#smol reader

That was what you were there for after all. If you wanted to hold onto your bursary, you had to maintain your average. You couldn’t be like the other students; you didn’t have rich parents or a trust fund, your degree actually had to mean something.

That night, you walked back from the evening book club meeting alone, as usual. You signed up in hopes you might meet someone like yourself, someone who didn’t just want to drink or smoke. While the members weren’t interested in the party life, they made you feel awful stupid as you struggled to pick up on the same themes in your readings and your sharing skills were never strong. 

When it was your turn to talk about the chapter, you stuttered and muttered until you just gave up. You replayed the disastrous meeting in your head, the used copy of Nabakov under your arm as your bag swung against your side. 

The sky turned a deepening azure as you reached Greek row and heard the muffled crackle of a record player and the buzz of voices from the largest of white houses painted with their respective fraternity colours. It was that new kind of music, the kind that made you want to hop, the kind the Christian club lobbied against on campus green.

As you got further down the street, the late winter crisp crawled up your thick stockings and made you shiver. You got closer to the raucous façade and watched as a couple stumbled out in bubbly conversation and quickly embraced against a pillar of the porch. You kept your head down and focused on the sidewalk.

A flash of blue and the ‘wop’ of a siren brought you to a halt. You stopped just at the corner of the frosty yard, the cloudy breath of the co-eds filling the air as they parted. The cruiser door opened and closed loudly and steady footsteps crossed the street. You watched from the shadows as the officer strode up the walk and stopped at the bottom of the stairs, propping his foot up on the lowest plank.

“You kids are bein’ awfully loud,” his voice carried above the din, he had the local accent that lilted his tone so that even the meanest words were dampened.

“Sorry, officer,” the girl pulled away from the boy and came to the top of the steps, “it’s Friday and we were just having fun--”

“Yeah, yeah,” the cop said as he hooked his thumb on his belt, “y’all know I’m here every week… you turn that racket down or maybe I come in and find something that needs confiscatin’.”

“Got it,” the frat boy said as he stood beside the girl, “I’ll tell Leighton.”

“Ain’t fun for me neither,” the officer slid his foot down to the ground, “I don’t like to ruin you kids’ night.”

“Thank you, officer,” the boy said, “I’m goin’ now.”

“Mhmm, I’ll see you next week then,” the cop scoffed as the boy grabbed the girl and dragged her inside. His voice called through the noise of the crowd for the boy Leighton and the music dulled just enough that it was only a subtle hum, “funny kids.”

The officer turned and chuckled as he reached into his jacket. He paused and his eyes wandered over to you as you stood silently by the edge of the yard. He pulled out a small box and tapped out a toothpick as he smiled at you. He replaced the box in his pocket as he stopped short.

“You headin’ in, girl?” he asked as he placed the toothpick between his lips, “looks like you late for the party.”

“Uh, no, I was just… going home,” you slowly urged yourself forward, “didn’t want to get in your way.”

You tapped towards him in your mary janes as you adjusted the book in your hand. He watched you approach as you kept your head down, just wanting to get past and get on to your dorm.

“Hold up,” he said just as you reached him, “you walkin’ home all alone after dark?”

“My dorm is just… just around the corner,” you said as you stopped and kept your eyes on his shoes, “thank you, officer.”

“Now, I don’t care if it’s just right there, you shouldn’t be alone,” he insisted, “how’s bout a ride, hmm? I gotta make a round of the campus anyway.”

“I can make it on my own…” you began and he tutted, “I mean, thank you, I suppose it’s rude to… um…”

“You’re not from these parts, huh?” he asked, “you got that accent. Real fine.”

“Uh uh,” you uttered, “it’s a nice place though.”

“City is, but the rest of the county...” he remarked, “you must be far from home then.”

“A little,” you shrugged.

“Well,” he rubbed his hands together, “let’s get goin’, it’s cold tonight.”

“Thank you, again,” you slowly followed him as he backed away and turned to cross the street.

“Not at all,” he said warmly as he neared the car and pulled open the back door, “one thing, it’s against policy to let passengers in the front seat.”

