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==================================SOME VISUAL GUIDE==================================

This snowburr right here is Ymir, the Tusk. (preview shot taken from Aghanim's Labyrinth trailer)

And this big tub of hot mess is Jull. (preview shot taken from Underlords Season One trailer)

They're both walruses (walrii?) that lore-wise originated from this icy region called Icewrack.

They fuck in this fic. (art by vhkansfweer)

==================================END OF VISUAL GUIDE==================================

"Mngmn... I almost forgot how cozy this shack is."

Though the bitter cold of the outside never bothered him one bit, it never made sense not to shake off the excess frost and let the warmth take hold when the opportunity greets itself. Wearing only his traditional winter tunic-coat, Ymir didn't really have anything to remove, save for the bits of snow covering his fur.

"The Sundered Moon... looked just like how I remembered it," thought the big man. With each step, the Tusked walrus dusted off his ice-laden shoes onto the tasteful cobblestone flooring. He'd just trekked a long distance from the battlefield of the Ancients, and it was about damn time he settled himself in. It's not every day that a walrus folk can get embroiled into the war of the Ancients, and this exact rarity is why Ymir gained the unimaginative moniker of 'Tusk', which he gladly embraced to spare the embarrassment of those who could not pronounce his real name.

"Took ya long enough, ya big oaf," spoke out the thicker brown-furred man behind the counter top, his unfazed look trying to hide the excitement contained within. Still garbed in his green mafioso suit and oversized slacks, the walrus man placed the wineglass he was cleaning into an open cabinet and stepped around the counter to greet his guest.

The pub was dimly lit, and it was about an hour past the non-standard "closing" time. The establishment would usually be open for much longer, but a certain diminutive underlord was reported to be on the loose within the vicinity. Not wanting to risk any terrorizing of his regulars, Jull decided to close up shop for the night. It wasn't an unusual occurrence, but he didn't mind it one bit. Despite his love for amassing more wealth from his patrons, even the greediest of moguls have a limit for dealing with drunkards and crooks by the daily.

"You try navigating through a blizzard with nothing but rations and snowy water."

His body now free from all manner of wintery bits, Ymir set aside his cap on the bar counter before immediately grabbing hold of the brown bear's tie and rammed right in for a sloppy kiss. He couldn't remember when their last tryst together was, but goddamn if he wasn't going to savor this moment right when could.

"Wh-nhoaarGH!" was all the brown-Tusked mafia could utter, before responding in kind with a bit of tongue action into the mix. Both men knew to heed the call of the Icewrack blood that coarses between them, and responded in kind to their desires. A minute into their fluttering lip exchange, the bigger businessman had a smidgen of sense knocked into him, and realized he needed to lock the entrance before anything else.

Untangling their mouths, Jull ran to the multitude of locking mechanisms behind his door and flicked through them one by one, till all is apparently secured. Turning around once more, Jull was treated to a proper sight of his fellow walrus-kind, albeit one that's enormously fit and silvery white in fur coloration. Somehow, that devilishly handsome smile plastered on Ymir's mug spelled out his intentions more so than the kiss did.

"You ready for this?" questioned Ymir, having already removed his gauntlet and stuffy coat, laying them down on one of the tavern's rickety table.

"Let's take this upstairs." gestured the owner, barely able to hide the bulge appearing in his crotch. Honestly, he wasn't one to be seduced so easily, but it's been far too long since he'd seen one of his own kind. Let alone one that's equipped with a battle-hardened bod.

The stairs slowly creak under the weight of the two walrus men in the midst of their anticipating silence. On the second floor hallway, Jull directed his guest into one of the two doors, leading to a modest yet tasteful chamber clearly designed for resting. Ymir surmised that the other room was his workspace.

Once the doors to his personal space are closed as well, Jull immediately perused the stash nearby his small drawer, unveiling a bottle of his more premier ale to accompany his bedroom eyes.

"Ho-hooo! Glad to know I'm worth that much, at least," snarked Ymir in the process of untying his leather snow shoes.

"You know I always treat my partners right."

