full of hope. Full of everything he doesn’t say aloud. His arms wrap around you like armor. “We have to move,” he murmurs against your lips.

I nod again, and within seconds I’m on his back, arms around his neck. He moves quickly through the trees, staying off the road, every step silent and precise.

The silence is making me anxious.

My brain is conjuring up all manner of horrible things that my family would do if they caught me.

“Is Narek really your brother?” I blurt.

Thrall stiffens. “Yes,” he grunts. “Unfortunately.”

“You two are so...”

“Different?” he snorts. “You could say that.”

“More like polar opposites.”

He laughs, low and bitter. “That’s one way of putting it.”

He falls quiet, clearly mulling something over. “He’s always been the wild one. Never wanted to settle. Never wanted...” He trails off, gaze distant.

“Never wanted what?” I ask softly, my chin resting on his shoulder.

“Responsibility,” he says eventually. “He’s only ever looked out for himself.”

“What about your parents?”

Thrall snorts. “Our father’s an elder. Has more sons than he can count now. And our mother...” His voice drops, cold. “She died young. Burned out too fast. Like her candle snuffed before its time. Narek is my only sibling from her.”

My arms tighten around his neck, placing a soft kiss against his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

He sighs, the tension in him easing just a little. “It was a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t make it easier,” I murmur.

He’s silent, letting the truth of your words settle. “No,” he says finally. “It doesn’t.”

After a moment, he shakes off the heaviness. “Enough about me. What about you, little one? What secrets am I going to learn?”

I blink, caught off guard. “Uh... what do you want to know?”

Thrall chuckles dryly. “Where to start? Everything. But let’s keep it simple. What’s your favorite color?”

I laugh. “Green. Always has been.”

“Green, huh?” His brow furrows like he isn’t sure why he asked, only that he needed to know something—anything—about you. “Why?”

“When I was little, my grandmother and I spent every spare moment in the gardens. She married into the noble caste but preferred simple things. We’d spend hours out there—she taught me flower names, uses. My mother hated it. Hated that we’d lie in the grass under that willow tree.”

Thrall slows, his arms hugging you tighter, the image settling heavily in his chest.

“She noticed my magic first. Made me swear to keep it hidden. She knew my father would exploit it.” Bitterness seeps into my voice. “I begged to have her buried under that willow. He agreed just to shut me up.”

Thrall’s heart aches at the pain in your words. “You were close.”

“She was my haven from them,” I whisper. “She’s the reason I prefer going by Annora. It was her name.”

He repeats it softly, like a prayer. “Annora... Even more beautiful knowing who it came from.”

Heat blooms in my cheeks. “What’s your favorite color?”

He lets out a gruff laugh. “Is this a game now? Are we going to trade ridiculous questions?”

I have to chuckle. “Well, we barely know each other.”

“Fair enough.” He smirks. “Definitely not pink.”

I gasp, scandalized. “What’s wrong with pink?”

“It’s... girly.”

I flick his ear. “Colors don’t have genders!”

He flinches, rubbing his ear. “Maybe not, but pink’s still obnoxious.”

“Your attitude is what's obnoxious.”

He glares at you from the corner of his eye. “Oh really? And you? Constant questions, never shutting up?”

“And yet you still haven’t told me your favorite color.”

He sighs dramatically. “Fine. Blue.”

“Blue?” I echo, surprised. “You don’t seem like a blue guy.”

He smirks. “Oh? What did you think I’d pick?”

“Something hotter. Like red or yellow.”

He laughs. “So all men like fire colors, huh?”

“Again with gendered colors,” I tease. “You’re just... passionate.”

Thrall stumbles at your words, ears turning pink. “That doesn’t—I mean—I...”

I can see my words throw him a little off, his ears going even more red. "Wait," I laugh, "Do I actually have you speechless right now?"

“I—no! It’s just—” He fumbles, completely flustered.

 My laughter bubbles up again. "Look at you, all cute and flustered."

“I am not cute!” he growls, cheeks burning.

“Oh, but you are!” I laugh, pinching his cheek.

He bats your hand away, grumbling. “I’m a fierce and powerful warrior! Not cute.”

"My mistake. I can see how fierce you are right now."

He yelps when you poke his side. “Hey!”

“Thrall... are you… ticklish?”

His eyes narrow, a sense of dread filling him as soon as the words leave your mouth. He takes a shaky breath, trying to keep his voice flat. "No. Of course not."

I raise an eyebrow, a sly grin spreading across my face. "No? Then you wouldn't mind if I..." My fingers brush against his sides gently, light as a feather.

He jerks, a strangled laugh escaping. “S-stop it!”

The sight of him squirming and laughing melts away any remnants of the tension in my body. "Oh my gods... you are!"

“I'm not!” he protests weakly.

I burst into peals of laughter, loving the way he twists and squirms under my touch. "Thrall, you're incredibly ticklish!"

He gasps for breath, red-faced and defeated. “I-it’s not f-funny!”

I finally relent, throwing my arms back around his neck. "I love hearing you laugh, I think." I'm a little breathless, still giggling.

His breath hitches, your words clinging to his ribs like ivy. “You are... dangerous.”

“Ah yes, me, the tiny menace.”

He huffs. “Yes. The tiny menace who controls me entirely. It’s terrifying.”

“You couldn’t even admit colors don’t have gender. I don’t have that much control.”

"You were this close to getting me to admit you were right about that." he mutters.

“So close,” I sigh dramatically. “One day, you’ll say I was right.”

“Keep dreaming,” he grumbles, but his hand strokes your leg gently.

“I have another question.”

“Another one?” he groans. “You never stop, do you?”

 "I am, unfortunately for you, a certified yapper."

“Believe me, I’ve noticed.” He adjusts your weight on his back.

“If you could be any animal, what would you be?”

He pauses, frowning in thought. "A bear. A big, powerful, brown bear."

“Knew it,” I murmur. “I love being right.”

“Of course you do,” he mutters. “What about you, oh mighty princess?”

"Ugh, I am not a princess. And I plan to keep it that way." I have to think about it. "I think... I think I would be a fox."

He snorts. “A fox? And why, pray tell, would you choose a fox?"

I think for another moment, my chin resting against his shoulder. "I don't know. They're just... They're clever, nimble, and kind of regal. I like how they look, I guess. How they blend into the woods, so easily unnoticed. I think I would like, just fading into the shadows." 

He listens, silent for a beat too long. The way you say it makes something in him ache.

“Yeah,” I whisper. “A fox.”

Thrall’s smirk softens into something gentler—almost reverent.

“A fox suits you,” he murmurs. “Graceful… but dangerous when provoked.”

I snort. “Are you calling me feral, misio?”

His smirk returns, one brow arching as he glances back at me. “Not just feral. Feisty. You’ll keep me on my toes, little fox.”

A thrill shoots down my spine. I didn’t know how much I needed to hear him call me that—little fox—until now.

“Maybe I’ll bite you if you’re not careful,” I tease, my voice low.