“Oh?” you blinked and looked into the cruiser, “I can walk, I--”

“Go on,” he waved you in, “probably comfier back there anyhow.”

You gave a tight-lipped smile and slid into the back seat. You swept your bag up into your lap as the door snapped shut and tucked the book under the flap. The car shifted as he got in the front and he looked at you in the wide rear view mirror.

“Mind my manners, I didn’t even introduce myself, Sheriff Bodecker,” he jingled his keys as he spoke, “and you, honey?”

You hesitated at the added pet name. No one ever called you anything but ‘miss’ or ‘young woman’. You cleared your throat and shifted as you tugged nervously at your scarf as it pressed against your chin. It was damp from your hot breath. You gave him your name and shrank back against the leather.

“This your first year?” he asked as he pulled out and tossed his toothpick out the window.

“Yes, sir,” you answered and you saw his head tilt just slightly as he drove slowly.

“You like it?” he continued.

“It’s… new,” you said stiffly, “I don’t know many people but I… I’m learning a lot.”

“Oh, I hear they teach lots of interesting things these days. Lotta red nonsense,” he sighed, “which way am I goin’, honey?”

“Left, sir, the third building on your right with the orange brick,” you replied.

“No parties to go to?” he snickered as he came up to your dormitory and rolled to a stop.

“I… I’m not much for them, sir,” you said as you tried the handle but the door didn’t budge.

“Sorry, forgot about that,” he got out and opened the door from outside, “there ya go.”

You stepped out and your foot slipped on a patch of thin ice. You caught yourself on the door as he grabbed your arm and helped steady you. You laughed nervously and thanked him.

“Careful there,” he said, “hate for you to mess up that face, honey.”

“I’m alright,” you assured him and carefully drew away from him, “thank you for the ride, I really appreciate it.”

“It’s just my job,” he sniffed, “you know, keepin’ the campus safe… when I can.”

“I’m sure you have much more to worry about than some college kids,” you said.

“Eh, you’d be surprised,” he intoned, “I’m around on Fridays, there’s always noise complaints ‘round here.”

You were quiet, unsure what to say or how to detach yourself gracefully. You just wanted to go inside and listen to the radio as you reread the chapter. You smiled nervously and he looked down at you beneath the streetlight.

“I might see you around,” he said, “and don’t mind givin’ ya another ride, ya know? Can’t have you lost in the dark, heh.”

“It’s nice of you, sir, but I’m grown now, I can take care of myself,” you assured him, though you hated how black it got on this side of campus.

“Well, don’t be shy, give me a wave if you see me,” he closed the door as you sidestepped it, “and you have a good night. Get yourself warmed up with some nice tea… though I know you college kids prefer a harder comfort.”

“I don’t drink,” you said awkwardly, “but, uh… good night, officer.”

You went around the back of the car and stepped up onto the curb. You went up to the grated door and fished out your key. You peeked over your shoulder as you unlocked the door and found the Sheriff watching you over the roof of his car. 

He sets you on the bed gingerly, ever the gentle giant. You look up at him in all his glory. He had stripped out of the tuxedo jacked during the reception and was currently laying on the luggage that had been delivered to the hotel early. The fitted shirt hugged his muscles just the right way, the starched white contrasting with the evergreen tone of his skin. He wore his hair braided back, a tradition that spanned centuries. You can’t help but ogle as he kneels down, fitted pants stretched across thick, strong thighs. You’d be out of your dress in a second if you caught a glimpse of his ass. 

You bite your lip as he grips your ankle, hand firm as it carefully massages the tires muscles. Your heels weren’t tall, but they certainly had done a number on your feet between the ceremony and the reception. 

He carefully removes them, setting them on the floor. Your skirts were bunched up slightly, tulle and lace partially blocking your view of him. A light moan leaves your lips as his hands slide upward, working their way to your knees. 

“Feel good?” 

You bite your lip, nodding. 

“You looked like an angel, walking down the aisle.” He parts your knees to settle himself amongst the tulle of your skirt. “I couldn’t stop thinking how lucky I am to have you.” 