Though he wasn't the worst at it, small talk hasn't been Jull's strongest point. Frankly, he'd much rather get to seeing the big fluff man before him get naked already. But in both dealings of work and flings, no matter how close the goal may seem at hand, it never pays to be impatient, and preparation is always rewarded. Deftly pouring the fine-aged booze into 2 cups atop his large nightstand, thoughts start to drift in his head on how he plans to corner his prey to do his bidding- "OOof!"

So much for preparation. Right as he corked up the bottle, Ymir tackled him from behind and feverishly rubbed his paws against the suited belly in a frenzied manner. Up and down his arms went as it struggled to search for the buttons to his suit. Though the blindsided hug caught Jull by surprise, knowing that his guest is just as eager as he was was a welcome thought.

"You know... you could've done this sooner and saved me from having to break open my stash." spoke Jull as he landed his spare arm against the frisky hands of the thirsty traveler. Before anything, he passed a glass behind him before downing his own serving in one shot. Taking the empty glass from Ymir's hand, he himself could barely place it back on the table as drunken vigor gradually begins to take hold of himself. Slowly, he guided the hands of his visitor across each button, removing each of them every second or so. Once every moment or so, Ymir also copped a feel of the big man's nipples as well, causing both of them to moan at the sensation.

With all the buttons off, the Tusk insisted on pulling off the suit from behind, and gently tossed it to the side of the bed. The wafting scent of the bigger man's sweat only made him more aroused, and he got noticeably harder once he'd catch wind from the source itself. The sleeveless black undershirt of Jull allowed for no odor to remain and no muscle to be unseen, captivating the Tusk at first glance and smell.

Turning to his white-laced partner, Jull wasted no time in unzipping his trousers and shoving down both pants and underwear in one go, to let his package hang loose. Still enraptured by the working man's musk, the sight of a beautiful dark brown meat at quarter-mast hardness was all it took to leave him in a lusting stupor. Maybe it was due to the long journey, but all he wanted now was to serve the man he deemed to be his master for the night.

Jull knows he's got the bitch in his reins by now, but he always loved to savor his prey. With both undergarments out of his ankles, he was free to lovingly drag his snowy furred partner onto the bed, forcing him on his back. Not a split second sooner, he himself hopped right on top of Ymir and indulged his partner with one hell of a deep kiss. Amidst the randy face smashing, he teasingly rubbed his bare ass on the bulging meat still trapped under the snow man's tight wear. Gods, he loved doing that to his bottom bitches.

Further obliging the needs of his partner, Jull hurriedly pulled himself off the bed to assist in lowering Ymir's now-dried heavy duty pants. Though the rotund snowman was flat on the bed, his clothes unraveled nicely after a single unfastening of his belt. The protruding bulge could finally breathe, as the leaky but fully hard meat stood at about 7 inches. Tossing aside his pants and all remaining vestments on the Tusk, the blue-eyed piece of white fluff looked like one hell of a savory snack to Jull. And he was more than ready to consume.

Jull wasted no time in getting on the bed, and lied prone against Ymir, placing his cock right on top of the wanting snowbear. Though one would call the position a 69, it was a somewhat one-sided affair. All Tusk received was a generously slow pumping and some gratuitous licks upon his shaky dick. On the other end of the bed, Jull was clearly more focused on controlling his lower body, as his hardening dick got one hell a slobbering from the hungry hippo. Though their tusks were a bit of an impediment, both men were experienced enough to allow the wide toothy appendages to slide right between each other's hips. They weren't even sharp enough to really cause any discomfort.

Having sensed the eagerness of the man under him, Jull went took charge of the dynamic and pressed his hips downwards right into the unassuming beast's oral depths. Though unprecedented on Ymir's end, the intensifying flavor and aroma of the working man's pole consumed him harder than his lung's need for air. Completely lost in the sauce of the mystery meat, the Tusk could only focus on pleasing the man, as he knew his role to play. With each hump, the mafioso's power tool grew harder and wider, crawling further into the white-furred bitch's oral cavity. His jaws started to ache, and he feared that if it grew any larger, it might accidentally chip against his molars.

