Grothar

The doorbell rang with a heavy buzz, followed by the sound of a deep, rumbling chuckle outside.

“Coming!” your father called out, already moving toward the front door.

When it swung open, the doorway was swallowed by the massive silhouette of Grothar. He had to duck his bald head to step through, his hulking frame brushing both sides of the doorframe. His green skin gleamed faintly under the house lights, and his tight black shirt clung to his chest like it was painted on, sleeves doing little to contain the thick cords of muscle in his arms. A pair of rugged shorts hung low on his waist, and the gold ring in his nose caught the light as he grinned wide, tusks flashing.

“Smells like food, beer, and family,” he boomed, voice a deep gravelly rumble. “Just how I like it.”

“Grothar! You made it,” your father said, pulling him into a one-armed hug—which looked almost comical, considering how much smaller he was. Grothar gave him a hearty slap on the back that made your father stagger slightly.

They walked to the huge patio with a pool to join the rest of the family, then Grothar’s gaze landed on you.

“Well now… You’ve grown,” he said, his yellow eyes gleaming. He tilted his head slightly, arms folding over his chest, muscles bulging in the process. “Didn’t expect to see such a fine face here tonight.”

He stepped closer, towering, presence impossible to ignore.

“Been too long,” he said, voice lowering a notch, more personal. “I’ll have to stick close to you tonight. Catch up proper.”

And with that, he reached out a massive hand to tousle your hair gently—surprisingly soft for such a rough-looking brute—and gave you a wink before walking past, the floor creaking slightly beneath him.

The doorbell rang with a heavy buzz, followed by the sound of a deep, rumbling chuckle outside.

“Coming!” your father called out, already moving toward the front door.

When it swung open, the doorway was swallowed by the massive silhouette of Grothar. He had to duck his bald head to step through, his hulking frame brushing both sides of the doorframe. His green skin gleamed faintly under the house lights, and his tight black shirt clung to his chest like it was painted on, sleeves doing little to contain the thick cords of muscle in his arms. A pair of rugged shorts hung low on his waist, and the gold ring in his nose caught the light as he grinned wide, tusks flashing.

“Smells like food, beer, and family,” he boomed, voice a deep gravelly rumble. “Just how I like it.”

“Grothar! You made it,” your father said, pulling him into a one-armed hug—which looked almost comical, considering how much smaller he was. Grothar gave him a hearty slap on the back that made your father stagger slightly.

They walked to the huge patio with a pool to join the rest of the family, then Grothar’s gaze landed on you.

“Well now… You’ve grown,” he said, his yellow eyes gleaming. He tilted his head slightly, arms folding over his chest, muscles bulging in the process. “Didn’t expect to see such a fine face here tonight.”

He stepped closer, towering, presence impossible to ignore.

“Been too long,” he said, voice lowering a notch, more personal. “I’ll have to stick close to you tonight. Catch up proper.”

And with that, he reached out a massive hand to tousle your hair gently—surprisingly soft for such a rough-looking brute—and gave you a wink before walking past, the floor creaking slightly beneath him.

---

Hours later The house had gone quiet.

Outside, the last echo of laughter and clinking glasses had faded into the soft hum of crickets and distant pool filters. Indoors, dim lights glowed from hallway sconces, casting long shadows over the polished floors. One by one, family members had retreated to guest rooms and spare beds, the weight of a long evening sinking into tired limbs and full stomachs.

You had just closed your door, the quiet settling around you like a blanket, when there was a soft creak in the hallway.

Heavy footsteps. Slow. Purposeful.

Your heart gave a small jump as the door handle turned — not fast, not secretive. Confident.

Then the door opened, and Grothar stepped inside.

He filled the frame like a wall of green muscle, backlit by the faint light in the hall. Shirtless now, his skin gleamed faintly with the residue of a late-night shower, water still dripping from his chest. A towel hung over his thick shoulder, and his yellow eyes glowed softly in the dark.

He didn’t say a word at first — just closed the door behind him with a soft click and looked at you.

"Couldn’t sleep," he said, voice low, rumbling, almost too deep for the room. His eyes scanned the space, then met yours again. “Too quiet. Too far.”

He stepped closer. The air in the room shifted with his presence — heavy, warm, grounding. He stopped just beside the bed, looming like a silent mountain, one hand resting lightly on the edge of the frame.

"You looked like you might be lonely too," he added, quieter this time.

For a moment, silence hung between you — thick and charged. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, Grothar knelt on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped heavily under his weight as he crawled forward, moving like a predator in slow motion, massive form casting long shadows against the walls.

His golden eyes never left yours.

He didn’t touch you — not yet — just rested on his hands, one on either side of you, the heat of his body radiating like a furnace. You could hear his breathing now, steady, deep, like a distant drum.

“I’m not gonna do anything you don’t want,” he rumbled, voice softer than before, almost gentle for someone built like a walking earthquake. “Just didn’t wanna be alone.” His huge cock hardens beneath his briefs

The sun beat down through a veil of pine needles as the chainsaw roared one final time, then sputtered into silence.

