Male orc x male reader - monthly Patreon story (nsfw, 9.6k words)
Greetings! Apologies for this being a little later in the month than I wanted it to be. I have been occupied with reopening my Etsy shop (Patreon discount by the way!), and this orc lad had so many iterations before a random prompt on Tumblr gave me this Reddit-worthy angst fest with a very happy ending. Do check the warnings just in case, but there's nothing in huge detail.
I will not be charging Patrons for next month (November 2024) because things are going to get a bit more bonkers, with my mum moving across the country and I'm gonna have to be there a lot for her, so there'll be no story next month. I'll keep updating the not-yautja story (ShipMates) as and when though :).
The idea/prompt that sparked this final version was this:
_
Story content: Set in the Starfall Springs universe, in the university town of Old Trollbridge. The male reader (nerdy academic type) spots a big and very wealthy male orc having a very bad day (see warnings below, light story spoilers) and checks in on him. A deep friendship is kindled, which develops over time into a nice mutual crush, which is eventually resolved... :)
Warnings/nsfw content: orc is cheated on by long term boyfriend with his brother in law, falsely accused of attempted SA, and is not believed by his own family and is instead ostracised and denied contact for a while. Reader supports him through that and helps him move on and get back to his life. NSFW content: big male orc prefers to bottom and is on the receiving end of anal fingering and penetrative sex.
Preview:
The spattering of liquid falling from a fairly decent height, and the fizzing hiss of a billion tiny bubbles bursting on the pavement, was not the sort of thing you’d expected to hear upon coming out of the Medieval Research Library.
Confused, you looked across the street in the general direction of the bus stop and a multi-species daycare and, of all things, spotted a huge orc upending an extremely large — at least large by human reckoning — bottle of Silkfoot Valley sparkling wine into the gutter beside the bus stop. At four in the afternoon. Those bottles were not. cheap.
The bus stop had no bench for waiting, and the actual town centre of Old Trollbridge was a fair walk from your department’s new library building, so what on earth was he doing wearing an expensive suit and wasting expensive wine here of all places?
You needed to catch a bus home though, so you hoped he wasn’t going to cause you any trouble. He didn’t look drunk — he was pouring it all down the drain after all — and as you drew in a deep breath and crossed the road, he didn’t look up at you. He just stayed with his body leaning against the edge of the shelter and this dead, empty look in his dark brown eyes while the bottle dangled upside down from his fingertips.
He looked… defeated.
Seven or so feet tall, and as broad at the shoulder as the bus for which you were waiting, he looked pretty traditional for an orc: black hair plaited back off his face in two braids and left long and loose down his back; thick, tapered ears pierced all the way up and adorned with little silver and gold rings. From his earlobes hung — again traditional — bone or ivory amulets, and around both of his huge tusks he had a cuff of worked silver. He had on a gorgeous, forget-me-not blue, button-up shirt and deliciously-fitted, slate grey suit trousers. His shiny black shoes might even have been vintage dragon hide. He didn’t look like the kind of person who would normally be waiting there for a bus. He looked like the kind of person who owned a company and should be picked up in a limo.
Sexual themes