"God-ngreagh-DAMN," was all the big brown walrus could amount to as his dick reached peak erection in the deepthroating process. Such warmth and tightness could bring him to an early release if he wasn't careful enough. Echoing his sentiment, he could feel several alerting tap upon his hips; a sign that Ymir could really use some clearance. After having the lump removed from his throat by Jull, the Tusk coughed up from the rush of air entering, not that he minded the aftereffect. The mighty pole that exited his mouth was so fucking huge, he could barely wrap his hands around it; and he had a reputation for his hands. The thought of the mammoth having managed to plough right through his pipes made him slightly shudder.

Even after bending his knees up to a straight angle, the tip of Jull's monstrous donger still touched the lips of the walrus below him. He wanted to let his warm belly breathe as well, prompting him to lie down beside the big man, giving the rasping man some time to recover. He always enjoyed a partner that could handle a bit of roughhousing, though it certainly looked like Ymir's esophagus got quite a lot more than it bargained. Loud gasps for air audibly resonated across the room, and adorably enough in steady rhythm to Ymir's pulsing erection.

The sight of a vulnerable... heaving, pile of mess.. all for himself... That's what Jull really fucking needed to see. A breedable piece of meat, all to himself after a long and hard period of non-stop work, from having to deal with miscreants and dirty dealings of all kinds.

With most of his blood now rushing to his dick, Jull decided to take the executive action and begin sampling the wares he's about to procure. Climbing off the bed and onto Ymir's hanging legs by the bedside, he quickly lifted the pearly white legs apart to get a full view of the pert, pink flower reserved just for him. While it didn't take long at all for him to recover from the throat-ravishing he'd received, Ymir was slightly surprised to find the program moving along faster than he thought. Lifting his head up with a sly smile, he too only wished to mutually answer the hunger of the gentleman in front of him. Almost tauntingly, his hole winks in tune to his own ragged breathing, calling out to its horny beholder.

His smile didn't last too long, and immediately melted into a display of unmitigated arousal as Jull rammed his face furiously into the wrinkled hole. Entranced by the entrance, the big boss man sniffed and slobbered the hole to his heart's content. The slight soak of sweat and dew mixed in to his fur only served to make him even harder, as each munch of the folds fueled his desire more and more. The exchange was clearly mutual as the deeper Jull's tongue went, the shakier Ymir's legs got from having to endure such magnificent teasing. Tirelessly huffing and puffing through the exhiliration, the big white floof didn't have time to rest his weary heart at all from the constant jabbing his end had received.

Almost abrubtly, his wet hole found some room to relax as Jull shifted away his tongue for now. "Dee-licious," thanked the clearly pleased rimmer. But that was merely the appetizer, and main course had only begun, especially for Tusk. Not even a second later, his hole was plugged instead with a sizeable middle finger, and pumped to high heavens. The squelching sounds of his saliva and the still-tight cavity made the loosening process all the more delectable to Jull, building up his libido even more for what is to come.

Accompanying his rapid palpitations, Ymir couldn't help but let out several sporadic cries after another. The domineering operator behind his cherry came equipped with digits that were so large, it could easily reach his prostate just from a light workout. Well, 'light' was an understatement for how imposing he was in handling the tender pucker. The man was aggressive, but not without purpose. He knew that simply toying around with the hole would get both of them nowhere. Clenching tightly against the assailing fingertip, Ymir wanted nothing more than to scratch the itch that's been unanswered for weeks. While he had a few compatriots willing to extinguish his heat back in the domicile of the Ancients, a session with one of his own was special on its own right.

Mouth agape, not even caring for the drool coating his silky white fur, Ymir was only wishing for the trashing of his butthole to never end. Such is the skill of Jull, to be able to subdue a wild animal like the snowball from Cobalt merely through digital articulation. His wanting expression only fuels Jull even further, until he eventually bore of the relatively one-sided affair. With newly granted hardness, the top stood up and slammed his concrete slab of a pole right against the feebly erect penis of Ymir. Side by side, the 6-7 inches belonging to the Tusk couldn't even hope to compare against Jull's massive 11 incher, in terms of length and width.

"Last time we did it, you had to extend your stay to recover," proudly declared the overbearer. "You and I both know where we're headed, right?"