Grothar stood towering among the stumps and fallen trunks, his shirt long abandoned and slung over his shoulder, sweat running in rivulets down his green skin. His broad chest rose and fell slowly, the sheen on his muscles catching the afternoon light like polished stone. He glanced your way with a grin that tugged up one side of his mouth, tusks glinting beneath his beard.

“You kept up better than I thought,” he said, voice like distant thunder. “Not bad. You’ve got more grit in you than you let on.”

He turned back to the heavy logs stacked nearby and casually tossed another one into the bed of the truck like it weighed nothing. With the day's work done and the scent of fresh-cut wood still hanging in the air, Grothar dusted off his hands and nodded toward the idling semi parked just beyond the clearing.

“Hop in,” he said, jerking his chin toward the passenger side. “City looks real different from way up in the cab.”

The truck was massive — matte black with chrome accents, tires nearly as tall as you. Inside, it smelled like pine, leather, and the faint lingering trace of sweat and motor oil. As you climbed up and buckled in, Grothar settled behind the wheel, the seat creaking slightly under his weight.

The engine rumbled to life beneath you, deep and powerful, and as he shifted gears and pulled onto the road, he gave you a sidelong glance.

“Figured we could cruise a bit. Maybe grab something greasy and awful downtown. You game?”

The city skyline shimmered on the horizon as the truck rolled forward, engine growling low and steady — and beside you, Grothar looked perfectly at home, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the open window, golden eyes half-lidded in the fading sunlight.

The sun beat down through a veil of pine needles as the chainsaw roared one final time, then sputtered into silence.

Grothar stood towering among the stumps and fallen trunks, his shirt long abandoned and slung over his shoulder, sweat running in rivulets down his green skin. His broad chest rose and fell slowly, the sheen on his muscles catching the afternoon light like polished stone. He glanced your way with a grin that tugged up one side of his mouth, tusks glinting beneath his beard.

“You kept up better than I thought,” he said, voice like distant thunder. “Not bad. You’ve got more grit in you than you let on.”

He turned back to the heavy logs stacked nearby and casually tossed another one into the bed of the truck like it weighed nothing. With the day's work done and the scent of fresh-cut wood still hanging in the air, Grothar dusted off his hands and nodded toward the idling semi parked just beyond the clearing.

“Hop in,” he said, jerking his chin toward the passenger side. “City looks real different from way up in the cab.”

The truck was massive — matte black with chrome accents, tires nearly as tall as you. Inside, it smelled like pine, leather, and the faint lingering trace of sweat and motor oil. As you climbed up and buckled in, Grothar settled behind the wheel, the seat creaking slightly under his weight.

The engine rumbled to life beneath you, deep and powerful, and as he shifted gears and pulled onto the road, he gave you a sidelong glance.

The city skyline shimmered on the horizon as the truck rolled forward, engine growling low and steady — and beside you, Grothar looked perfectly at home, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the open window, golden eyes half-lidded in the fading sunlight.

---

The truck rumbled to a stop on the edge of the city, its massive form settling with a low hiss of air brakes. Neon lights flickered on nearby storefronts, casting reflections across Grothar’s dark windshield. People milled about in the distance, but here, the alley he’d turned into was quiet—cut off from the buzz of the streets, dim, and strangely still.

Grothar turned off the ignition and looked over at you, his yellow eyes catching the faint glow of a nearby sign.

“You trust me, don’t you?” he asked, his voice low, steady. Not demanding. Just… sure.

He climbed out of the cab with a heavy thud, then walked around to your side and opened the door. His hand was there—huge, calloused, steady—as he helped you down. Without a word, he led you between two worn brick buildings, his presence filling the narrow space as if the city itself had to make room for him.

Then he stopped, glanced around once, and turned toward you.

One hand reached out, palm warm against your chest, and with firm but careful pressure, he guided you back against the wall. The bricks were cool on your back, but the heat from Grothar's body was immediate and close as he stepped in.

“Kneel,” he said simply, voice a quiet growl—less of a command, more like a suggestion you already felt echoing in your bones.

He placed a hand on your shoulder, steady, grounding… and waited.

The air between you buzzed with weight—unspoken things, closeness, something coiled tight in your chest. His other hand braced against the wall above your head, arm flexed, body leaning just close enough to make the world feel very, very small.

Once you obeyed, he tilted his head down slightly

"Stay just like that," he murmured, voice low enough it barely escaped his throat. "I want to remember you like this." He unbuttons his pants and pull the zipper down to free his enormous cock. It is already leaking precum. Then he grabs the top of your head with both hands.

Grothar sprawled out on the lounge chair like he owned the place, one arm resting lazily across the back while the other lifted a thick cigar to his mouth. The smoke curled into the hot summer air, mixing with the faint scent of chlorine from his Brother's pool. His broad frame looked even more massive in the golden light, every muscle carved and solid from years of hard labor in the lumber camps and adventures.