Thrall’s eyes flash, his grin sharpening. “Oh, I think I can handle a fox bite,” he retorts, arrogant and unbothered. “I’ve taken down worse.”

I scoff. “Really? What exactly have you ‘taken down’?”

He grins, cocky. “Oh, you know. Bears. Wargs. Giant snakes. The usual.”

I blink. “You’re kidding… bears? Snakes? Wargs?”

He nods, pride gleaming in his eyes. “Biggest bear I’ve ever seen was the size of a small house. Wargs were easy. Snakes though? Hate 'em.”

“What’s wrong with snakes? I think they’re rather elegant.”

He scoffs, disgust curling his lip. “They’re creepy. Slimy. And too damn fast for something with no legs.”

“They are not slimy!” I shoot back. “They’re essential to the ecosystem! Well... normal-sized ones, at least.”

Thrall rolls his eyes, grinning. “Here we go. Let me guess—you think mosquitoes have a purpose too?”

“Oh no. Mosquitoes can get absolutely fucked.”

He bursts out laughing, his body shaking with it. “Now that I agree with. But you like spiders too, don’t you? Don’t tell me you think they’re cool.”

“I’m not saying I want to cuddle them, but they’re fascinating. There’s a species on the southern isle where the males dance to attract females.”

Thrall snorts. “Great. So they’re creepy and performative. That’s just fantastic.”

I grin. “Okay, fine. What animals do you like?”

He sighs, thoughtful. “I don’t know. Birds? Dogs? Honestly, I don’t think I like animals that much.”

“We’ll have to work on that. Animals always seem to… gravitate to me. I still don’t know why.”

He grunts. “Gravitate to you, huh? So what—this mighty bear I took down would’ve just followed you like a puppy?”

“You certainly did.”

Thrall sputters, his face turning red. “I—! That was different! You don’t get to tease me anymore!”

“Oh really? I can’t tease my mighty warrior?” I giggle. “Where’s all that earlier arrogance? Gone now that you’re blushing?”

He growls, deep and low. “Shut it, you. I’m still perfectly capable of arrogance. I’ve been in wars, fought monsters—I'm not scared of a little fox.”

He can’t see the mischievous grin on my face before I sink my teeth into his shoulder.

Thrall jerks beneath me, a strangled gasp escaping as I bite down. His grip on my legs tightens, fingers digging into my skin. The sound he makes is primal—feral as his step falters, whole body tensing.

“Don’t. Do. That,” he growls through clenched teeth. “You’re playing a dangerous game, little fox.”

I can’t help it—I start laughing. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

His hands tighten again, his whole body shaking beneath me. His breathing comes ragged, uneven.

“You’re going to regret this,” he growls, voice full of heat and warning.

I shrug, running a finger lightly over the bite mark. “Maybe you shouldn’t be so… biteable.”

He huffs. “Biteable?” His voice drops an octave. He tenses again when I trace over the mark. “And how exactly am I ‘biteable’?”

“Well, for one, you practically beg for it.” I smirk, fingers returning to his shoulder. “You're like a coiled spring whenever I’m near.”

Thrall’s breath hitches, his body trembling, grip on my legs tightens again.

"And... and you're perfectly content to sit atop my back like the spiders you're so fond of and antagonize me, aren't you?"

I wrap my arms around his neck, resting my cheek against his hot skin. “What can I say? I like being close to you.”

He shivers. I can feel it ripple down his spine. But still, he chuckles.

“Of course you do. The little fox expects to be spoiled.”

“I don’t need to be spoiled,” I counter, smiling. “It’s just a perk of being me.” He snorts, but says nothing as I continue tracing the bite mark. “Besides, you’re excellent entertainment. I could keep myself entertained with just you.”

Thrall tilts his head slightly, just enough to let my fingers dance along the sensitive skin again. "I'm not a plaything, you know. I'm a strong warrior."

I let out a scoff, my voice teasing. "A strong warrior maybe, but also my own personal entertainment. You make it easy, you know? It's like you're made to be pushed to the edge. Your very existence seems to be built to be teased."

I punctuate my words with another gentle nip to his shoulder, grinning as he shivers again.

“You—” he hisses, fingers digging harder into my legs. “You—you…”

He’s struggling now, the words falling apart. I can feel how close he is to snapping. And gods, it’s intoxicating.

I lean in, teeth grazing his neck. “Me what, big boy?”

A growl escapes him, low and guttural. His body trembles beneath me.

“I’m not your plaything,” he says, trying to sound firm. “I’m an orc. I won’t be—toyed with.”

I hum against his skin, my laugh vibrating against his back. “Seems like I’m doing a pretty good job of it.”

“You—” Thrall gasps as my hands trail down his arms, tracing every inch of muscle. “You are the most infuriating creature.”

“I know. I’m insufferable.”

He’s practically thrumming beneath me now, his hands gripping my legs like he’s holding on for dear life. His pride is crumbling, his body betraying him.

“You’re the most— you’re—” he sputters again.

I’ve never had this kind of power over someone before. It’s heady. Dangerous. Addictive.

Then the word slips from his lips—soft, cracked, raw.

“Please.”

I freeze, heart stuttering. Thrall, my proud warrior, is begging.

“Please what?” I whisper.

He pants, body shaking.

“Please… touch me,” he chokes out.

The sound of his plea—gods. My entire body lights up. I lean in, breath warm in his ear, my nails gliding up his arms.

"Where, my misio? Where do you want me to touch you?"

Thrall shudders under your hands, a low moan slipping free. His grip on your thighs tightens, desperate, almost trembling.

"Anywhere," he groans, voice rough, needy. "Anywhere—just... touch me. Please."

I gasp at the raw hunger in his voice. My body is already burning, every nerve singing—but I hold back, just barely.

My hands glide over his shoulders, thumbs kneading into the tense muscles. "Anywhere, hmm?" I murmur, lips brushing up his neck, breath warm and teasing.

He arches beneath you, head tilted to give you access. The massage soothes him—but it's not enough. He needs more.

"Yes, please. Just..." His words dissolve into a moan.

"Patience," I scold gently, lips grazing his neck and shoulder as my hands slide to his arms, fingers roaming slow and deliberate.

He's strung tight beneath me, like a drawn bow. I can feel his restraint unraveling.

"My needy warrior," I whisper against his skin, nipping lightly.

Thrall whimpers, his whole body trembling. Each touch is a spark, a jolt.

"Don’t—" he pants, still offering his throat. "Don’t tease me, little fox. Please."

"But I’m having so much fun," I purr. He’s stopped walking now, the sunset filtering through the trees around us and I continue to caress every inch I can reach from my perch on his back.

"I—I—" His voice breaks as a moan tears out of him, his control fraying. His fingers dig into my legs, desperate. "Please... it's too much. I need you."

His pleading nearly breaks my own restraint. But I steel myself, fingers still gliding across his body.

"Need me, hmm?" I tease. "And what does my big, strong warrior need from little, helpless me?"

"I—I—" He's wrecked, body shaking, words failing him. Finally, he gasps, hoarse and hungry.

"You. I need you."