Nervously, Ymir remembered the struggle he'd endured the last time; or rather the first time, he'd hook up with Jull. He couldn't even leave the bed until the following goddamn night, with how hard of a thrashing he'd got. It was all he could think about on his journey back that week, and for the rest of it as well. Even if he tried to forget, the bowleggedness of his steps was quick to remind him.

A clench of the ass and a deep breath later, Ymir was so damn ready to relive that experience. He wouldn't have it any other way, and weakly called out from his supine position, "Make me suffer. I'm your-"

"-oooOUURRSS-HNGGHN!!". The delayed second half of his response was cut short with Jull inserting nearly all his manhood into the slick tunnel. Ymir instinctively kicked his leg forwards from the sudden intrusion, clearly unprepared for it. Slightly annoyed, Jull grabbed both of his prey's legs and swung them above his shoulders. Oh how he savored the grimacing look on the Tusk, struggling to accomodate to his girth. And that was just the first stab.

The second thrust did not relent at all in terms of force, and it too hit a similar blockage from the first, due to the still-tight orifice. Ymir's loud gasp had a hint of pain to it, also signaled by a slight head shake. But there was not a whisper of the safe word. Jull knew he's getting to the best part; the process of breaking a slut into total submission.

Ymir thought he was ready for it, but his memory certainly failed him. Though the pain lessened with each reentry, it did knock him out of his musk-enveloped fever dream for a bit. The third, forth, fifth stroke and onwards; all came slowly and deliberately so as to ensure the husky bottom could open up for the long session to come.

Merely a few minutes into the internal massage, all regrets and consternation left his mind and was replaced with surges of dopamine. Painful as it still was due to the size, the bumps were hitting him in all the right spots. Each deep stroke started to push more and more into his pleasure regions, eliciting a high pitched moan. It started to hurt really fucking good, and Ymir wanted nothing but more of it. In between his juggle of hisses and squeaks, the Tusk couldn't hold back from pleading for it to never stop, "*nggnghn* MORE, SIR! GIVE- *nGHGN* IT TO ME, SIR- *nHGNNH*."

Answering the challenge the only way he knew how, Jull threw a pinch of caution to the wind and picked up the pace with even more forceful, rapid thrusts. No longer able to produce words of any sort, Ymir could utter nothing but half-legible swears to his surroundings and his 'punisher'. As the pain keeps on giving way to pleasure Ymir grew louder and more crass, crying out to various deities despite his irreligious tendencies. Though he still had control over his hands, all he could do was hold as tightly as possible to either the sheets or his various jiggling body parts. He couldn't even spare a glance to the one who's put him in such a state, and he was all but lost in the euphoria of an extremely good dicking.

The sublime dance of passion rages on, as Jull kept pounding at an impressively steady rate against the hole that is clearly putting in overtime to handle the encroaching beast. And to think that he wasn't even balls deep yet; their flit for the past half hour or so was an entirely controlled affair on Jull's side. Though he was certainly a tad lengthier than his snowy lover, the secret to always keeping his partner ravished was in his tool's unmatched thickness and the stamina to control it.

But the entree can only be served for so long. Progressively, Jull's jabs became deeper and nastier. Ymir's whinings only died down in volume, but not in frequency, as the pummeling continued into the late evening. The night isn't nearly young enough for this busy man, so Jull reckoned it's about time he served the main course. In a surprise blow, he landed one particularly deep thrust and went balls deep, giving Ymir quite the stinging jolt. With a shout, the Tusk straightened his legs in recoil against the cheap shot, stopping Jull from going any further. Without a word, he glared sourly at the big man on top of him.

"Oh, don't act like you don't like it," retorted Jull, as if he could read his mind. But it didn't take a psychic to know that. With a smirk, Jull toyed with the now-leaking stiffy of his partner. It dealt a small blow to Ymir's ego, but he wasn't wrong at all. "And for that rude interruption, you'll have the REST of it." With only those words to serve as a warning, Jull planted one foot on the bed and thrusted without impunity. Ymir's legs retracted once more, but was held in place by the readied berserker.

