#tw fake marriage

[mybeautifulbeautifuleternal]

Relaxing against the door jam, you allowed your eyes to survey your family. Finnick had taken the kids out to the ocean today, the weather finally warm enough to allow for a dip in the water. Apparently to your District Four husband, that meant it was a day meant for learning how to swim. You had shot him a look when he asked you to join them — neither of your games had been kind to you and water had been the best way they had hindered you, your district not having the area that would have allowed you to learn to swim young.

Finnick knew you could swim, having taught you himself during the awful days while you were both in the Capital working under Snow, but he also knew that you had no love for it. Not like he did. Evidently, your children had inherited his love of the deep blue and had taken to the water like fish did. Since they had come back from their adventure, you had heard nothing else from them as they stormed the house and settled into the tub to wash the salt water from themselves amidst faint protests.

Despite your distaste for the ocean, you were glad you suggested moving to Four after the war. Finnick’s nightmares had settled drastically when he could hear and smell his home as he slept and it brought to him a peace you hadn’t seen in him before.

It wasn’t exactly shocking, stumbling into a new facet of your husband — your entire relationship had been written, scripted, and directed for pleasure of the Capital — but it was something you thought you should have known. Of course your fishy four Finnick would feel safest on the ocean.

When you had finally figured out what was reducing his nightmares, you had been tempted to smack yourself, so obvious in hindsight was the answer. When Finnick had questioned the look on your face, he had laughed at your answer, muffling it into your shoulder as he caught you in his arms to swing around your kitchen.

The two of you had settled nicely into domestic life, little things like dancing around the kitchen in the early morning sun or washing your kids off after teaching them to swim something neither of you thought you’d ever be able to do. Now it was part of your routine.

Finally pushing off the door jam to stand straight, you knocked on the door to get everyone’s attention. When they all were looking at you, you signed to them “Dinner time.”

Your movements were slow and careful but they were common ones in your household and your family knew Sign enough to know what you said. They had been learning it as they grew up and Finnick had joined in on your lessons as much as he could, so the family was at about the same level of fluency with your language. Acknowledging you, the kids gave you a couple of very enthusiastic thumbs up and Finnick was swift to pick them up to dry them off.

Seeing that your words were being followed, you let them be and started to make your way to the kitchen again to set the table. You could have waited for them to help but you didn’t mind.

It was the little things like cooking dinner and setting the table that calms you down nowadays. Things you didn’t think you’d ever be able to do.

But the war was over and you were doing ok.

@febuwhump

A/N — any blank blogs that follow me are going to be reported then blocked. Pick a different profile pic and get a witty header or something.

#febuwhump #febuwhump2023 #febuwhumpday9 #finnick odair imagine #the hunger games imagine #tw fake marriage #tw voice lost #tw implied violence #finnick odair #the hunger games #my stuff #m’s drabbles #m’s imagines #February Whump

[letters-unsending]

No. 50

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Hero and Villain, fake relationship

////

“How are you feeling, dear?”

“My ears keep ringing,” Hero sighed, tucking his icepack further into his neck, “and don’t call me dear. There’s not a soul who needs to hear that anymore. It’s just us.”

“Oh, it’s just us, isn’t it?” Villain smiled and leaned back their head, as if in bliss. The movement exposed a dark cleft of red. A cut ran like spilled wine down from their lips and to the gully of their clavicle, and it gleamed with a satin sheen, obscenely fresh. Hero averted his eyes.

“Yes, just us,” Hero agreed, indulging in Villain’s cryptic mood, “unless we’ve got ourselves a visitor you’re not telling me about.”

“I would tell you. I’ll always tell you,” Villain turned their head back down, leveling Hero with a stare, “this is our home after all.”

Hero stared back and wondered if his ears were ringing Villain’s words into nonsense. Beneath his gaze, Villain sprawled, languid and liquid as a cat, in their armchair.

They’d bought the chair–a chaise so high-backed it looked like it’d grown wings–the first week of their contract and displaced the original furniture that had come with the pre-furnished house. Quickly thereafter, they’d taken to redecorating the rest of their temporary rooms with utmost fervor. Decor spilled out, the chair its center point: fur rugs, velvet throws, glass-shaded lamps.

“You can keep the house,” Hero blurted, “it's not ours anymore. Contract’s over.”

“My, how generous,” Villain smiled wider, snake-like, and Hero feared they would bleed from the strain, “would you really leave this all to me?”

“Sure, you seem comfortable here,” Hero shrugged, “you put a lot of time into the place. I don’t want to get in the way.”

“You’ve decorated over the past year as well. Don’t give me all the credit, darling.” Villain waved their hand, nails flashing in the light. Following their fingers, Hero recognized his coat tossed over the back of Villain’s chair. Pens and papers, which he’d sworn to clean up, lay sprawled over the oil-dark coffee table.

“I only left a mess. That’s hardly decor.”

“It could never be a mess.” Villain reached a hand back and rested their palm over Hero’s coat. “I enjoy your additions. They make the place feel lived in.”

“Lived in,” Hero echoed, “guess it helped with our cover. Probably made this whole sham marriage look real enough.”

Villain’s face turned flat. The curl of their smile snapped like elastic, pinching into a terse line, and a bead of blood rounded their chin as they spoke.

“Why are you still wearing the ring?”

Hero let go of the icepack and it tumbled into a heap in his lap. “If it bothers you, I’ll just go on and take it off.”

“It does not.” Villain drawled, sweeping out their hand. “I am far from bothered.”

Their ring and its exquisite gem fluoresced upon their finger, a beacon casting its gleam over the mountain of their knuckles.

“It just, you know, feels wrong to take it off after so long.” Hero muttered, squeezing at his wrist. “I even have tanline from it.”

Villain smiled again, soft, but their skin still broke. Blood slipped along the underside of their jaw and Hero swallowed; he could almost feel it roll down his own throat.

“You shouldn’t have taken the bandage off.”

Hero glanced once more at his ring, before pushing himself off his chair. Pain shot like a bolt through his wrist. Staggering, he snagged a tissue from a box on the coffee table and then shuffled toward Villain, who met his approach with gleam in their eye.

“I don’t like being restricted.” Villain explained as Hero propped his hip into the chair arm and leaned over. “I couldn’t speak or move my head with that infernal contraption on.”

“Must’ve been hard for you to be so quiet.” Hero grabbed Villain’s chin and tilted their head back. “You had a long time for reflection in that hospital, didn’t you? Might be why you’re being so odd.”

“I didn’t need time to reflect,” Villain murmured, suddenly quiet, “I have considered this for a long time.”

“And what have you considered?” Hero set the tissue upon Villain’s skin, feigning focus, avoiding Villain’s gaze crawling shamelessly over his face.

“You.”

“Me?” Hero dabbed their throat, careful of the scab. He moved his steadying hand to the side of Villain’s neck.

“The both of us, [Hero].” Villain grabbed Hero’s wrist, draping their fingers and the gleaming ring over his arm, trapping Hero’s touch to his throat. Their carotid pulse drummed against his fingertips. “You see, my dear, I want to keep living in this house. I want to keep my ring. You must understand what I mean when I say this.”

“[Villain], you couldn’t possibly–”

“Will you stay?”

#writeblr #villain #writing prompt #hero #prompt #villain prompt #writing #hero prompt #hero x villain #drabble #fake relationship #fake marriage #hero and villain #heroes and villains #Hero and Villain team up #tw: blood #hero whump #villain whump #idk they’re both in pain

[the-andromeda-effect]

20

TW - abuse mention, violence mention, injury mention, mental trauma, ptsd

Caliban had taken many women to his bed the first night he’d met them, and that was the only night they’d spent together.  Some he’d dated for a while before becoming sexual.  None of those had ever brought about the conflict that he currently felt with Adira as she returned to the bathroom to finish changing.  It was not that there was not the physical desire for her, or that he knew that it would be far more than one night with her, but rather that the physical was so far less important at the moment than making sure that she felt safe and secure mentally and emotionally.  The other could wait, and he would wait, because he knew how wounded she was in all ways. He did not want to add to that in any way; certainly not if there was a chance of losing the way she looked at him by rushing or pushing for anything.  Whenever her eyes and his met, there was something that he could not describe within them, something that awoke a part of him that hadn’t been touched before, and he was finding he liked it.  

