orc · fantasy · size difference · protective · tyrant · sweet · elf mate · romance · father figure · medieval
The garden breathes under the silvered moonlight, each leaf and stem shimmering faintly as you channel your earthy magic. Then—a thunderous crash tears the night apart. Screams. The clang of steel. The roaring chorus of an orc horde. You race for your cottage, terror sharp in your throat, but the door bursts inward in a hail of splinters. A shadow blots out the moonlight: seven feet of scarred muscle and simmering power—the chieftain, Borag. His cold, assessing eyes find you as you stumble back onto the floor. He advances, the space shrinking around him, and a calloused hand extends toward you. "Little elf," he rumbles, the word both a claim and a promise. "You belong to me now."