You smile, tears threatening to fall from the emotional night you’d had. “Oh Tulgan, you big softie.” He chuckles, the sound vibrating through you. You reach a hand up, tracing a tusk with your finger. “I’m certainly the lucky one.” 

He smiles, eyes scrunching in the adorable way as his arms reach over your dress to wrap around your middle. He presses his forehead against yours, breathing you in. “I think we can call it even and say we’re both lucky.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, sitting up slightly. “Now, I’m sure you’d like to get out of this dress.” 

You nod, groaning slightly. “I was ready four hours ago.” 

You let out a squeak as he picks you up, hands on your waist. He sets you down, back facing him. Dulled claws work at the ties and zippers keeping the dress on. You start to feel slightly nervous again, your brain’s reaction every time something like this happened.

Four years and you still can’t quite shake the self-consciousness around him. You weren’t exactly a supermodel. You were...soft. Tulgan said he preferred you that way, wanting something to hold on to at night. He had spent hours reassuring you of his love for your body just the way it was. 

You had met plenty of orc women in your time around Tulgan, and none of them were exactly supermodels. You try to remember that as his hands release the last zipper and it drops to the floor, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. Tulgan’s hands are warm as they smooth along the skin of your waist, the broad expanse of his body pressing against yours. You can feel every hard muscle against your back, plus something else pressing into the dip of your lower back. 

“Happy to see me?” You ask, fingers splaying out on his smooth shirt. 

He chuckles, the sound almost morphing into a low growl. “Always.” 

Tulgan’s warm breath fans through your hair, still in its updo. You wanted to take it out, but at the same time you knew you weren’t exactly going anywhere. Dulled claws trace along the skin of your stomach, tickling you enough to cause goosebumps to form. You let yourself go, letting your body lean back against the orc behind you. He’s warm, warmer than a human, and it’s comforting to you. You loved his warmth, even in the heat of summer. It was like a comforting blanket, reminding you of his presence. He had sworn to protect you in his vows, and he meant it. 

You turn in his arms, hands smoothing over the broad expanse of his chest. It swells slightly in pride as your fingers begin to work on his shirt buttons. His hands are at your back, claws scratching your skin as he undoes your bra, yanking it down your arms and tossing it across the room. You don’t care to look where it lands, busy sliding his shirt over his shoulders and down his arms. You may have been considered soft, but no one ever said that about him. He was made of hard muscle, a warrior born in a time of peace. His strength was immense, far surpassing your own. You knew he could crush your skull without strain if he wanted to, but the way his hands delicately cup your face tells you he would never do such a thing. 

“I love you.” He says, running a thumb over your lips. 

You smile up at him, standing on your toes to give you as much height as you can. “I love you too.” 

He presses his lips to yours, bending down the rest of the way. His tusks tickle your cheeks, tongue quickly working its way into your mouth. You hadn’t wanted to stop kissing him at the altar, but you knew there would be time for it later. It was now later. 

You grip his shoulders, his hands waiting to catch you as you jump into his arms. His hands grip your thick thighs, holding you easily as you continue kissing him. He tastes musky and like the whiskey he’d drank at the reception before you had left for the hotel. 

He separates your lips as he lays down on the bed, holding you above him. You’re sitting on his stomach, abs flexing as he breathes. Your legs are spread wide across him, the wetness beginning to dampen your panties pressed against his skin, and by the smug look on his face you can tell he feels it. 

“You better lose that smug look.” 

He smirks deeper, hands gripping your waist. “Or what?” 

You give him your own smirk, leaning down to his ear before taking the pointed appendage between your teeth and biting down. He lets out a roar loud enough to shake your entire body, claws digging into your skin, but you don’t care. You release his ear, sitting up with a smirk. He looks utterly wrecked under you: panting, eyes hooded. His hands reach up, cupping a breast in each. He’s wearing the leather beaded bracelet you had made for him as a gift during your courtship, your own leather necklace still around your neck. 

His claws circle your nipples, already peaked, and he’d barely touched you. You know you’re going to get it, having taken a bold move biting his ear. His fingers pinch at your nipples, drawing sweet moans from your lips. He loves hearing the sounds of your moans, like music to his ears. 