"That sounds a lot like surrender," I murmur, my touch growing hungrier, more possessive.

Thrall groans, body arching into my hands, utterly undone. "Yes!" he cries out. "I surrender. I give in. I want you—need you. Please!"

His surrender hits me like lightning. My breath catches, my hands clench on his body.

"Then prove it." My voice drops, low and rough with want.

Thrall reacts instantly, hands clenching tighter on my thighs. His gaze finds mine, wild and unguarded.

"How?" he breathes. "Tell me how."

I lean in, lips brushing his ear. My whisper is molten. "Get down on your knees. Right here. Show me how much you need me."

He doesn’t hesitate—he's already sinking to the ground, lost to the heat between us.

"Please—" he gasps, tilting his face to the sky. "Anything. I'll do anything you want."

The sight of him kneeling, trembling, offering himself—gods, it makes me ache. My hand cups his chin, lifting his face to mine, his eyes ablaze.

"Anything, hmm?" My voice is velvet.

"Anything," he growls, hands still gripping my thighs like they’re his anchor. "Anything you want, little fox."

I hum low in my throat, fingers tracing the line of his jaw. He’s utterly mine now. "And if I asked for the sun? Would you give it to me?"

"In a heartbeat," he says without flinching. "Anything you ask. Anything you want."

He stays kneeling, trembling, every muscle tight. I reach out to the nearest tree, and with a pulse of energy, a shelter grows around us—bark creaking, branches curling—my gaze never leaving his.

"You’re so beautiful on your knees, did you know that?" I murmur.

Thrall groans, face flushing. Your control, your gaze—it’s undoing him. "I—" His voice cracks. "I’m not... beautiful."

I frown, surprised by the vulnerability in his voice. "Are you saying I’m wrong?"

His eyes flare. "No!" he blurts, quickly. "You’re never wrong." He looks up, gaze fierce but uncertain. "It’s just..." He swallows. "That’s not a word people use for me. I’m not—‘beautiful.’ I’m a weapon."

My brows lift. I touch his cheek gently, startled by his honesty."You can be both, you know. You're a great warrior, that much is obvious. But you're also beautiful. Just because you're strong doesn't make you any less capable of being beautiful."

His face tightens, emotion flickering. He shakes his head. "But I—men aren’t supposed to be beautiful," he mutters, voice barely a protest.

I laugh softly, amused and a little exasperated. "Why not?"

He huffs like a sulky child. I can almost hear the gears grinding in his stubborn skull. "Because! We’re hard. Strong. Scarred. Not... pretty."

My hand tightens on his chin, frowning again. "There you go. Gendering everything."

He grumbles, pouting now. Adorably stubborn. "It’s just how things are," he mumbles, knowing how weak it sounds.

"You sound like a child, you know that?" I tease, my thumb brushing over his bottom lip, just like he did to me earlier.

Thrall's cheeks turn an even deeper red, embarrassment taking him over at how much he's pouting. He feels like a child, like he's lost some argument he can't wrap his head around, and it's making him feel off balance, lost.

Then I touch his tusk.

And he melts.

His whole frame shifts, hard edges softening, breath stuttering. He’s undone, pliant, trembling beneath my fingers.

"I’m not a child," he grumbles, voice barely above a pout.

It’s so damn cute.

I can feel my desire soaking through my small clothes, and from the way his eyes flick down—nose flaring—I know he senses it.

Thrall’s gaze drops again. He can’t help it. He can smell your need, feel it. It’s taking every ounce of willpower not to devour you right here.

"Please..." he breathes. "Just let me—"

I gasp at the sound of his voice, the aching plea. My hand grips his chin again, lifting his face. "You want something?" My voice is thick with hunger. "Say it."

He whines softly, trembling, desperate. "Please..." His eyes are fevered. "You smell so—gods, I want to taste you."

My breath hitches, body jolting at his words. My core pulses, clenching with need.

"You want to taste me?" I rasp. "How badly, warrior?"

Thrall groans, arms wrapping around my waist, face pressed against my thighs, breathing deep. 

"So bad," he begs.

I can barely breathe. The heat coming off my skin is dizzying. "Go ahead," I whisper. "Taste me."

His hands clutch my legs, face pressing against the thin fabric. He moans low, breath scorching.

My whole body is trembling now, my hands reaching out to grip his shoulders, to balance myself. My head is spinning, breath coming in short pants.

"Thrall," I gasp, "Please."

He moans again, your voice unraveling him. He’s done waiting.

My skirts are rucked up around my hips as he nuzzles deeper, tongue dragging a long, slow stripe along the soaked fabric underneath. His grip tightens, bruising.

I cry out, hips bucking. His hands pin me down—gods, yes—and I love it.

"Thrall..." I whimper. "Please, I need—"

He wants, no, needs, to be closer. He nuzzles his face against you, fingers ripping at the fabric in an effort to get you free. He's past caring, past the need to go slow. He needs to taste you, to feel you with his body.

"Thrall..." My nails dig into his shoulders. "Please, I need—"

But words fail me. I'm gone.

He groans like a man starved. His tongue meets your soaked cunt—and he moans.

You taste like sin and salvation. He buries his face deeper, licking, tasting, worshiping as his nails bite into your skin. Every muscle in him shakes with the force of his need.

I'm lost, my mind spinning, body taking over. I can barely speak, barely think. My hands grasp and pull, trying to grind my body against his mouth, begging for more.

"Thrall, please—yes, yes!" My voice is a desperate, broken prayer.

He moans again, drowning in you, his purpose reduced to just one thing: you.

His hand slides down, gripping your calf, hooking your knee over his shoulder, baring you completely to him.

I’m shaking now, breath ragged, body burning as his tongue moves against me, the heat of his skin on mine pushing me closer to the edge. I can feel it—so close I can taste it.

I can’t think. Can barely breathe. The only words that escape me are whimpers of his name, again and again, like a chant, like a prayer.

"Thrall, yes, please, yes!" I gasp, voice a broken moan. "Don't... don't stop... please, don't stop."

Thrall wouldn’t stop even if you begged him. He’s lost to it now.

You’re his reason, his purpose—his everything.

His tongue moves feverishly as he slips a thick finger inside your dripping heat, desperate to draw out more cries, more moans, more of you.

The edge is right there, sparking beneath my skin.

He can taste it—feel it—and it only makes him more determined to push you over.

My body is trembling, mind blank as I ride the edge. Every nerve is alive, singing with need. His name echoes from my lips, a desperate, breathless litany.

"Please, I'm... please, Thrall! I'm—" The words break into moans, my voice useless against the onslaught. "I'm... I'm almost..."

He hears it, feels the tension in your body, and he works harder, another finger sliding in, stretching, preparing you.

His tongue moves in a fast, steady rhythm. He’s shaking too—his need tangled with mine, overwhelming him.

And then I fall. His fingers curl inside me just as his tongue swirls, and that’s it. I’m gone. My mind blanks out, body shaking as the climax crashes through me.

I scream his name. My whole body convulses, skin burning. There’s no time, no world, no sense. Just him. Only him.