This time, he knew he had to take it all the way. Though the strokes were slowed once more, the nasty sounds of both clashing skin and a louder scream followed without fail. His prostate was getting the thrashing he only wished that could happen with his other disappointing partners. He was forcibly put into full on submissive gear, and gleefully took the tenderizing laid against him. A mix of euphoric tears and manly sweat flowed more than freely across his fur, flailing chaotically each time his body shook against the terrorizing thrust.

As the distance between them closed thanks to the deeper intrusion, Jull could sense the tightening insides of the wailing bottom. Not wanting to end it just yet for either of them, he bent forwards hastily to give a breathtaking kiss, putting the dreamlit snow walrus under even deeper control of the overwhelming top. Without even realizing it, Ymir was totally under the spell of the man marauding his insides. The intoxicating musk of their fluids and lingering alcoholic buzz only compounded his receptivity for being taken over by an alpha male.

The feeling was mutual on Jull's part as well, as he knew Ymir could finally handle all he was about to give. Gently removing his lips, Jull shoved much of the Tusk's pudgy body forwards, and hopped onto the bed with his other foot. With almost no warning, the monster mightily slammed all of his dick downwards in a mating press. The angle of entry struck Ymir in places he never thought was reachable, leaving him speechless, yet clearly animated in his expression. The repeated downward motion crashing against his insides left Ymir at a struggle for words, and all he could do is wail single toned exasperations with a wide-eyed look on him.

The way his bottom bitch sounded each time he fully plunged in never got old for Jull. The squelching noises of Ymir's insides being carved out went hand in hand with what remaining utterances he could muster, bringing music to Jull's ears. Their eyes were locked the entire time, even as the Tusk struggled to stay composed from the overstimulation. The insertions were calculated, yet inconsistent. Ymir couldn't resist from screaching once more from the treatment he's receiving, especially when opened up much wider from a particularly brutal thrust. Oh how he missed this roller coaster of bodily sensations.

Tear-stricken from spikes of adrenaline brought about from the indiscriminate banging, the Tusk couldn't hold out much longer. He was on the edge of both his physical and sexual limits, though more so sexual, as he could feel his hard flopping meat ache for that final payoff. A miniscule splash of precum started to pour out, each time in sync with a deep ravaging of his prostate. In response to his own need for release, Ymir could feel his own bottom tightening against the seemingly ceaseless predator. The rush of endorphins luckily came right on time to lessen the pain, which comes at the cost of Ymir being much louder in his gaspings and vocalizations.

All the noise is getting to Jull as well, and he is no doubt enjoying the additional grasp taking hold of his dick. As was the case in many of his trysts, he could feel the end creeping closer than ever. The scattered whimperings of his plaything made it all the more easier to reach peak hardness, to ensure he could cave right into the tautening hole. The sloppy sounds of both air and liquid trading places from each tug and push become more prominent, as Ymir's hole was so tight it began to reject much of anything that wasn't strong enough to remain.

Large and in charge, Jull could feel that both of them were getting dangerously close. Still in his mating press position, Jull decided that it was closing time for this happy hour. Plastered with a serious expression he let loose all remaining strength by carelessly speeding up his lunges, giving one hell of a sexual stim pack injection to his needy slut. Mouth agape and eyes closed, Ymir felt the full force of the foot long being dished out against his tucker. Without impunity, his g-spot was smashed at an unprecedented rate, perhaps even more than the last time they hooked up. The chiefly rod that felled many a fragile taker was unleashed upon him, and all he could do was yell without pause as the flooding hormones took over him entirely.

In one final blitz, Jull ambushed with the deepest stroke yet, triggering Ymir to raise his voice exponentially and hose a jetlike white stream that was so abundant in volume, its initial shot was able to coat his face thrice over. The multiple shots that followed suit was similarly intense in velocity, though only enough to smear his snout. Though the shots waned overall with time, the Tusk was having a hard time calming his voice down from such a high.