When Adira was once more behind a closed door, she leaned against it, holding the PJ pants to her as her heart thudded within her chest.  She had no idea what had made her so bold as to walk over to Caliban like that and just assume he would welcome her touch upon his bare skin and her help in disrobing.  It hadn’t been until she had actually been in the act of doing it that her brain had kicked in.  By then it had been too late and the only thing she felt she could do was continue, and now she was thankful that she had.  Just his initial response of covering her forearms and hands with his own had almost made her knees give way in relief and also a warm and safe sensation that had flooded her whole body.  She craved him in a way that she had never craved Mircea, in a way that she couldn’t even put into words. It wasn't blind lust, it was something deeper. 

From the day that she had met Mircea, she had known that they would be married.  It was why her father had introduced them.  Also from that day, she had alway tried to garner his approval, to please him, to make him proud, to elicit praise.  He had at least pretended in the beginning to be somewhat fond of her and that her efforts were more than enough.  The lack of overt affection understandable due to theirs being an arranged marriage, but it was one he seemed to desire, something that still confused her with how things eventually went.  However, the longer their relationship went, the more it was obvious that she was not who he wanted and that her efforts would never achieve the results that she hoped for.  She had still tried, no matter how many times she failed to live up to standards he seemed to change on a whim.  Up until the day she had been kidnapped, she had relentlessly tried.

Caliban was completely different from Mircea in every conceivable way.  One could say that their marriage was no less arranged than hers with Mircea had been.  It was not built on love, but an agreement to provide for her and keep her safe.  The difference was that even in the beginning of her relationship with Mircea she had not felt as safe and secure with him, nor had she felt as accepted.  Then there was something about the way that she felt when she was held in Caliban’s arms, the way just his voice calmed any fear or anxiety in her, the look in his eyes when he looked at her, his gentle and soothing touch when she was upset or hurting - it was all so new to her;  at the same time, it was like what she had always been looking for in the past, but never found.  

It was in wondering how he had not found a wife previously, with everything he had already shown her of who he was, that Adira came upon the thought that made her stomach turn: what if there were other women he was in a relationship with when he had saved her?  Could she do that again?  Could her heart take other women also being in a relationship from someone other than Mircea?  If there were, could she even do a fake marriage?  Her breath caught and her heart burned at the thought.

By the time that Adira finally opened the door again, Caliban had started to worry if things were okay with her.  The room had been too quiet, and she had seemed to be in there too long.  He had to keep reminding himself not to rush her.  Patience was never one of his virtues, but he knew that if he wanted to unwrap the delicate gift that was the true nature of the woman he now called his wife, he was going to have to learn some.  There was something about her that made him confident that whatever new skills he might have to learn or test he might feel like he was enduring, in the end, it would be worth it.

“Is everything alright?” He finally asked as she silently crossed over to the bed and began to place her jeans in the bag that he had brought up for her.  She hadn’t looked at him when she came out of the bathroom, nor even when he spoke to her, and this concerned him.  Before she’d gone back in, they’d once again been affectionate with one another and she’d seemed to be relaxing.  Had she had another panic attack of sorts?  

Still not looking at him, Adira’s voice came out soft and stuttered, “I hadn’t thought to ask before if…” She paused, gathering the courage to say what had come to her mind as she realized how much she was attracted to Caliban. It was as if the question was stuck in her throat, refusing to come out.  There was a fear of hearing the answer once it did.

“If what, sweetheart?” Calban asked cautiously, as head cantered.  He had heard the hesitation and nerves in her voice.   He pushed off of the dresser he’d been leaning against to walk over to her.  There was definitely something wrong, but he couldn’t figure out what could have changed in just a few minutes.  

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, her head still bowed as if looking down into her bag.  “If you had…someone you were with..you know, when you..we...”  As she let her breath out, she steeled herself for the answer.  Her hands had balled to fists around the clothing she was holding, as if that would somehow protect her from the answer hurting her.  She had known many men who would be with multiple women simultaneously.  It wasn’t like she was naive to the way the world of rich and powerful men who looked like him operated.  Even those who were married often had more than one girlfriend on the side besides their wife. This was often the life wives of family heads led.

So that was the issue that had suddenly come to bother her.  The tension Caliban had been feeling waiting to hear what had upset her faded instantly.   He was glad her back was to him because he could not keep the devilish smirk off of his face.  Not that he was laughing at her, far from it; no, he was delighted that the beauty was concerned that she might have competition for his affection.  To him that meant that she too was starting to feel something for him in the same way he was for her.  Otherwise she wouldn’t care if he was in a relationship with someone else while being fake married to her.  Being fake married to Adira seemed to get better every time he turned around, and now he was going to have at least two weeks secluded with her in a mountain cabin.  Who knew what could happen then?

“And it would bother you if I did?”  The shaky inhale of breath after his question gave him his answer, just before his arms wrapped around her from behind.  She couldn't hide the slight tremble in her body from him, a tremble that he hoped his next words would quell.   Placing his chin on her shoulder, he let his warm breath fan across her neck with his next words, “my darling wife, if there had been, the moment I slipped that ring on your finger they no longer existed.”  He gently kissed the crook of her neck and continued, “there is now, and from now on always will be, only you, unless it is you who wants things otherwise between us.”  Caliban was never one to share a woman, nor did he expect a woman to share him.

As much as his words comforted her, she also felt like they were too good to be real. “Are you sure that you can be happy that way?” Adira was afraid to even hope, even if she prayed, to a god she had long since stopped believing in, that it was true.  She was under no illusion that Mircea had ever been faithful in their marriage, even from the beginning.  He’d always blamed her; of course it was her failure as a wife that led him to have to find others.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”  He kept his chin on her shoulder and laced his fingers with hers now that she’d covered his hands with her own.  Every time he thought he’d figured out how much damage that Mircea had done, something more was revealed.  There was no doubt the coming days and weeks would reveal more, and he would try his best never to repeat those wounds.  If he could, he would instead heal them.  

“Well,I…I don’t know.  I just know that no matter what I tried, I was never enough for Mi-” Suddenly Caliban’s hand was over her mouth, cutting her off as she felt herself fully pulled back against him.  Her eyes closed, her breathing stilled, and she waited for the pain.  Pain always came after the wrong things were said.  Hopefully Caliban would not be as brutal as Mircea had been.  She still ached from being dragged by Kondrat and the abuse in that basement.

banners by: @cafekitsune

#writeblr cafe #writeblrcafe #tw: abuse mention #tw: ptsd #tw: mental trauma #tw: violence mention #tw: injury mention #writeblr #authorblr #writers of tumblr #authors of tumblr #fiction #modern fiction #contemporary fiction #mob fiction #crime family #strangers to lovers #strangers to friends #found family #fake marriage #drama #action #original story #original fiction #original writing #original character #crime fiction #the andromeda effect #my ocs #my writing

[shadowofroses]

going on 5 am thought as I'm half asleep: hm...afab reader can be Asexual or Demisexual, stuck with an arranged marriage with Gojo. But there is no way out of it unless the two of you can prove to be infertile after like 5 years of not having a child.

So, you get married, you're in the bedroom it's locked. Instead you get distracted by Gojo's game collection. You pick up Mortal Kombat. while still in your Hiki-furisode. and raise an eyebrow. "you know if we swear enough at this game while fighting each other if anyone passes up the room they are going to think we're consummating our marriage?" "You...play Mortal Kombat?...Well I pick Scorpion." "Fine Johnny Cage for me~"

So 3-4 hours pass of the two of you playing Mortal Kombat instead of fucking. You're now exhausted enough to go to bed. Gojo thought he wouldn't have an issue and that the 5 years would fly by fast. But Hell, if you play Mortal Kombat with him like this? He's now curious, he might just actually fall for you at this rate.

#tw arranged marriage #tw infertility #TW faking infertility #x reader #Gojo x reader #tw children mention #jjk x reader

[overkill-max]

The Arrangement (1/ 3)

——————

Summary: Cruz and Aaliyah were always destined to meet by bumping into each other. This time, Aaliyah is the one that instigates their meeting because she needs a protector and a friend. Little did she know, she would find more than that in a young marine.

AKA

The Fake Marriage AU

——————

...“If we get married, like the guys were saying, you can live on base with me. Where Ehsan and his men can’t reach you.” Cruz tells her softly.

Getting married means that Aaliyah and by extension, Ayasha, would be safe behind guards and barbed wire...