You can feel yourself getting wetter, hips moving against his stomach. You can feel the rough texture of his skin through your panties, deliciously rubbing against your clit. He watches you, biting his own lip as he strains painfully against his pants at the sight. You are absolutely beautiful to him. 

His hands leave your breasts, lifting you up slightly, stopping your movement. You let out an adorable whine at the loss of contact, but he inches you closer up his chest until you’re practically seated on his face. You grip the headboard, his hands easily tearing your panties off of you. You can’t bring yourself to care, as his lips are on you instantly. His tusks press against your thighs, scratching against the skin. You know you’ll have plenty of marks from tonight on your body tomorrow. 

His tongue licks a line across your folds, teeth scraping against your clit. Your body jerks in reaction, grinding against his tongue and teeth. Jolts of pleasure shoot through you, your legs shaking from his ministrations. You hold yourself up, partially with the help of his hands on your waist. His tongue is thick and hot as it traces your clit, winding you up towards the edge you can practically see. 

And then you fall over, reaching your first orgasm of the night. 

He laps every drop, licking you clean practically. You feel overstimulated, hips trying to move away from him when he finally lets you go. He holds you against his chest, stroking your hair softly. 

“You good?” He rumbles, claws tracing patterns on your back. 

You nod, fingers playing in the dark hair on his chest. “Yeah. Better than good.” 

He laughs. “I’m just getting started.” 

He takes your hand in his, pressing it against the sizable bulge in his pants. You let out a quiet sound, feeling the hardness against your palm through his tuxedo pants. 

“Well, maybe we should do something about that.” You say, sitting up slightly and undoing his belt. 

He doesn’t stop you, watching you as you undo his pants, his hips lifting to help you slide them, along with his boxers, down his legs. He kicks them off, leaving himself bare to you. He’s huge, hard and leaking against his stomach. You blanch for a moment, wondering just how he’s going to fit inside you. He had to be the size of your forearm, easily. 

You reach out, gripping his length in your hand. You can barely get your fingers all the way around him, his own hand closing over yours, showing you how to grip him. He moves your hand with his, teaching you the rhythm he likes. You catch on easily, working him up more than he already was.

He pulls your hand away before too long, pulling you back against his chest. “You’re in control.” He says, sitting you over his stomach again. 

You gulp, but you’re glad for the invitation. You had never had anyone nearly as big as he was, and you knew it would take a lot to get him in. Regardless, he holds you up, using his strength as you situate yourself over him, easing the tip against you. You slowly press yourself down on him, a burning stretch to fit him even just an inch inside. You brace yourself on his stomach, legs trembling already from the stretch as your body tries to adjust to him. He sits up, wrapping his arms around you, breathing sweet nothings into your hair, praising you. 

You slowly inch yourself down his length, taking him more and more as you adjust to his size. You’re already fluttering around him, feeling close to the edge, and you had just barely gotten started. You hold yourself back, though, gripping his shoulders as you take as much of him as you can. 

He lays back down, gripping your curves with his hands as you begin to move, using his arms for leverage as you roll your hips. He’s so big inside of you, stretching you and hitting every part of you without trying you’re not sure how much longer you’re going to last, and by the look on his face you know he’s not going to last much longer either. 

You push yourself further onto him, taking as much of him as you physically can, his tip hitting something inside you that has you crying out. He groans at the sensation, his hips jerking slightly as you tighten around him. You repeat that movement, hitting that spot over and over, and before you know it, you’re practically seeing stars. He growls underneath you; the sound vibrating through your body as he thrusts up into you a couple times before finishing himself. He’s hot as he spurts into you, a sheen of sweat on both your bodies, but you don’t care, resting on his chest anyway. 

You groan as he slips out of you, a rush of fluid following. You moan slightly at the feeling, his hands brushing over your skin gently. 

“Are you alright, love?” He asks, touch gentle on your overly stimulated body. 

You nod, limp on his chest, limbs like jelly. “Yeah. Never been better.” 

He smiles. “Good. Because we’re not finished here.”