In that moment, I am his—and he is mine.

He groans against you, your name a cry in his mouth. The taste of you, the sound of you, the feel of you—everything about you fills him up. He has nothing to give you but his body and his heart, and he will give you both, over and over again.

Nothing else exists. Just this sacred pocket of the world between wood and trees. The outside doesn't matter anymore—and he wouldn’t care if it never did again.

The aftershocks roll through me, little tremors in my limbs. I’m panting, my whole body spent, melted into the floor. I can’t move. Can’t speak. Barely think.

I reach out blindly, needing to feel his skin. "Come here," I rasp. "Please."

He’s moving before the words even land. Crawling toward you, gathering you into his arms, trying to pull you into him, make us one.

Thrall is still trembling, mind dizzy. "You," he gasps into your neck. "You... amazing..."

I giggle, wrapping my arms around him, pulling him close. His weight settles against me like we’re made for this.

"And you're very needy," I tease, hands sliding along his back. "Who knew the big warrior was such a baby?"

A low grumble escapes him, but I feel his smile against my skin.

"Shut up," he mutters, squeezing you tighter. "I’m no baby."

I can't help the laugh that bubbles up. "You're absolutely a baby." I tease again, poking his ribs. "My big, grumpy baby."

Thrall groans, but can’t stop the grin on his face. It feels good—so good—to be called yours.

"Fine. I’m a massive, grumpy baby," he grumbles, arms locked around you like I’ll never let go.

Then I feel him—pressed against my thigh. The way hes grinding gently into me. The heat returns, swift and sharp. "You need more, don’t you?"

Thrall growls, body quaking. The need is written across every inch of him. "Yes," he whispers, burying his head into my neck. "I need... I need more. Please."

A thrill courses through me at the desperation in his voice. "Need what, hmm?" I tease, fingers trailing along his back. "Use your words."

He lets out a frustrated whine, clutching tighter. "You know what I need," he breathes. "Please, I just... I need so much."

"Tsk. Words."

He’s trembling now, his control unraveling. "I need to be inside you," he growls, voice low, primal. "I need to be part of you. My little fox."

His words light a fire under my skin. "What if I refuse you?" I tease, nails dragging lightly down his back. "What if I tell you no?"

His whole body bucks under my touch, a broken sound escaping him.

"Don't tease me," he begs, kissing along my neck. "Please... I need you. I need to feel you around me."

Thrall moans again, the sound raw, trembling. "Please," he whispers. "I’ll do anything. Anything you want."

"Then take me," I breathe.

He doesn’t hesitate. He’s on me in a flash, pinning me to the ground. His hands find my wrists, hold them over my head. He’s shaking—breathing hard, eyes wild. A beast let out of its cage.

I gasp, startled, the thrill of anticipation sparking through me. My legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in. I need him.

His instincts take over—lost to the moment. His cock presses against me, flushed darker, glistening, twitching in his grip.

My breath catches. "Oh my gods," I whisper.

He’s huge. And I’m torn between fear and aching want.

Thrall pauses, eyes flicking up, reading your expression.

"Are... are you okay?" he murmurs, the pride and worry mixing in his voice.

I can't look away. "That’s what the tree meant," I say, breathless. "When she said she liked your assets."

His grin grows cocky, pride flaring in his chest. "Do you... like what you see?" he asks, suddenly shy.

I nod, too dazed to speak. "Yes," I gasp.

His eyes darken at the sound. He pumps himself slowly, the slick head glinting. The need in him is almost unbearable now.

"Do you want this?" he asks, voice hoarse, hand trembling.

"I’ve never wanted anything more." I clutch his shoulders. "Please—yes—I need you."

My body is already moving, even if I barely feel it. Every part of me reaching for him. Then he’s there. The heat of him against me brings everything back into focus.

“You. Only you," He murmurs, voice breaking. "So good. So warm. Mine."

My vision is white as he eases himself in, the pressure mixed with pain as my body struggles to accommodate, panting and whining beneath him. It's somehow both too much and not enough.

"Talk to me, Annora," he whispers, holding still, voice tight with restraint.

"I’m... I’m okay," I breathe. The line between pain and pleasure is razor-thin. "Please don’t stop."

That’s all it takes.

His restraint shatters and he starts to move—slow at first, then faster. The rhythm builds, the pleasure overwhelming.

"Oh gods... you’re so tight..." he moans.

"Please, oh gods, please..." I beg, voice slurring.

I need him. I need everything.

"Take me, fill me, please. I want all of you." I plead, my voice almost a whine. I need him so badly, need him to take me, claim me, all of me belongs to him.

My world is him—and only him.

Your words are a drug—each one lighting up his nerves, making his body cry out to give in as he continues to fit his cock into you, inch by inch.

“Say it again,” he begs, breathless, barely coherent. “Say this little cunt is mine.”

“Only yours,” I moan, every part of me aching. “My everything... all of it belongs to you, Thrall. Please.”

Fuck.

Thrall can’t take it anymore. The plea, the sounds—your voice, the way you say his name—it’s too much.

“Gods above, you’re mine. You’re all mine,” he gasps, my whole body shaking, vibrating with need. He pushes into you—no restraint left—driven only by instinct, by want. The need to possess you. To be consumed by you. “You’re mine, mine—”

“I’m yours,” I moan, voice breaking. “All of me. I promise. Please—I need you. Just you.”

His hips slam into mine and I shatter. My back arches off the cold ground as a scream tears from my throat. There’s nothing left—only pleasure, raw and overwhelming, ripping through me as everything else fades. 

Rough strokes push me farther as he fucks me through it, making it impossible to catch my breath.

Oh gods.

I feel him pulsing inside me, his rhythm breaking, body trembling with the effort to hold on.

“Please—gods, I’m so close,” he groans, breath hot and uneven. “Annora, I’m so—so close. You need to—”

“Do it. Just let go,” I whisper, voice wrecked. “Please.”

He thrusts deep, and I feel his body lock against mine. I’m clenching around him, desperate for it, unable to hold back anymore.

With a final cry of your name, he gives in.

We fall together, crashing through that final wave. I don’t know where I end and he begins. Everything melts into one long, perfect moment of nothingness.

When his body finally stills, I almost whimper. We’re still joined, trembling, our bodies molded together.

Thrall can feel his heart pounding in his chest, the world spinning and fuzzy around the edges, but he cant bring himself to care. “I just want to stay here, just like this, you wrapped around me.”

He holds you tight, still shivering from the aftershocks. For the first time in his life, he feels full. Sated. Like there’s nothing left to chase. He places a soft kiss against your neck, lips lingering against the warm thrum of your pulse. I never want to let go.

I let out a low, contented moan, arms winding around his neck. My body feels like jelly, mind catching up slower than my breath.

His face buries against your shoulder, thoughts a tangled mess, but one rises above them all.

“Annora…” he whispers. “Thank you.”

“For what?” I murmur against his skin.

He pulls you in tighter, voice rough but soft. “For trusting me. For letting me share this with you.”