Read it on AO3

#special ops: lioness #aaliyah amrohi #cruz manuelos #aaliyah x cruz #my fanfic #alternate universe #alternate universe: different first meeting #fake marriage au #there's only one bed #kid fic #angst with a happy ending #tw implied abuse #healing

[theoreticslut]

「 to new love 」

fred weasley x fem reader

summary: you should have bit your tongue, but luckily your best friend is willing to help you out of a hole you dug for yourself. 

requested: written for @onlyfreds​’ 1k writing challenge!

word count: 4.2k

warnings: marriage/wedding, brief mention of alcohol, mutual pining, pet names (princess, darling, baby, pretty baby), bed sharing, love confessions, heavy use of physical touch

a/n: ahhhh! not gonna lie, it’s been a hot minute since i’ve written anything for fred - which is weird bc i was writing a ton for him at one point. anyways, here’s a cute little wedding-set fic with the tropes ‘fake dating,’ ‘only one bed,’ & the prompt ‘are you even listening to me?’ i will admit this is also a college au, and a slight modern au fic, but it is what it is. it works, so hopefully you all enjoy it! Xx

If you could go back three months in time and slap yourself, you would. If you just hadn’t said anything when your cousin was going on about it ‘being okay that you’ve never dated…even though you’re 21,’ you wouldn’t be in this position.

You wouldn’t be sitting here in one of the many lounges on campus, leg bouncing as you chew on your bottom lip. You certainly wouldn’t be sitting here entertaining the idea of simply finding a fake boyfriend for the weekend.

Too lost in your worries and trying to find a solution, you completely forget that you’re sitting with your best friend. That is until you hear your special nickname. The one only he is allowed to call you - princess.

Looking up at him, all you can do is hum, eyebrows raised as you try to recall what he said, but unfortunately the words completely fail you. You hadn’t been paying attention in the slightest.

“I said that you’re going to chew your lip off if you keep doing that.” Fred chuckles, shaking his head as you duck your head slightly.

“What’re you thinking so hard about anyways?”

“Nothing. I just…I said something really dumb a few months ago and it’s biting me in the ass. Violently.” You sigh, frowning as you bounce the pen you’ve been holding between your thumb and forefinger.

How could you have been so stupid? Was it not embarrassing enough to not have a boyfriend already? Did you really need to add to it by agreeing to bring the boyfriend you don’t have to the wedding as your date?

“It can’t be that bad. We all say stupid shit, princess.”

“Have you ever told your family you’d bring your boyfriend - that you don’t have - to a wedding?” You counter, positive he’s never said anything quite that stupid.

“Well, considering I’m into girls…no.”

You can’t help but groan as Fred jokes, laughing with a wide smile as you roll your eyes.

“This isn’t funny, Freddie! The wedding is this weekend and I couldn’t be more single if I tried.” 

“Do you think I’d be able to get one of those, like, male escorts on such short notice?” You question, completely serious as you think of anything you can do to save yourself the embarrassment of showing up to the wedding solo.

“I’m not even sure they have anything like that around here, darling.”

“They don’t have to be local. As long as they’re willing to travel, I’ll take them.”

“You’re serious?! I thought you were joking. You’d really hire some stranger online to play your boyfriend for the weekend?”

You nod, shrugging your shoulders. If that’s what it takes, then yeah. You’d do it.

Watching you, all Fred can do is half laugh, half scoff as he shakes his head. He can’t believe you’d actually hire a stranger instead of admitting you’re single - even if you made up some excuse for it like you and said boyfriend recently broke up.

Fred hasn’t known you terribly long, only since you met in an intro class about a year and a half ago after you transferred here. However, he has learned in that relatively short time that you wouldn’t be freaking out if the issue wasn’t important to you in some way or another.

“Save yourself the money, princess. If you’re really that desperate for a plus one, I’ll go.” He huffs out a little chuckle, smiling nonchalantly as he pretends to focus on the book he’d been reading for class.

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah. I mean, what’s a weekend away from campus with wedding cake if not a small piece of heaven?”

“You realize you’d be my boyfriend for the weekend, right? Like we’d have to act like a couple?”

“Yeah? Can’t be that hard. We are friends, aren’t we?”

“Well, yeah, but…Fred we’d have to like…kiss, and hold hands, and whatnot. You’re okay with that?” You question, not sure he knows what he’s signing up for. 

You’re not against him being your faux boyfriend, but you need to make sure he’s okay with it all. Sure, you’d have to try harder than normal to keep your feelings for the redhead hidden, but it’s only three days. You’re sure you can manage.

“If it’ll make this weekend easier for you, then yeah. I mean, we’ve held hands before, and it’s not like we’d be the first friends to kiss.”

“I guess…” you mumble, brows furrowed as you try to imagine kissing Fred. 

Although it’s rather easy to picture kissing him, it’s hard to picture it being just a favour for the weekend. You don’t think you could kiss him with no feelings attached, which makes your stomach flip. It would be easier, and probably more comfortable, if Fred played your boyfriend though, the potential mess of emotions be damned.

“Alright. If you’re sure, then let’s do it. Let’s be a couple for the weekend, Freddie.”

~.~

You can’t help but tap your fingers, rather vigorously, against the steering wheel as Queen plays through the radio. It’s been about three hours since you and Fred got on the road, and every mile that you get closer, the more nauseous you get.

This needs to work. You need your family to believe that you and Fred are dating, and have been for some time. 

“Take a breath, princess. You look like you’re going to be sick.”

“I just might.” You retort as your stomach thrashes with nerves. 

“Do you really think they’ll believe us? Like, maybe we should go over our story?” 

“I think we’ll be fine, princess, but if it’ll help calm you down, then sure. Let’s go over our story.” Fred smiles, placing a hand on your thigh to comfort you.

His touch does help to comfort you, especially when he starts rubbing his thumb over your clothed skin, but it also happens to make your stomach flip more. Not to mention that his touch makes your heart beat wildly. 

You rarely admit it to yourself, and even less so to anyone else, but you do have a crush on your best friend. A massive, ‘I want to hold you and kiss you and do what other couples do’ crush. How cliche is that? 

It’s not like you can help it though. He’s insanely attractive, and he’s got an alluring personality. Not only is he kind, and funny, and considerate, but he knows how to be fun while still taking things seriously. He makes you feel at home in a place that couldn’t be farther from one, and even then it’s the thought of him that makes you feel at home in your childhood house. 

“Yeah? Alright, uh, where do we start? Should we go over how we met, or?”

“You know that we don’t need some elaborate lie, right? We can use some of our actual friendship as the basis of this fake relationship.”

“I know that.”

“Do you? Tell me then, how did we meet, princess?”

“You sat next to me in Cognition.”

“Good. Do you remember how we started talking?”

“How could I forget, Fred? You asked me for a pen and then proceeded to flirt with me.” You laugh, shaking your head at the absurd idea of you ever forgetting that.

There you were, sitting in class and already anxious because you were afraid of not making friends, when this breath-taking redhead sat next to you. You could tell how attractive he was with a single glance, and that only made you more anxious. Talking to those you found attractive has always been hard for you, but luckily he made the first move.

“Yeah, but it made you laugh, did it not? I swear to god, I could feel how anxious you were as soon as I sat down.”

“Surprisingly, it did. I’m still not sure how I got the courage to talk to you.”

“However you did it, I’m glad.” 

You glance over at him as you chew on your bottom lip, finding a smile resting happily on his lips.

“Me too.” You murmur, being a hundred percent honest. Befriending Fred has been one the best decisions you’ve ever made.

“So we have how we met covered. How long have we been dating?”

“Uhm, well it’s been four months since I told my cousin I had a boyfriend…”

“…and I’d made it sound like I had been with someone for a little while before I told her so…I don’t know? Five or six months?” You suggest, cocking a brow at Fred for his opinion.

“Let’s say six months then. That way it lines up with when we went ice skating together. You remember that?”

“Yeah. You’d ask me to open skate - which I sucked at, by the way. Afterwards we went out to McDonald’s and sat in the parking lot eating and talking for, god, seems like hours.”

“Mhm. You shared a lot about your family that night, and even some of your deepest thoughts.”

“I did, and you didn’t make me feel silly or less than for them.”

“I never once even thought about doing so.” He comments, patting his hand against your thigh gently.

“I really appreciate it.” You murmur, feeling your cheeks warm up slightly as you keep your focus on the road, too afraid to look over at him.

In your peripheral, though, you catch him smiling and nodding as he squeezes your thigh to let you know he heard you.