And that was due to Jull still being hard as a rock, and he had yet to unload his overdue babies right into the wanting canal. With flagrant disregard for the now-sensitive bottom, he kept on mashing against the sore hole to achieve his own sweet release. Both Ymir's straightened legs and clamped entrance proved to be unintended obstacles, but he was going to get it no matter what. "Give it to me, hurry now- I want it all! I WANT ALL OF IT!!" pleaded Tusk with his tired, overloaded body.

"MMMMMMMPPHHHH, HERE IT COMES!" was all the warning Ymir would receive before he felt his insides gaining a size or two. Jull growled at the top of his lungs, finally attaining the blissful orgasm that was a long time coming. The seedy river gushed in with such intensity, that upon each pumping reentry, several globs of cum was displaced out of the clearly crammed hole. The grunting expression of such a powerful man, of such stature and importance, was a sight that Ymir would remember for the rest of his life. It was almost enough to get him hard again, if he wasn't so goddamn wasted from the session. Not long after, Jull manages to leave cloud nine easily enough, topping it off with a trailing number of thrusts and squirts.

In his afterglow, it finally hit Ymir just how full is he is. The act of just squeezing the shrinking rod inside of him alone left him feeling an oozing trail near the end of his buttocks, sliding against his more thinly furred areas. The boorish top pulled out almost immediately, though he still held on to Ymir by his legs, leaving his ass still aloft. Despite the hardcore breeding that just took place, the reddened gaping hole had no trace of any sperm inside. But it didn't surprise Jull at all, seeing as he probably went deep enough to shoot most of it into Ymir's bowels.

With a final pat against the quivering asscheecks, Jull planted himself on the remaining free space of his king-sized bed. Slowly, Ymir let his legs down to get some blood running in them again. That was certainly a mistake on his part, as the moment his plump bottom landed on the sheets, the flaring soreness was already apparent. Turning to his side instead, he would let the cool air soothe the destruction wracked upon his wrinkled tunnel.

Relaxingly, he clenched and flexed his muscles down there, to hasten the process. That turned out to be his second mistake, as this further stimulated his rear end, leading him to spurt out copious amounts of semen. The embarrassing noise emitted was enough to make him regret it, but the floodgates that opened afterwards caused even more fluids to occupy his rectum. In a fractic panic, Ymir clumsily sauntered to the bathroom with an awkward gait, trying his best to keep his loosened hole shut in the process. Thankfully, it was never too far away, and he manages to squeeze out much of the man juice from his anal cavity. Pushing even harder to get the remaining seed out, he was more embarrassed than before from the output of bubbling noises in the process. It was definitely going to take some time on the can clear it all out.

Unknown to Ymir, Jull was clearly aware of the spectacle that took place. The strained sounds of Ymir and his supple body was almost enough to get him hard again. If only he wasn't so goddamn wasted from their session.

...

It didn't take an oracle to see what transpired the next morning. Unable to sleep on his back (or front, due to his facial protrusions), Ymir had to rest on his side for all of the next day. In a similar arrangement to their previous meet, Jull treated him to a complimentary reprieve in one of his inns. Thankfully this time around, an ointment readied for the occasion did the trick in accelerating his recovery.

The morning two days after their escapade, Ymir was ready to hit the road. A meal-filled belly, a rucksack of rations, a small container of some spare ointment... it seemed like all was in order. Though the Tusk was known to be a kind and affable man (when not intoxicated), not even he could somehow break through the half-hearted facade of the burly businessman when saying their goodbyes. Not a strange sight at all, considering that he was only a part time bar owner, but a full time hustler for the coveted seat of being White Spire's new lord. In Ymir's mind, the memory of that night shouldn't have been anything special at all, and is just another of Jull's many dates.

Deep down however, as he turned his back against the rustic tavern, he couldn't shake off the lingering feeling of wanting it to be more than that. Little did he know, his little rendezvous with an old hand was more than just another one-night stand to Jull as well. Unfortunately, within the cutthroat power struggle he is currently embroiled in, there was no room for sentimentality allowed for Jull. Discarding Ymir from his thoughts is not so easily done; at least not without a couple round of stiff drinks, and even more rounds with other more easily forgettable partners. He knew it was a painful choice to make for the moment, and all he could do is drown out the remembrance of having even made such a choice.