He shifts, rolling so I'm nestled against his chest, still buried deep within me. My heart feels so full I can hardly find words. "You're mine," I murmur, so blissed out that I'm barely awake. "Only mine."

“Only yours. Always yours.” The words are a growl low in his throat, satisfied. I want to say more, but I’m spent. My only thought is keeping you close. Safe.

He huffs, your voice is already thick with sleep. “Sleep. Just sleep, little fox.”

I sigh and press closer, our bodies fitting together like they were always meant to. My eyes flutter shut. The last thing I feel is his warmth surrounding me—safe, whole, and finally still.

Thrall stays awake long after you’re asleep, listening to your breathing. Needing to keep this moment. To guard it.

Eventually, sleep wins. He lets out a final breath and surrenders, cradling his little fox in his arms the whole way down.

[wannabeeverything]

Yeah I'm pretty sure every kid who was like "Wow Davy Johnes is sooo cool, he's my favorite character!" became a monsterfucker sooner or later

The millennial litmus test for sexuality was 100% Pirates of the Caribbean. I was 13 when the first movie came out. Literally everyone walked into that movie having been lured there by the attractiveness of Orlando Bloom in LOTR. The truly straight girls had been drawn in by his entry-level attractiveness and walked out lusting over the significantly older and manlier Jack Sparrow. The others had been unconsciously drawn in by Legolas's femininity and walked out with their eyes opened and lusting over Keira Knightley.

[ozzgin]

Is it weird I kinda want a monster Incel? Like he believes all humans are supposed to be a certain way but then they meet the first human and are initially disillusioned/upset but over time begin to regret their actions after falling in love and seeing humans as more than really hot porn/pictures online

content: gender neutral reader, NSFW

I'm thinking of a monster incel who is deeply envious and frustrated because he thinks humans only like conventionally attractive monsters.

He reads the comments from the human world with a resentful frown. "Of course he's hot," he grunts, eyeing the rather tasteful sketch of a tall, muscular orc. He turns to the mirror for comparison: multiple limbs, tendrils, a gargantuan body of darkness and blight. He doesn't have abs, nor a handsomely pale complexion and chiseled jaw. He is but an abstract aberration, a crooked ghoul.

It only makes sense that when he encounters you, his yearning and curiosity are swiftly replaced by anger. Give it a moment to fully process his existence, and you'll be disappointed, perhaps frightened. Maybe even disgusted.

He might as well get something out of this unplanned affair. With instinctual greed, he pins you to the ground, taking in your scent. His heart throbs with anticipation. How will you react once he's deep inside you, thrusting relentlessly and with sheer indifference to your protests? His razor-sharp teeth clamp together in seething jealousy; he can almost hear your sobs, feel your little fingers clawing around his hideous body, trying to escape. Of course, he's not the kind of monster you wanted. He's not-

Underneath his heaving chest, your small human form lays limp. He considers whether you've already given up and accepted your fate, when he notices the perverted grin spread across your face. It seems he never considered the possibility of a true monster fucker.

"Well? What're you staring for," you say with impatience, gesturing for the beast to hurry up and fuck you already.

Is it too late to ask you out on a proper date?

[oubliette-odette]

The Reluctance of Love Pt. 21

Orc Male x Half-Elf Male, Fated Mates, Forbidden Love, Slow Burn Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20 Content Warnings: mention of mating, homophobia, fantasy racism. All orcish is from orcishdictionary.com, created by Matt Vancil.

This was my fault. I had let my guard down. 

My heart was pounding fast inside me, but it was no longer for the rush I felt being near Altan. No, I was feeling the thumping of my body fearing for my life, for Altan’s life.

I pulled Altan in front of me and put myself between him and the men “Run!” I pushed him ahead of me and he began to scramble forward.

I snapped the longest piece of the arrow that extended out the side of my leg and grunted at the jolt of pain, but I’d have to deal with the rest later. I kept running, forcing my body to suppress the pain. I glanced back and saw two of the three men were racing down the hill towards us, the third let loose another arrow. I heard its whistle and felt a sting as it sliced the side of my arm, barely missing me. I hissed, but I didn’t slow. I didn’t have time to linger on the pain. I was the son of Uluraat orcs, and we did not let pain stop us from protecting each other.

There was a roar in my ears as I kept just behind Altan. I glanced back and saw that all three were now in pursuit. They each had hoods concealing their faces as they sprinted towards us. We had an advantage, but if we slowed at all, they would gain on us. 

“Altan,” I called, “Hold tight.”

He looked back at me, his eyes wide as I suddenly swept him up and into my arms. His arms found my neck and he held on tight to me. We both knew I was faster than him, I could carry him as long as I needed to. To keep him safe. 

“What are you doing?” he yelled, “You’re injured!” 

My expression was grim as I met his eyes for only a flash, “I’ll live.”

He frowned, but said nothing. He looked back, “They’re not slowing down.”

“Neither will I.”

“How long can you keep this up?” His voice was shaking.

“As long as I have to.” I said. My words came out more like grunts as I tried to keep my breathing level. My body was pounding to a rhythm that I had long since forgotten. 

“Drun, your skin is burning.” Altan said.

“It’s good.” I grunted. Orcs' bodies were built for war, for hunting and survival and when our bodies were pushed to the extreme, there was a sudden rush that made our blood burn and our bodies be able to push through extreme injuries or exhaustion. It worked and felt similarly to lordhovid. I had not felt such sensations since I was much younger, and there was a part of me that missed the feeling of pushing my body to its limit. There was a roar in my ears that dimmed all sound except for the sound and feeling of my feet pounding into the earth, I could feel the soil break beneath me. My leg had an ever present throb that I couldn’t quite shake, but I was determined. I couldn’t slow down. I couldn’t. 

Altan clung to me, saying nothing, I could feel his own heart pounding against my chest. He watched with wide eyes ahead of us and then looked back and said, “We’re losing them I think.”

I didn’t respond and still I didn’t slow. My breath was coming out of my mouth in short, loud puffs and I clung to Altan, making sure he would never fall from my grip. I was fueling every part of me into running. Faster if I could. It didn’t matter how long it would take, but I would get Altan free. My arms were beginning to tire and my leg was starting to scream at me. I didn’t dare look down to see how much blood I was losing. I couldn’t care about that, not yet. At the speed I was running I was praying that I would ourselves reaching my father’s camp soon. I may have an advantage on our pursuers, but I also knew that my body wouldn’t keep this up forever. Eventually I would collapse.

“Drun.” Altan pulled himself up. I could sense fear in his voice and I looked back. I saw nobody there and even though I kept running, I began to slowly pull back. 

“Your leg.” He said, looking down. “Let me dress it.”

I shook my head, “No, it will be fine once we get to camp.”

“Drunrag.” Altan pushed. “I won’t accept you losing so much blood that you faint.”

I shook my head. “Not possible.” Orcs don’t faint, we die before that could ever happen.

He frowned and his face became grim. “Drunrag Uluraat, we are doing this together. Let. Me. Help. You.”