~.~

The wedding is in an hour and you still don’t feel ready. Aside from sleeping in later than you had wanted, you don’t feel comfortable or pretty in the slightest. On top of it all, though, you feel your heart racing as your entire being feels jittery - your nerves ravaging your mind and body.

“How’re you doing in there, princess? We should probably be leaving soon, yeah?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we should. I just…” you trail off mid sentence as you click your tongue, walking out into the shared room.

“Does this look okay?” 

At your question you feel Fred look up at you from the bed the two of you shared even as you stare at your reflection in the hallway mirror. 

A moment seems to pass without a response, which makes your heart race even more. You should have brought a second option, but you decided against it.

“Fred? It looks awful, doesn’t it?”

“No…no. You look, you look amazing, y/n.” Fred murmurs, and you finally take a moment to look at him.

He seems completely enamored with your appearance, which warms your cheeks and chest ever so slightly. You’ve never been one that boys look at, or at least you’ve never been one to notice if guys look at you. With the way Fred’s eyes carefully trail down your body, though, it’s hard to miss his adoration-tinged shock.

“Really? Well, uh, thank you.” You softly reply, your cheeks burning as you shy away from his gaze.

“We should get going then. I figure if we get there a bit early we can hopefully find a decent seat.”

As you talk you start to bounce throughout the room as you grab everything you need - last minute jewelry, perfume, phone, keys, etc.

“I’m pretty sure the wedding is only supposed to last like a half hour, but then there’s the reception which is a little bit of a drive.”

“They’ll be having a little cocktail hour with some snacks before things really get started, though. Oh! I need their gift. Is that still in the car?” You question, pausing your pacing as you look at Fred.

“Are you even listening to me, Freddie?” 

“Hmm? Yeah. ‘Course I am.” 

You can’t help but sigh lightly as you shake your head with a soft smile. You’re 95% sure he hasn’t heard a word you spoke since asking about your appearance. He was far too blank-faced and hazy-eyed to have been paying attention.

“Is their wedding gift still in the car?” You reiterate, deciding against teasing him for being distracted. 

In all honesty, the fact that he was distracted by you makes you feel giddy. Maybe there’s a chance that you’re not the only one in this friendship that has feelings. Not that you actually believe there is such a chance, but it’s a nice thought.

“Yeah. I left it on the back floorboard where you had set it.”

“Okay. Let’s go then, yeah? Time to try to fool my family.”

Fred nods, smiling as he gets up from the bed, adjusting his dress pants and button down shirt. He even finished off his outfit with a tie, which you have to admit really brings it all together. He looks good. So good that you’re not sure how you’re going to pretend that the fawning you’re sure to do is simply an act. 

Regardless, you don’t let yourself worry about it as Fred wraps his arm through yours, making you giggle as he leads you out of the hotel room. This - “dating” your best friend - is definitely better than hiring some stranger online.

~.~

“Y/n! I’m glad you could make it.”

You smile as your cousin comes up to where you and Fred are standing by the bar, a smile on her face as she hugs you. Even though you had dug yourself a hole for this event, you have to admit it is a rather wonderful evening. It’s even better to see her so happy, though.

“You knew I would. I wouldn’t dream of missing this.”

“I know, but it’s still nice to see you.”

“It is. Feels like we only really see each other at big family events like this. I’m so happy for you though. The ceremony was beautiful.” You smile, fidgeting with your fingers holding your champagne flute.

Fred notices you getting anxious, so he brings his hand up to rest on your waist in a small act of comfort. It definitely helps, especially when he gently rubs his thumb in small circles over your dress. You’ll never be able to thank him enough for this weekend, nor will you ever be able to convince yourself that this is all just an act.

“Thank you. I’m glad it wasn’t too long or anything.” she smiles and you nod.

“Definitely. It was nice. Perfectly short and sweet.”

“Kinda like you, huh?” Fred murmurs, leaning in so only you can hear him.

You can’t help the shy smile and warmth that settles on your face, chewing on your lip as a means to keep yourself in check. Although it makes complete sense for him to act flirty with you, for some reason your mind completely skipped that thought meaning you were, woefully, unprepared for such words and the way they’d affect you. If you make it out of this weekend alive, it will truthfully be a miracle.

“Oh, uhm, y/c/n this is Fred. Fred, y/c/n.” You introduce the two, Fred holding a hand out to greet her as she smiles.

“Nice to meet you, Fred.”

“You know, y/n, I hate to say I didn’t actually believe you at first, but you two…you’re cute together. I’m glad you’ve found someone to make you happy.”

“Thank you. He, uhm, he does make me really happy.” You stammer, feeling your heart skip a beat as you look up at the redhead to find him already looking at you.

“I’m glad. You deserve it.”

You nod, smiling a little wider as you turn your attention back to your cousin, trying to ignore the heavy weight settling on your chest that makes it hard to breathe.

This isn’t real. You’re lying to everyone, including yourself and Fred. Fred believes that all of this - your words, behaviour, everything - is simply for show, but it’s not faked in the slightest. You like, maybe even love, him at this point. There’s no way you can easily go back to just being friends after this. Not when you have a taste of what it’d be like to be his girlfriend, for real. 

~.~

“Are you getting tired, princess?” Fred murmurs, his breath warm against your skin while his hands sit around your waist as the two of you dance to a slow song.

It’s been hours now since the wedding, and although it’s been fun, you’re exhausted. The two of you have done more than your fair share of dancing. On its own, dancing is tiring, but you’ve done all of it in heels. You could easily pass out in bed right now.

“A bit.”

“Just a bit?” He teases, a smile settling on his lips as he chuckles, watching as you roll your eyes with the tiniest smile on your lips.

“I think it’s time we get back to the hotel. What do you say?”

All you can manage is a hum and slight nod of your head in response, drawing a soft chuckle from Fred as he helps support your weight. He’s seen you tired before, and while he has always found it endearing, being the one you rely on in your exhaustion is an entirely different feeling. 

It’s difficult to explain, but it’s almost like his heart is inflating far past its limits. It’s hard to breathe steadily. It’s nearly impossible to wipe a smile off his lips. Not to mention the fact that he just wants to hold you and never let go. 

“We gotta say our goodbyes first, Freddie.” you inform, absentmindedly sighing at the thought of having to do anything else.

“Then let’s do that, yeah? You’re exhausted, darling.”

You can’t suppress the smile that quirks your lips at the pet name, but you can’t manage to say anything. Instead, you work on mustering up any energy you have left to be able to say goodbye to those of your family that remain at the reception.

As soon as you’re done wishing everyone goodnight, Fred helps you out to the car, wrapping an arm tightly around your waist. He’s honestly been the perfect boyfriend today, and you desperately wish you could just keep this going. Do you really have to stop pretending to be in a relationship after tonight? 

“You’re thinking awful hard over there, princess.” Fred points out as he drives through the city towards your hotel.

“Am I?” You tease, drawing a smile to Fred’s lips.

“Mhm. Wanna share what’s on your mind?”

“Just been thinking of today, Freddie. Thank you. For doing all of this, I mean.”

“Of course, princess. You’re my best friend. I could never leave you hanging in times of need.”

“I still appreciate it, though. I truly don’t know how to thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve already got some ideas for you.” He mumbles, a smile evident in his voice.

“Yeah? What would those be?”

At your question, all Fred can do is smile, which makes you smile but leaves you confused all the same. 

~.~

“I don’t wanna change, Fred. I’m so tired.” You nearly whine in reply to his suggestion as he taps your leg that’s hanging off the bed. 

“You’ll sleep better if you do, though, princess. If you’re so tired, I can help you?”

“Would you?”

“Mhm. Long as you’re okay with it.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay with it, Fred. ‘M so tired. Don’t wanna move.”

“I know, princess. It’s okay. Just gotta tell me where your things are.” Fred coaxes, pushing some hair out of your face.

“In my bag on the desk.”

You watch him nod, a soft smile on his lips as he gets up to grab your pajamas. As he digs around, you gather just enough energy to push yourself up from the bed so you can shuffle to the bathroom. Although it really doesn’t faze you, you figure it’d be better if you took your makeup off and undid your hair instead of sleeping in it all.

“You alright, darling? You disappeared on me.” Fred questions, leaning on the bathroom door frame as he watches you in the mirror.

“Mhm. Jus’ taking my makeup off, Freddie.”

“Alright, baby. I’ve got your pajamas right here when you’re ready.” 