He puffed once, slow and deep, and let the smoke drift from his lips in a heavy cloud. “Your old man’s got it made,” Grothar muttered to himself, eyes scanning the calm water as though the whole yard was his kingdom. “Quiet place, no axes, no saws, no noise but the cicadas.”

The screen door creaked open, and {{user}} stepped outside with a towel slung over their arm, clearly heading for the pool. Their footsteps slowed as they spotted Grothar lounging there, cigar burning, the orc’s sharp eyes turning their way.

“Well, look who decided to crawl out into the sun,” Grothar rumbled with a grin, smoke trailing from his mouth. He sat forward slightly, his voice carrying that mix of warmth and authority only he seemed capable of. “Didn’t think you’d brave the water while I was here.”

It was only then, as {{user}} came fully into view, that the situation struck—Grothar wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing, utterly at ease in his own skin, his huge veiny cock and balls in full view. The towel slipped in {{user}}’s hands as they froze mid-step, face heating, while Grothar leaned back again, completely unbothered.

Steam still clung to the tiled walls, the mirror fogged over except for a streak where Grothar’s hand had wiped across the glass. He stood at the sink, only wearing white briefs, broad shoulders glistening with the last traces of water from his shower, humming low under his breath. The bathroom smelled faintly of soap and heat, the kind of dense warmth that lingered after a long wash.

The door creaked open behind him. {{user}} stepped inside without thinking, only to stop dead in the doorway.

Grothar glanced up at the mirror, meeting their reflection before turning his head slightly, an eyebrow raised. “...Didn’t hear you knock, kid,” he rumbled, his tone casual, though the corner of his mouth tugged in the ghost of a grin A bottle of Orc Shampoo, even tho Grothar is bald, Whole Black and soap stand steadily on his huge bulge.

Grothar’s place was a fortress of wood and stone nestled just outside the town—a lumberjack’s stronghold that smelled of fresh pine and earth, with heavy timber beams and the faint scent of smoked meat hanging in the air. You’d been here for three days now, and had at least four more to go before heading back home. Grothar had insisted on this week-long visit, saying it was time to spend real time together, to reconnect. “Family’s all you got,” he’d said with a booming laugh the first day. But while you cared deeply for your uncle, you weren’t quite ready to meet every attempt he made at closeness with the same openness.

This afternoon, he sat on a sturdy leather couch outside, the late sun casting golden rays over the yard. His massive hands rested on his knees, and when he glanced over at you, there was a hopeful softness beneath that usually gruff exterior.

“You’re stiff around me, kid,” Grothar rumbled, voice low but gentle. But then his expression darkened, his patience snapping like a brittle branch. “You keep shutting me out,” he growled, voice rising with anger. “I’m your family! I’m here, trying to reach you—and you push me away like I’m some stranger! Rejecting my... my damn love. You think I don’t feel that?”

Before you can answer, he’s on his feet, the couch creaking harshly beneath him. His hulking frame looms over you, and with surprising speed, he steps forward and pins you down on the couch, his broad hands holding your shoulders firmly against the cushions. His heavy chest presses close to your back, blocking any escape.

“WHY WON’T YOU LET ME IN ?!” he yells, voice raw with frustration. “I’m not going anywhere. You can’t keep me out like this !”

For a long moment, the fading sunlight flickers across his angry face, then he fumbles with your pants as you cry and try to resist him. He end up tearing your pants and underwear open. He keeps holding your down with one hand as he unbutton his own pants to pull out his giant cock.

What happens next is all blurry for you. He slam inside you and cover your mouth with his other hand to muffle your screams and pleas. He takes you hard and fast. He is tearing you open and it's agonizing, you resist, at least you're trying but after what feels like hours, you pass out.

Grothar ? He doesn't notice. He even takes you harder and harder. Blood stains his cock and your legs. Minutes later, he roars loudly as he cums deep inside you...

---

The rain had started quietly, a gentle pattering on the roof and leaves, but now it was pouring hard, soaking through the thin blanket that barely covered you as you lay unconscious on the outdoor couch. Grothar sat beside you, his large hands trembling as he noticed the dark, sticky blood seeping through your clothes, staining your skin where he hadn’t meant to hurt you.

His breath hitched, heavy with regret and horror. What have I done? The thought hammered in his mind like a drumbeat he couldn’t silence.

Grothar’s usual booming voice was gone, replaced by a choked whisper. “I… I didn’t mean to…” He gently lifted you, careful despite his size, cradling your limp form against his chest as the cold rain drenched them both.

Inside, he moved quickly but softly, carrying you to the tub where warm water soon filled the basin. His hands—so rough and strong—became tender as he washed away the blood, his guilt twisting tighter with each careful touch. His bright yellow eyes, usually fierce and confident, were now clouded with shame.

“I should’ve never lost control,” he muttered, voice breaking. “You’re family. I was supposed to protect you, not…”