I read the determination in his expression. He would not accept no for an answer.

I slowed to a stop and I suddenly grimaced as the pain overwhelmed my senses. He kept his arms around my neck as he swung his legs free and hopped down to his feet. He reached for the bottom of my tunic, not even asking before ripping off the bottom portion. 

“There’s a lot of blood, the arrow has moved a lot.” he looked up after assessing what was left of the arrow sticking from my thigh. “I’ll do my best to control the bleeding, but I don’t think I can remove the arrow just yet” He started to wrap the cloth around my leg, keeping it tight just above the wound. 

“Thank you,” I said, then looked behind us, assessing our surroundings. “We probably don’t have much time.”

His eyes were narrowed and concentrated on the wound, he didn’t give any sign that he had heard me as he tightly knotted the bandage. 

“Tighter.” I said roughly, I wiped sweat from my brows and looked over my shoulder, my heart skipped a beat as I saw the distant shadowy shapes of our pursuers that hadn’t been there before.

“We have to get moving.”

“If you keep running, it could injure you more.” He protested.

“We can deal with that later.” I looked back again and then back to Altan. “Are you ready?”

He looked at my leg nervously before nodding and letting me lift him back into my arms.

I started to run, but immediately I realized our error for stopping. My body protested with every step and I felt as if the exhaustion from the last three days had caught up with me. I groaned as I felt the intense searing pain as I moved my leg again and again. The motion was suddenly near unbearable and I began to limp. 

“Drun.” Altan’s voice was distant in my head, I could only hear a shrill ringing. “Drun!”

I continued to run, to struggle onwards. Every orc warrior kept standing until their last breath, and I would do the same to make sure that Altan was safe. I met his eyes and we both knew I wasn’t as fast before, and that I was fading, but I had to keep going. It was our only chance. Stopping now would mean death.

“Drun,” Altan’s voice cut through again, he gripped my neck tighter. “They’re gaining on us.”

I turned around and realized that they were on horses now, with two additional riders with them. I felt the weight of what that meant.

There would be no escaping them. 

I slowed down, holding Altan close to me.  “Altan, promise me that whatever happens, you’ll keep running towards those hills until you find my father. Do you understand?”

He jerked in my arms and looked at me with a grim expression. “Drunrag. What are you saying?”

“Promise me.”

He shook his head. “No, we’re doing this together.”

“Altan.” I said, his name hurt on my lips, and I ached to swallow the emotion away from my voice. I set him down and grabbed his shoulders. “We are always together, but we also need to prepare for if something gets worse. I need to buy you some time.”

“But you’re injured.”

“They slowed us down on purpose, this is what they wanted. But I’m also the son of the greatest warrior I know.” I said. “I will fight, whatever it takes. For you. For us. If you can keep running and get to my father’s camp, they will bring reinforcements to help. We’re not far, but I have to make sure one of us gets a chance to get there.”

He shook his head. ‘I don’t like this. Drun, I don’t want to leave you.”

I lifted the vial from his neck and then placed my hand on his chest, above his heart. “We can find each other again. Do you trust me?”

His eyes softened and turned sad. “Drun, you’re saying this like something will go wrong.”

“It may,” My voice was sober as I set him down on the ground. “Do you trust me?”

He nodded, “I trust you. Always.”

I gave him a grim smile, “Then go. To the hills, follow the smell of the smoke and don’t look back.”

Altan’s eyes hardened to steel and he nodded. “I love you, I’ll come back for you.” 

I nodded. “Nod merad,” I cupped his face and leaned in, letting us both savor one last final kiss before I let him go. I felt that feeling of completion, of unification before I pushed him away and my voice cracked, “Go.”

There wasn’t time to say or do anything more. His eyes were on me a few moments longer, we both seemed to be trying to memorize all of our features in a matter of seconds, before he turned from me and began to run.

I looked back to the shadows of the riders ahead of us and I felt the cold reality of what I was doing. Orcs fought in packs, while I stood alone. These riders outnumbered me. They had arrows, weapons, horses - means to not only defend themselves, but also the means to kill me if they so chose. I was not loved by the Duke or his council, very likely they would not hesitate to kill me. I had nothing to defend myself. All that Commander Gideon had given me was a small dagger. It would be enough to throw at one target, but there would still be four more, and they likely wouldn’t hesitate to retaliate.

Perhaps the blood soaked soil of the Fields of the Dead would promise me victory. I breathed in deep and prayed to the orc-god for his blessing. His lust for blood was what kept the land fertile and safe for my people, he was always near to them when they stayed so near where war had been. I hoped I was still given the grace to be acknowledged by him.

I looked back over my shoulder one last time and I saw my beloved’s back becoming smaller and smaller as he ran towards the hills where my father would be. Please be good to him, I prayed. Please let him live.

I wondered if I would see him again. Or if I had already said goodbye to him. I remembered how it had only been a few hours ago today.  I remembered what had told me, “If I am lucky, I would have all of you.”  Was today all I could ever give him? I wanted to give him so much more. I would give him everything I had if I had the chance then.

I heard the pounding of the hooves and turned back, I slipped the dagger free from its sheath on my belt and I held my stance.

My eyes focused on the riders and as they came closer, I began to catch details of them that I had not been able to see before. One of them had their hood flown back, revealing their shaved head and glowing red eyes. My heart faltered as I recognized what this meant with their bright red garb. 

I was familiar with this guild of hunters, though I had never encountered them before. The Red Hunters: a shadowy group of mercenaries that lurked in shadows all across Faerun, that could be convinced to hunt down anyone or anything for a bit of coin. Their methods were uncommonly violent and their work was renowned for their special brand of cruelty. They were trained killers, but they were also trained in other arts: tracking what is supposed to be untraceable, killing what is unkillable, torturing what should be unbreakable. They all shared the common features of the red of their eyes - a malformation from a drug they consumed to heighten their senses - and shaved heads. 

I didn’t know how the Duke was able to pay such a high fee when I knew of his debts. And I also didn’t know what that meant for my fate. Was I to die by their hand? Or be taken somewhere much worse?

Gruumsh, hear me, I am unworthy of your blessing, but I ask it all the same.

Let me live so that I may see him again.

Let me live.

The party of riders slowed and approached me. They each pulled back their heads and I saw that they all also wore masks that concealed all but their red, burning eyes. 

“Orc.” One of them called, their voice biting.

I did not answer, only returning with a glowering stare.

“Where is the young lord?” The same one asked.

I did not answer again. 

The one who spoke turned to the one to their left and in a different language made some sharp command. The one who received the orders began to urge their horse forward, and it was then that I loosened my grip on the knife and let the weight of its hilt swing until my fingers caught hold of it by the blade. My eyes locked on the rider’s neck that was moving towards me and I let the knife fly, watching the blade sink right where I aimed. The rider gurgled before they slid off the saddle and fell to the ground, either dead or dying. 

“You will go no further.” I shouted, my voice came out as more a roar than a yell. I did not care that I might have appeared more beast than man at that moment. I wanted them to know I would die before they got their hands on my mate.