You nod, the traces of a smile on your lips as you watch Fred through the mirror as well. He takes a moment to watch you as you wipe at your eyes, but then he’s moving to stand behind you, snaking his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“You’re really quite beautiful, you know that?” He murmurs, his eyes still on your reflection.

Humming, you go to shake your head but he stops you before you can. Squeezing you in his arms, he turns his head to bury his face in your neck.

You can feel his breath against your skin, and for a moment it feels like he wants to kiss your neck, but he never does. Instead he turns his head to look at you in the mirror again.

“You are. Never say it because I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but you are.”

“You’re beautiful all dolled up like this, but you’re beautiful in sweats and a messy bun as you sit in class, too. You’re just…really pretty, darling. A pretty baby.” He sighs, meeting your eyes through the mirror, holding your gaze for a moment as you study him.

He’s never this soft and vulnerable with you, but you’re not complaining. It might make your heart race inside your chest, but you don’t mind one bit, not when this is exactly what you’ve been wanting for nearly a year now.

“The wedding’s over, you know. You don’t have to be so sweet on me, Freddie.” You mumble, not really wanting to break whatever this moment is, but you find it hard to let yourself fall into any unnecessary sweet talk in case he’s still just playing. You can’t handle getting your heart broken by your own hands.

“What if I want to be sweet on you?”

“Then I guess I can’t stop you.”

“Good, because I don’t wanna stop. Not yet.” he murmurs, arms still wrapped tightly around your waist as he watches you through the mirror. 

You’re almost afraid that he can read each and every one of your emotions, but if he can, he doesn’t say anything. 

“You wanna get changed now?”

“Yeah…Can you, can you undo my dress? It was such a bitch to get on.” You huff, making him chuckle as he nods, a wide smile on his face.

“‘Course, princess. Move your hair f’me.”

There’s no stopping the shiver that runs through your spine as Fred unzips your dress, carefully pushing the straps down your shoulders as you try to keep your breasts covered, having forgone a traditional bra for the day.

Fred helps you pull your sleep shirt over your head, assisting you in getting your arms through the holes as you hold your dress up. The last thing you want to do is flash Fred right now.

Within a few minutes, though, you’re out of your dress and in your pajamas, slowly trudging your way to the bed as Fred changes his clothes. 

Although you and Fred shared the double bed last night, something feels different tonight as you wait for him to crawl under the covers. Maybe it’s the way he’s still acting so sweet on you, but maybe it’s your own wish to not yet stop this act. Whatever it may be, it makes your palms sweat and body jitter.

“You’re not sleeping yet? Thought you’d be passed out by now.” Fred comments as he makes his way to the bed, turning off lights as he goes.

“Were you waiting for me, princess?” 

“Not really. Just trying to get comfy.” You mumble, not necessarily lying as you watch him climb into bed, pulling the covers over himself after getting comfortable.

Facing you, you watch as a little smile sits on his lips, his eyes seeming to scan your face. What he’s looking for, though -  if he’s even looking for anything to begin with - is past you.

“Can I tell you something, princess?”

“Mhm.”

“I like you.” He admits, voice soft as the two of you nearly stare into each other’s eyes.

“You…like me?”

“Mhm. Have for a while.”

“Truthfully, the entire reason I offered to be your boyfriend for the weekend was so I could pretend you were mine for a day. Is that bad?” he questions, searching your eyes for any sort of answer.

“Can I tell you something?”

“‘Course, darling.”

“I like you too. Have for a while.” You murmur, smiling as you copy his words while a heat creeps up and over the apples of your cheeks.

At your admission, a smile grows on Fred’s face before he’s wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. A small shriek leaving your body as he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead with little hesitation.

Without it being explicitly said, you know that you’re his, just as much as he is now yours. Truthfully, this is the last thing you expected of this weekend. Out of all the possibilities you pictured, not one included Fred admitting his feelings for you. Sure, it may have been a daydream, but you never thought there was a chance of it happening. 

It’s a little ironic how it took a wedding for the two of you to take that first step, but maybe someday down the road you won’t simply be attending a wedding as a fake couple, but rather as bride and groom.

------------------------------------------------

pls like & reblog if you enjoyed!

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#onlyfreds' 1k wc #harry potter #harry potter fanfic #hp fanfic #hp fluff #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fluff #fake dating #only one bed #modern au #college au #tw wedding #tw marriage

[dramioneasks]

Recompense - quicknotesquim - E, 32 chapters, Words: 121,072 - Since the war, Hermione has hidden away from the world, striving to restore her parent’s health using ever-darker magic. Draco, an ex-con and outcast, spends his nights chasing leads in an attempt to solve a heinous crime. After nearly a decade of dead ends, they meet again, only for their mutual secret to be unearthed — one that changes everything. With any luck, this unlikely pair will put their pasts behind them and discover love is worth the risk.

#author: quicknotesquim #dark magic #meet again #tw: violence #grangers #theo #blaise #pansy #goyle #daphne #luna #hermione: grey #forced marriage #psychological trauma #hermione's pov #draco's pov #side pairing: pansy x luna #wandless magic #fake relationship #Progressive Relationship #smut

[a-secretkey]

jiuni._.v

Perfect Marriage Revenge (2023) behind the scenes.

#bang sung hoon #sunghoon #perfect marriage revenge #kdrama #tw fake blood #hairstyle #mua #makeup #korean

[iheartbookbran]

what is the simon incident in s1? i consider watching bridgerton but i wanna be prepared

Hello anon I’m so sorry for the delay in my reply. Hopefully I will be able to post more on this blog for now on.

Okay, so be prepared for some heavy spoilers from season 1 of Bridgerton under the cut, as well as explicit mentions of SA as depicted in the show and book.

I think the whole Simon r*pe scene is a complicated thing to tackle properly. I’m not even sure if I’m the right person to do it, but I will try my best. I think in general, Simon and Daphne’s sexual relationship and the way they enter into it is deeply problematic. Like, from the very start.

Some context first: in the story, Simon and Daphne are both backed into a situation in which they have no other option but to get married [insert a bunch of sexist bullshit reasons here], and although they both are clearly attached to one another, they each have individual issues that prevent them from having a healthy sexual life as a couple. Simon has dramatically vowed to his father that he would never get married of have any children to pass down his family name and wealth, and Daphne doesn’t even understand what sex is.

No, really. She gets married without knowing how sex works, but Simon does have sex with her anyways, and because he doesn’t want to have children, lies by omission to her and uses the pull-out technique to avoid getting her pregnant (which, makes him a fucking idiot, if you ask me, and chances are he was going to get her pregnant at some point either way, but I digress), without actually explaining to her what he’s doing, and telling her they won’t be able to have children because he is “infertile”. That to me kinda taints the relationship from that point onward, because Simon is basically coercing Daphne into having sex without giving her all the information about their reproductive precautions (or lack thereof), or y’know, how babies are made in the first place. Now I wanna make it clear that by explaining this to you I’m not trying to justify what Daphne does to Simon next, but I want to give some context so that I can properly explain why Shonda Rhimes and Julia Quinn, the creator of the show and author of the books respectively, don’t see what Daphne did as that big of a problem.

The r*pe scene itself plays a little differently in the show and the books, though the build up to it is basically the same. Daphne finds out how babies are made and discovers that Simon has been lying to her by omission for months and gets (rightfully) angry, so she decides that the only reasonable response to this is r*ping her husband as a way of regaining her agency (???). That’s not me making shit up, it’s literally the logic SR and JQ, and also Chris Van Dusen, the show runner, used for including the scene at all (watch at min 7:30. Also, see, told you the build up and context to that scene was important!).

Now in the show Daphne goes to Simon after she premeditatedly decided to r*pe him, starts to have sex with him and then forces him to ejaculate inside of her (I don’t want to go into too much explicit details, but yeah). In the book Daphne doesn’t exactly plan on r*ping Simon, but after he drunkenly stumbles into their bed at night wanting to have sex, she agrees and then also forcefully makes him ejaculate inside her. In both cases, Simon is understandably very distressed by the situation but never receives any kind of apology or resolution for what happened, and rather he just kinda gets over it eventually.

Honestly, I’m constantly changing my mind about which one of these two versions of events is worse, but I think we can all agree both are objectively very fucked. Like, yes, Daphne, as a woman in 19th century England, is wholly dependent on her husband for literally every aspect of her life; that’s messed up and there’s nothing wrong with wanting to explore that as a theme. But the answer for her gaining agency shouldn’t be… fucking r*pe.

What’s even more frustrating to me is that it did not have to be included at all. They could’ve just as easily have the scene be about both Simon and Daphne getting drunk and having sex and in their recklessness Simon forgets to pull out and freaks out, which in turn helps Daphne realize that the suspicions she’s been having for some time now are actually true, so when she takes a stand against Simon we as an audience can actually get behind her.

(And I know what some might say: female characters should be allowed to be flawed and that we don’t need to always be on their side. That is correct. But, first of all, you don’t necessarily have to turn them into r*pists to make them complicated, and second, if you do, at least let them own up to it and don’t have the narrative frame them as the victims and justify all of their actions. I feel like the show is doing a better job at this with the character of Penelope than they ever did with Daphne, i.e., what Penelope does is shitty and her actions are presented to us as such, she even suffers consequences!).

Then to finish all of the above add in the fact that in the show Simon is black. Now obviously Simon being a white man in the book doesn’t make what happened to him okay, but I think the optics become increasingly uglier when you present it as a black man being SAed by a white woman and then the narrative putting the blame squarely on him while the white woman is presented as the real victim and she never has to apologize or make up for her actions. Just my two cents.

This isn’t the only time the Bridgerton franchise depicts SA against specifically black people. This happens in the spin-off show, Queen Charlotte, in which one of the few black female characters is repeatedly maritally r*ped by her husband while some goofy ass music plays in the background. Ugh.

Anyway, thank you for sending me this ask! This is a topic that I’ve wanted to talk about for some time now and I hope I did so with sensitivity. I’m not necessarily saying that Bridgerton has no redeeming qualities as a show, but these are important aspects to take into account if you wanna get into it. It’s definitely my biggest pet peeve with the show, to be honest. Season 2 is lit, though, even if the writing is messy.

#Anonymous #ask #ask pam #the worst part is that like. i DON’T dislike simon and daphne as a couple #at least not in their pre-marriage stage #they have chemistry and genuine friendship and a great dynamic #fake dating and my brother’s best friend??? what’s not to like??? #and then they had to go and ruin it #tbh if they’d left it as an asexual relationship i think it could’ve been great lol #daphne bridgerton #simon basset #bridgerton #bridgerton spoilers #bridgerton books #meta #my meta #i think? #again sorry for taking so long to respond #tw rape #tw sex assault

[bridgyrose]

Oscar hands Ruby a small child, telling her this is what her eyes did to Salem. It's her choice how to handle it. Cinder sees this and gets jealous and tries to steal the child. Things happen, a wedding is now on the books... everyone wonders what fickle gods are fucking with them today.

Disclaimer! What's under the cut is the start of something that is going to get into the start of a lot of abuse. If abuse is not something you're okay with reading about, walk away now.

Ruby froze as she held the small, purified baby Salem close to her chest and looked down at the blade just centimeters away from her cheek. Her voice stayed steady as she spoke, silver eyes looking into Cinder’s golden eyes that seemed to cut deep with their glare. “I dont know what you want-” 

“I want her.” Cinder slowly moved her blade down to point at the child Ruby held, eyes steady as she kept focus on Ruby. “I want you to give me Salem.” 

“You know I cant do that. She needs to get to a good home.” 

Cinder brought her blade to Ruby and pressed the tip of the fiery sword to her check. “And you think you’ll be a better home for her? You dont understand her!” 

“I dont want raise her either!” Ruby said, pausing for a moment as she realized her voice had raised. She made a quick glance at the sleeping baby and relaxed for a moment when she saw she hadnt woken Salem up. “But I was trusted to keep her safe until I can find someone who can raise her. I’m still not sure how I’ll figure that out, but I will.” 

“And I’m not going to let you send her to an orphanage.” 

“I might not have a choice!” 

Cinder slowly lowered her blade and grinned as she took a step closer to Ruby. “If that’s what you think, then I’ll show you what it really means to not have a choice, Ruby.” 

Ruby had no time to question what Cinder meant, feeling the hot blade in her arm. She let out a muffled scream as she did what she could to keep from waking Salem, wincing as the blade was pulled out. 

“I could kill you now and take Salem from you, but I think I have something else in mind that’ll work to my advantage.” 

“And… what exactly… is that?” 

Cinder pulled Ruby close and whispered into her ear. “You are going to be my wife.” 

“And if I dont agree?” 

Cinder slowly started to heat up her hand as she held Ruby’s arm, her voice turning harsh as she spoke. “Do you really think you can stop me now that I no longer have the grimm in me? Either you follow through with what I say, or I reduce you to ash and take Salem with me anyway. Got it?” 

Ruby sighed and pulled her arm away from Cinder, slowly looking at the red burn mark. “Fine…” 

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What do you mean you’re getting married?!” Weiss asked angrily. “And to Cinder? What are you thinking?!” 

Ruby forced a smile to Weiss and did her best to keep herself calm. “I… find that I’m… happy with her.” 

“She’s tried to kill you!” 

Ruby winced and held her bandaged arm after taking a breath. “Will you please help me with the preparations? You’re the only one I trust with it and I’ll get you more information tomorrow, okay?” 

Weiss pinched the bridge of her nose. “Fine. But you better explain why you’re marrying her.” 

“I promise I will… when I can.” 

Weiss watched as Ruby walked off and leaned against the wall of her apartment. It had been less than a week since Oscar had given Ruby the baby that was left when Cinder was stopped and now she had been acting stranger than ever. “I told you she was acting weird.” 

Blake sighed as she walked out of the closet and sighed. “This has to be a trick, right? There’s no way she’d marry Cinder.” 

“I dont know, but something doesnt feel right here. Do you think you can keep an eye on her for a little while? At least until we have an answer?” 

“I can, but I’m not sure how Yang will feel about that.” 

“I’ll loop her into everything once she gets back from dealing with her mother.” Weiss pulled out her scroll and started to pull up a few contacts. “In the meantime, I’m going to go along with this until I can figure out why she’d get with Cinder. Either this is a joke or she’s in trouble.” 

“Ruby can handle Cinder on her own, right?” Blake asked. 

“Normally I’d say yes, but with how she held herself… I’m worried about her safety.”

#rwby #drabbles #ruby rose #rwby ruby rose #cinder fall #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #fallen petals #angsty drabbles #Fake Marriage au #fake marriage #abuse #tw abuse

[flowersandbigteeth]

Would you ever consider doing an Orc royalty arranged marriage? The Orcs have taken over a Human kingdom, because of their low birthrate (and because humans are universal breeders). The Orcs start scanning the Humans in their newly conquered territory for the most genetically compatible mates, which the royalty obviously gets the first pick of because the royal line is seen as the most important. Reader happens to be the most compatible with a member of the nobility, or maybe even the royal family, and so is married off to Orc King/warlord or the Warlord’s son/the crown prince/heir.

Yes! This one was so fun to write ^_^. I had an idea for a reader with a speech disability in my drafts, and this seemed like the perfect scenario to use it. It's a little long and very fluffy. Now that I've done this one, I kind of want to do one about Vola's romance, as well. (how they met, etc.)

Orc King (Golmad) x f reader with speech disability

Word Count: 8k

TW: there is a lot of orc fluff followed by nsfw orc smut, p in v sex, some light violence, bullying by family member, arranged marriage, size difference

“Straighten your back (Y/N),” your mother snapped as she adjusted the obnoxious pink bow on your head. “You must look perfect for the King.” 

She wrinkled her nose at you. 

“Considering your…deformity…You need to look as pretty as possible, so he won't toss you aside.” 

“Oh, shut it, Mauria!” Your father chuckled, taking a thirsty sip of his wine. “A silent wife is a blessing! He’s gonna be thrilled!”  

She gave him a withering look before turning back to you and fussing with a lock of hair. Tears burned at the back of your eyes, but as usual, you said nothing. 

“Don't make that face, darling, smile!” 

You pasted a fake smile on your lips, wishing you could be anywhere else. She licked her thumb and rubbed some stray blush off your cheek before she took a step back, looking you over. 

“Wonderful! Like a little doll!” 

“Oh look, the future Queen,” your perfect big sister Starla sneered as she wandered to the pile of olives at your father's side, popping one in her mouth. “You sure you don't want to fuck one of the stableboys before that Orc splits you in two? I’d hate for you to die before you have your first orgasm!” 

She and your father cackled in laughter, but your mother frowned. Not because she insulted you, but because your mother was the pinnacle of decorum. 