“Orc.” The first speaker called. “You will not repeat such an act of violence. You have made your talent apparent, now listen carefully. You will not live if you act out again, and then who will protect your lover then?”

“What are your demands?” I seethed where I stood. They would use Altan against me, they knew it would work. I had never possessed such a weakness as strong and obvious as him before and I was too desperate to sacrifice him. 

“You will come with us. There is a Duke who would like to see you. Alive, unfortunately. But I’m not afraid to kill you all the same if you do not obey me.” The leader urged his steed forward and they approached me until they were stopped only a few feet from me. 

As I stood, my eyes just above their horses' glassy eyes and I only had to look up a bit to meet the eyes of the leader. 

“You will not hurt him?” I asked.

They shrugged, “We’ll see. Will you go willingly?”

I tried to read their eyes, but those red, hollow eyes expressed nothing but contempt and apathy. There would be no gambling with these people. I bowed my head. 

 The leader turned back and called out to the other three riders. I watched in mute horror as two of them burst into a gallop towards the hills, pulling the crossbows from their hips. 

“No!” I yelled. I somehow knew they would not respect my desire and lunged out to stop them, but I felt something lodge into my thigh - my good one - and I faltered and landed on my knees. 

The two riders who were left circled me and the leader scoffed at me. “Pathetic. I thought orcs were a little more impressive than…this. You’re a bit of a disappointment, aren’t you?”

I felt another painful sharpness in my leg and I looked down to see that two crossbow bolts were now lodged just above my knee on my right knee. It took everything in me to hold back the groans of pain, I clenched my jaw and I sat up, my knees were shaking beneath me. 

“What made you think we would actually honor any request you made?” They asked.

“Idiot” The other chuckled. 

I glared at each of them, my hands were fists at my side. I had nothing to fight back. I was grounded by two wounds that kept me from running. What was next?

“Cuff him.” The leader said darkly. 

The other retrieved chains from their pack and my eyes flashed with horror as I recognized cuffs for my feet, my hands, and a collar for my neck. 

They were going to chain me like an animal. 

I started to flail as the rider dismounted and approached me with the chains. I wouldn’t be treated so disrespectfully. I may not be the perfect orc I was supposed to be, but I understood my honor, my pride. I would not accept this. The last thing I remembered was the shrill scream of their mount as it rose to its hind legs and then feeling a hard, painful collision to the back of my head. 

Altan. I thought as darkness claimed me. I’m so sorry.

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[bnyf]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤnocturnal ♡

╭﹕୨୧﹒ yandere! creepy eldritch monster x female reader

┊ warnings : female reader, dark content, yandere content and themes, unhealthy behaviors, unhealthy relationship and relationship dynamic, sexual content, noncon, obsession and possession, cult, monsterfucking, finger, squirting, size difference, creepy as fuck, tentacles, mentions of death, sacrifices and heavy topics.

╰﹕୨୧﹒authoress note : i lowkey hate this

your soft body laid out on the hard concrete platform, barely conscious but conscious enough to know that your fate had been long decided. your pulse raising, hearing their incohesive impious chants echo in the hallow halls of this cave-like labyrinth. you could only softly sob as your final moments neared you.

skin red and sensitive from the ropes that bind you together intricately, like a turkey, a meal to be served. luckily, you were blind folded, you didn't want to witness them in their black cloaks, faces covered with scary masks, and worst yet, the fire in a circle accompanied by the polygon star as you laid on the blood stained concrete altar... stained with blood from previous sacrifices.

you may just die of heart attack rather than these idiotic fools worshipping some demonic entity they call their 'god' due to how irregular your heart is beating, and so quickly too you can't even breath. you'd been kidnapped and forced to perfume a series of rituals including bathing in milk, eating nothing but fruit and honey for days, dressing in a really pretty all white bridal gown and veil to then be killed here. and to say you've been on edge these past few day was nothing short of a understatement. you were going insane with fear. this was something straight out of a horror movie, it was so surreal... and you definitely do not mean that in a good way.

being locked up in a rusty cage in this brutalist place that seems like a huge maze that's never ending. like you were already in the entity's realm and you could sense it's presence, it's eyes lurking at you. you felt so naked, you felt like time in the outside world versus here was different: one day outside here was one whole week, or at least that's what it felt like.

and these crazed fucks. seriously, what was wrong with them? they didn't hurt you, they kept saying you were the chosen one. that your heart, your soul, was over ripening with purity. you'll bring their god great satisfaction and give birth to half human offsprings who'll be even stronger and take over the human realm, you'll save and redeem them and other bat crazy shit you've never heard of and don't understand.

after a while, the chanting slows down and goes quiet...

you didn't know what to expect, you were sure they'd kill you by now but... something's strange, and it makes you so uncomfortable, not knowing or being able to see. only able to hear your heartbeat amongst the other noises. and boy oh boy, you almost peed yourself when you heard that strange sound, a grotesque cry. whatever made that sound is. not. a. human.

and right about now? can they please hurry up and kill you. you wouldn't wanna be around for when this 'thing', this entity that you're starting to believe isn't just their imagination gets here. you couldn't even tell if they were still around, everything had went silent. fuck. did these fuckers ran off while leaving you here to get savaged by this beast?

and so with each movement, the ominous entity's presence became closer. you'd only realised that the cult members were still there when they all said some weird thing in a language you couldn't recognize,? you pressum it's a greeting or something to their god, you could imagine them bowing straight down to the grown with their heads on the concrete floor like their lives depended on it.

at this point you were trembling despite how badly you tried to keep you composure and stay calm. a wet, long appendage, something akin to a tongue? licked your neck, then your thigh, and by the time it licked your face, you'd realized it was multiple of appendages? you couldn't help the scared whine that left your lips. just what the hell is this entity? and what is happening right now?

slimey drool is left where the creature had licked you. now, so close you could feel it's warm breath tickling your skin. a pair of hands now placed on your body? they're strong, calloused, roughly groping you in a perverted manner. you've never been so flabbergasted and scared in your life, seriously what's going on? you thought you'd be dead by now but instead seems like your capturer has other plans.

you didn't even wanna complain out of fear of aggravating this... person? or thing and end up dying. maybe if you're complaint, you might just be able to plan an explain somehow somewhere or at the very least, learn to adapt- actually escaping would be good cause hell no where you gonna stay in this weird place like a sitting duck.

you're going to get out of this one way or another, no matter what. and just as that thought passes your mind, things only get weirder when it now feels like six arms, 3 on each side, groping you. one even undoing the binds from you but your legs are weak and you dare not run when you could just sense this... thing is wayyy larger than you.

you can't stop the soft whines escaping your lips though and 'it' can't stop making a weird grunting noise, almost like it's heaving from excitement? at this point your guessing this and that but your guessing isn't too far off you think. it really isn't.