“Don't talk like that, Starla. It makes you sound cheap. You're going to be Queen soon. You need to learn grace and discretion.” 

She snorted, grabbing your father's goblet of wine and taking a big gulp.

“When I'm Queen, Rotham will defeat all these miserable monsters and put their heads on pikes! Too bad (Y/N) won't live to see it after that awful creature snaps her like a twig!” 

Your smile fell, and you looked away. As the oldest daughter, Starla should have been the offering to the King of the Orcs. But Starla was beautiful and brilliant and talented and popular and…blah blah blah. Your parents couldn’t waste her on the insurgent Orc king. The nobles all thought they’d make a comeback, stage a coup, and everything would go back as it should be. Starla would marry the human prince, Rotham, still in hiding, and become the real Queen. 

You were the spare, a sacrifice to placate the enemy. Suffering a sickness as a child, your vocal cords were fused. You couldn't speak or make any noise other than whimpers and mewls. The snobby nobles your parents spent time with had labeled you damaged. When they bothered to speak to you, they acted as though you were dim, as well, which you were not. That was the only thing you surpassed Starla at, you were a very fast reader and quite good with math. 

When the Orcs overthrew the former King, they said they were looking for fertile human wives. Humans bore children at twice the rate of the Orcs, so they’d taken the kingdom to secure their hold on the region with big, robust families. 

 You were all required to submit a blood sample to determine if you were compatible, and then you'd be assigned to an Orc husband. Your mother didn't dare submit Starla’s blood. She had to remain untouched for the human prince. So she sent yours and one of the maids. Yours was a match…to the King. 

You all turned as an Orc dressed in fine livery appeared at the door. 

“The King will see you now,” he said, then turned and left. 

“Look how they dress themselves,” Starla whispered. “As if they're civilized! What a joke! He didn't even stay to escort us! Savages.” 

Your parents chittered while you sucked in a deep breath. Your mother shoved you through the door, eager to get to the negotiations, her favorite part of any encounter. 

“Back straight! Chin up! You are representing our family.” 

You stumbled forward, following the direction the Orc butler had gone. You'd been in the castle before, attending court with your parents, but as you stepped into the large hall, you saw it had all changed. 

The old tapestries had been torn down, replaced with large pelts of animals you'd never even seen before, their heads preserved and their eyes replaced with glass balls. The old wooden furniture was now twisted iron, probably made by the mountain dwarves, allies of the Orcs. They’d provided most of the weapons that led them to victory. The new flag, green with a bear and an axe pictured in silhouette, was hanging behind his throne. 

Orcs lined the gallery, laughing and chattering, but they all fell silent as you entered. You took a thick breath, forcing yourself to put one foot in front of the other and ignore their curious eyes. 

You heard Starla snort behind you as if this was all hilarious. Her disdain made you lift your chin. You would not go to the King as her joke. 

Your first glimpse of your future husband from across the long hall made your eyes widen. Even from far away, he was massive. He must have been nine or ten feet tall and wide as an Ox. 

On his broad shoulders, he wore a thick fur stole over a neat indigo shirt lined with the same cream fur. His thick legs were tucked in matching navy pants and imposing black boots. His outfit was surprisingly human. Behind him, massive shining weapons were arranged on a stand, just within arm's reach. 

When you arrived at the end of the carpet leading you to him, you curtsied as you'd been taught. 

You couldn't greet him verbally, so you waited for your mother to present you. 

“Your majesty!” She crooned. “Please let me present my lovely daughter (Y/N), your perfect blood match!” 

You tried not to tremble in front of him, but this close, he was so very large! His gold eyes passed over you, cool as cold metal. You’d never seen an Orc close-up before, and everyone had told you they were ugly, but the King in front of you was…not. No, he didn't look human, but his jaw was thick and sharp, and his eyes were a beautiful, rich color, like the setting sun. 

Thick black hair fell over one shoulder, shaved to the skin on one side. A full bottom lip wrapped around large tusks that were more exciting than unappealing. His skin was flawless, olive green that reminded you of a mossy forest. Everything about his countenance screamed royalty, though he didn't wear a crown like a human King, his head tipped up, unafraid and confident. Instead, a chunky gold chain link necklace hung around his neck, with a large diamond set at the center, identifying him as the regent.

Your breath became labored as the reality that he would soon be your husband set in. You had no idea how you could be compatible. He was almost twice your height!  

The King nodded for your mother to go on. 

“Unfortunately, my dear daughter suffered a sickness in her youth that stole her voice, but she's otherwise healthy, untouched, and fertile. Fit for a crea- King.”

The casual discussion of your sexual history in front of a hundred-odd strangers made you blush and dip the chin you'd been trying so hard to keep up.  Before you could stop it, a tear slipped down your cheek, and you hurriedly wiped it away, probably smearing blush across your cheek. Behind you, your sister snickered. 

You peered back up at the King, wondering if he was disappointed. His eyes darted to her, and his frown deepened before they returned to you. Your heart sank, assuming he was comparing you to your stunning sister. Instead, he did the last thing you expected. He signed to you. 

“Is your family always this tiresome?”

You released an audible gasp, one of the few sounds you could make, but signed back. Learning to read sign language was something your parents and sister never bothered to do. You’d learned from the kind chaplain at the church, one of the few places your mother allowed you to go alone. He thought you ought to have a way to communicate that didn’t involve scribbling notes on paper—your parents and pretty much everyone else preferred to communicate at you, not with you. 

“I'm sorry if they displease you, Your Majesty.” 

A wide smile spread on his lips as he signed back. 

“You are incredibly polite for the daughter of such fools.”

You giggled, and your parent’s wide eyes danced between you. 

“You don't have to see them again if you'd rather not.”

At that, your breath caught in your throat, and you chose your next thought carefully. 

“Please don't kill them, Your Majesty.”

That drew a deep chuckle from his throat. It was rich and smooth, like chocolate. 

“Since you asked so politely….but if you change your mind, just let me know.”

You gave him a tight nod, unsure if he was joking or not. 

Your mother, not appreciating being out of the loop, cleared her throat. 

“Since the two of you seem to be getting along so…familiarly…there's only the matter of the reward you promised. Of course, considering the status of the match, (Y/N) being the Queen and all…we expect a significant...investment.”

The Orcs promised to compensate every family for whichever daughter they took. It was the only way they could get the citizenry not to revolt at every turn. Making each daughter valuable in gold appealed to their sensibilities, especially after the draining war. A thick eyebrow shot up on the King’s face, and your mother continued with her pitch. 

“You wouldn't want the family of the Queen living in squalor. Not because we are greedy, of course. Never that. We are incredibly humble. But we lost a great deal of our fortune during the war. What would the citizens think? You don't want them assuming you scraped some farm girl from the manure pile. We are a noble family and must exude a certain level of status, don't you agree? Especially considering her condition.” 

Your eyes widened that your mother would be so bold, but his eyes shifted to her and narrowed. He rolled a finger in her direction, signaling her to go on.   

“What exactly do you mean about her condition?” 

Seeing an opening, your mother gave him a genteel smile. 

“Well, we understand that (Y/N) will never take an active role in your rule- Her value lies in the heirs she can produce.” 

“And isn't that a blessing?” Your father piped in. “A pretty little quiet wife is preferable, no? Worth twice a chatty wench!” 

Your mother shot him a look, and swatted him. 

“I'm just saying…” he muttered before she went on. 

“What I mean is…people will assume things about her. Due to our status, the nobles all know she’s…not all there. I don't know how it is for Orcs, but the court here is…discerning.” 

She turned to Starla. 

“If my other daughter had been at all match, we would have sent her since she's a far superior candidate for Queen. Pity it didn't work out that way. In any case, I'm only thinking of your image.”

He glanced at you, signing. 

“Are you sure about keeping them alive? I’m growing tired of this nattering, aren’t you?”

You giggled again, your mother shooting you a look full of vinegar.  

“Killing them is probably not a good plan. My mother is made of tough stuff…I'm sure she’ll return as a noisy wraith and torment you about your posture,” you signed back.  

He let out a roll of laughter, crooking his finger at you. Blushing, your eyebrows rose, but you took slow steps towards him. When you were within grabbing reach, he snapped you up and settled you on his lap. He was very warm compared to the lofty, cool hall and smelled like ginger and leather. You couldn’t help but stroke the shiny black hair that fell on your side of his shoulder. You didn’t mean to be so curious, but you’d never seen an Orc up close, and he was quite the specimen. His skin was smooth and velvety to the touch. Without thinking, you poked one of his tusks with your finger. He flashed you a smile, amused at your interest, before he returned to your mother. 