two hands holding your legs open, two kneading your breast, and one circling your clothed clit and the last holding the side of your cheek as it sticks its thumb and index in your mouth, resting on your tongue. it tasted weird, like a mix of ashes and metallic, like something dirty that doesn't taste quite dirty but it is? whatever it was, it was feigning human intimacy. this was simply horrid. you could couldn't believe what was happening, this had! to be some sick prank but you really didn't want to take your blind fold of because this shit was too scary and if it wasn't? then you'd had to probably confront a monstrous nightmare and you weren't ready for that!

it was foul. your body is responding quite well to 'it's advancements thus far, creating a damp spot which 'it' gladly soothed with 'it's plush appendage and rough digits, gliding over your clothed pussy like 'it' knew exactly what human girls liked. strange.

your beautiful pure white dress is abruptly ripped into a new fashion which allows your legs to show and for great movement, your panties are also thorn to threads and before you can properly process what's about to happen next, your velvety walls is being comforted by one of 'it's thick, rigid digits. first a confused mewl slips your throat then followed up by an embarrassingly lewd moan. the wet sounds and your ambrosial voice only sounds so loud due to this place being so eerily quiet and spacious, your moans are otherwise soft but rings like a bell in everyone's ear in this concrete brutalistic place.

it's even more embarrassing when you remember the cult members are most likely still around, watching or listening to what's happening.

but it's seriously becoming difficult to not let loose and let your full voice out when your arousal continues to heighten, your hips are shaking like a dog despite your reluctance. your body disobeys you and subconsciously accepts all this pleasure without your control or admission.

so what are you to do next? what can you do next? other than comply for your dear life, for your survival.

when another finger that seems like it belongs to a being no shorter than 7 feet enters you and your clit being rubbed into a pace that alters from rough to gentle enters you, of course it's inevitable that you buck your hips, gripping the fabric of your ruined, now dirty white dress. you can't even reason with yourself anymore, it is what it tis. all the more excuse to ride 'it's fingers like a little merry-go-round.

but... it's seriously not what you want! trust if you were to pick between being fucked by some weird cult entity or resting in your bed safely at home or literally anywhere else you'd picked the safer option. no questions asked. you don't like this one bit, don't want this, you hate that your body's making you look like a liar.

you've been lamenting this whole time, both tears of fear and overstimulation but tears nonetheless. your mind is going numb already and all your g spots are being meet, not before long a feral, low growl, something you'd hear in a horror. it sent chills up your spine as your own voice mixed in with the mesh. girl screaming and shrieking? you'd almost think a murder happened, the thought of a girl squirting on her assailant's appendages and fingers wouldn't cross any oblivious minds.

you're subconsciously grinding onto 'it's fat fingers, breast swaying with each movement and your perky nipples are being teased and tasted by 'it's tentacle like body part, suckling and nibbling on, not only your breasts but all various parts of your body. eyes rolled back and lips slight agap you feel like your seeing white, eyes all teary and drooling like a dumb slut. this is way worse than being brutally killed, cause in a way, your spirit is being weakened.

one thing that caught you off guard though was... your blindfold had slipped a little. like so small, so tiny, it's only so little for you to try and make out one or two things. it was dark and gloomy, you could barely make out anything. especially with your tears being teary and your mind going numb with pleasure.

huh? what... is that...?

you panicked and clasp your hands over your mouth, shutting your eyes but the image still imprinted in your mind making you gasp and hold your chest. now this was just a whole new level of creepy and fucked up. that thing... it really is an entity. it looked you right in the eyes for a split second, 'it's eyes the darkest black you ever seen, you could of sworn you saw literal souls in it, trapped. from what you could make out, it's torso mimicked a male's. it had six arms and tentacles like suckors coming from somewhere in the back. and... the most uncanny valley appearance, with wide dark orbs, a ridiculously sharp pearly white smile, and even darker long hair.

it saw you saw it. and only smiled.

right about now, you were too scared to even move an inch. and your squirting? might as well be you pissing yourself.

everything about this entity aims to mimic humans but fails in the most horrendous and terrifying way possible. this isn't a prank. you don't even think you can escape this nightmare. whatever foolish hope you held in your heart faded into dust. you held your breath and started praying in your head, the only way you know to get out of this at this point. even death would be okay right about now.

surely, this amount of fright wasn't good for your health. you were hoping your heart gave out or something.

'it' removes it's fingers from your soaking wet pussy. suddenly your being rubbed by something even thicker than before, girthy, veiny and your heart flares up again. how's that supposed to even fit? 'it's cock slides up and down your jello-like folds, coating itself in your juices. you can't even protest, too scared to utter a word. you instantly go ridged when you feel 'it's hair tickle your skin, bending 'it's lanky frame down for 'it's lips to meet your earlobes. it's voice a unappealing melody, making you irk at it's distorted speech.

"̵s̴c̷a̸r̵e̷d̷?̷ ̶y̴o̷u̴ ̷s̴h̸o̷u̴l̸d̴ ̵b̵e̷.̴ ̴i̶'̵m̵ ̷y̶o̷u̴r̸ ̶g̵o̸d̷ ̴n̸o̸w̴.̸ ̴a̷n̵d̵ ̸y̷o̶u̵ ̷m̶y̵ ̵g̶o̷d̵d̸e̸s̷s̵.̴ ̶i̷t̴'̷s̷ ̵i̴n̸e̴v̵i̵t̴a̴b̸l̵e̵ ̶t̸h̵a̵t̸ ̴y̷o̵u̴'̵d̶ ̷e̴n̵d̷ ̸u̸p̷ ̵i̴n̶ ̵m̸y̸ ̴g̶r̴a̶s̴p̶.̴ ̴i̸ ̶l̵o̴n̴g̶e̷d̷ ̷f̷o̷r̶ ̶y̸o̸u̴,̴ ̸f̶o̵r̷ ̶a̸ ̸v̷e̸r̸y̷,̴ ̴v̴e̷r̸y̵ ̸l̷o̷n̵g̴ ̶t̵i̸m̴e̵.̸ ̸f̶r̸o̸m̵ ̷n̴o̶w̶ ̵o̷n̵,̷ ̸w̵e̴'̶l̶l̸ ̴c̷r̴e̶a̷t̶e̷ ̶o̴u̵r̸ ̵o̷w̸n̷ ̴w̵o̷r̷l̴d̸ ̵o̶f̴ ̴d̷a̵r̸k̸n̸e̴s̷s̶ ̷a̷n̸d̴ ̵r̸e̴j̵o̸i̵c̸e̵ ̴i̸n̷ ̴i̴t̵.̴ ̸o̵n̴c̴e̶ ̴t̶h̶i̸s̸ ̶r̸i̵t̴u̴a̵l̸'̵s̴ ̴w̷e̵'̸l̴l̶ ̴b̸e̵ ̸t̸o̵g̶e̷t̵h̸e̵r̶ ̵f̷o̷r̵e̷v̷e̴r̶.̴"̶

translation : "scared? you should be. i'm your god now. and you my goddess. it's inevitable you'd end up in my grasp. i longed for you, for a very, very long time. from now on, we'll create our own work of darkness and rejoice in it. once this ritual's over, we'll be together. forever."