“Since you are all so thoughtfully concerned with my image, it would be best to make you at home here, in the castle. You can get a taste of Orc society. You won't need any gold here. All your needs will be provided for.” 

Your mouth fell open, trying to read his thoughts, but he only smirked at you. 

“How…kind, your majesty,” your mother said, ever the diplomat. 

Starla was not happy and stomped her foot. 

“Mother! You can’t be serious! I can't be seen with these savages! Rotham will think I've been touched by beasts!” 

Your hand clapped over your mouth, never thinking clever Starla would say something so brash. 

The King’s face turned severe. His easy smile had tricked you into thinking he was a gentle giant, but his business face was terrifying. You were thankful it wasn't directed at you. 

“Rotham? Our enemy's son, leading a band of traitorous supporters? Are you saying you are harboring a fugitive and dare to show your face in my court?” 

Starla backpedaled as quickly as she could. 

“Of course not, Your Majesty, it's…it’s…another Rotham…a man from the village…a…butcher.” 

He relaxed. Which was odd to you because you knew he didn't believe her lie. 

“Good. He should be pleased he has a chance with the Queen’s sister. You can invite him to dinner if you like.” 

Starla’s face blanched, but she nodded obediently. He waved at one of the Orcs standing to the side. 

“Show them to their quarters. We will convene for a meal to welcome our new Queen shortly.” 

 When they were gone, the King turned his attention back to you.

“Would you like the chef to prepare something special for your first dinner in the castle?” 

You had no idea what to say. No one had ever asked your preference or opinion on anything. 

“We should eat what is traditional. You are welcoming me into your family, Your Majesty. I’d like to know more about your customs.”

Though he seemed satisfied with your answer, he waved a dismissive hand at you. 

“Don't call me Your Majesty. We're meant to be married. My name is Golmad.” 

He fingerspelled the letters, then showed you the sign he used for it– the gestures for gold and bear, together. You returned the sign you used for your own name. 

“May I ask a question, Golmad?” 

“Anything. I don't want you to fear me, (Y/N).”  

You organized your thoughts for a moment before you formulated your question. 

“Why do you know sign language? I can hear; you could speak if it is easier.” 

He looked you over, his expression warm. 

“I learned for you. I wanted to speak to you in your language. I knew you were for me long before you took the test– over a year ago. The test is for your human sensibilities. Your people don't rely on instinct. Demanding the test makes it something they can understand. I know by scent your sister is compatible, as well. But I don't desire her.”

Your eyebrows popped up at that admission, and your heart thumped in your chest. You never expected such care from a battle-hardened Orc king. 

“But how? I've never seen you before!” 

He smirked. 

“We Orcs are stealthier than you humans know. It's in our nature to hunt our match.” 

You frowned, a vicious thought pricking your mind. 

“Did you pick me because I'm silent?” 

His eyes narrowed, but the expression they held was not cruel. 

“You are not silent. You speak differently, but you are not a doll without thoughts. Your mother is wrong. You are the best candidate to be Queen. If I had chosen your sister, do you think she would have appeared before me as you did?” 

He patted your chest, not to fondle you, but over your heart. 

“You are a survivor, brave, and virtuous. I trust you at my side.” 

You gasped, feeling more seen than ever before, but also the weight of the responsibilities on your shoulders.

“Now, we must prepare you for Orc society.”

He tugged the big bow on your head, tossing it on the floor when he'd pulled it loose. 

“An Orc Queen will not be dressed like a puppy.”

A smile spread across his lips, and he stood, so large he could carry you with very little effort. As you passed the Orcs lining the hall, they bowed to the two of you, giving you the first taste of what it meant to be Queen. 

The bedroom he brought you to was very different from a human King’s bedroom. It had more plants than furniture, large leafy vegetation planted in a generous selection of iron pots. His bed reminded you of a nest, a wide pallet layered with thick furs in colors ranging from white to rust red to pitch black. There wasn't a spot you could stand in the room where a weapon was not in reach. Axes and swords were mounted on the walls, and iron stands on the floor. Daggers of varying sizes seemed splayed haphazardly on every horizontal surface. 

Golmad set you down and began stripping off the clothes he wore. Your cheeks burned as he revealed thick muscle after thick muscle, but you were also a bit frightened. Was he going to take you now? His eyes met yours, which had to be as large as saucers. 

“I only wore this to speak with your parents. There is wisdom in accommodating humans occasionally. They see us as monsters. Dressing like them makes them more comfortable, but now that you are mine, they will need to grow accustomed to our culture.” 

You nodded, forcing your mouth closed, and he stopped undressing when he got to his pants. The bulky planes of his chest were plenty of eye candy. You weren't sure if you were ready for the rest. 

He let out a loud call, and two Orc women appeared at the door, holding folded stacks of fur and leather.

“These are my sisters Vola and Cayenne. Don't mind their doting. Orc families are very affectionate.”

They gave you a polite bow. 

“Greetings, Your Majesty,” they signed together after they’d deposited the fabrics on a table. When Golmad stepped out of the way, they circled you with big smiles, patting your hair and pinching your cheeks as if you were a new kitten. 

“She’s so cute!” 

“I didn't believe she would be so tiny, but look at her. Precious!” 

Cayenne spun you around, examining your form. You weren’t exactly tiny in human terms, but compared to them, you were short stack. 

“We must choose something daring!” 

Vola nodded.

“Like a little wildcat!” 

You signed to Golmad, a little surprised at their sweetness. They even learned sign language for you! 

“The nobleman said the Orc women resent us and that they'll rip us to bits for stealing their men.” 

He chuckled. 

“That's nothing but propaganda. They want babies just as much as the males. A stout, fertile, submissive human husband is ideal for caring for their pups. Your people are obsessed with the purity of their women. We never had to organize a silly test for the males. The Orcesses just bop their mate on the head and drag him home.” 

He gave you a conspiratorial grin, his gold eyes glittering. 

I have a surprise for you at dinner. I think you’ll find it quite funny. 

You blinked, absorbing that fact, but decided to tuck it away for now and focus on what was happening in front of you. 

“It was kind of your sisters to learn sign language.” 

He looked slightly bashful at that comment, his green cheeks burning a bit darker. 

“Everyone is required to learn. Your staff will speak to you in your own language, not at you. Though I initially ordered it to accommodate you, we've since found tremendous value in practicing the skill.��

You didn't have time to think much more about it as the Orcesses started stripping your heavy dress off. Your cheeks burned as Golmad’s eyes roved over your bare skin, an appreciative glint in them. 

Vola wrapped a soft, asymmetrical skirt of spotted fur around your waist, and Cayenne pulled a leather crop top over your breasts. Then she secured a thick belt on top of your hips. She turned and started picking up and putting down daggers. Once she’d decided on the right one, she sheathed it in its stop at your side. 

“This one is perfect for you,” she explained—”light and sharp. You don't need might to wield a blade. Only speed and endurance.” 

She patted it. 

“We’ll help you train. Every Orc does morning training together before breakfast. We are a communal people. Training is another way to reinforce community. We hash out our disagreements on the training mat, and by the time we sit for our meal we are all on the same page. Our strength is not just our size. We win wars because our bonds are unbreakable.”

You nodded, feeling very special to be trusted with their secrets. 

They finished the outfit with fur-lined boots and a diamond necklace matching Golmad’s. Cayenne produced a makeup stick, drawing a long line across your nose from one cheek to the other and vertical lines from the center of your eyes down to your chin. 

“This is traditional for the Queen. We don’t wear crowns like your people. These markings identify your position at special events. When you are officially married, there will be tattoos and you won’t need the makeup anymore.” 

You blinked at her, wondering what your mother would say to that. An Orc appeared in the doorway, not dressed in human clothes. Instead, he wore leather pants, and was shirtless with an axe strapped to his back. 

He spoke as he signed, showing his respect for you. 

“Dinner is ready, Your Majesty.” 

You swallowed deeply as you were about to meet your future subjects, wearing less clothing than you’d ever worn in public before. Your arms and stomach were bare, as well as one leg where the skirt split. Golmad scooped you up and plopped you on his shoulder as he carried you to the dinner hall. You could hear the raucous laughter of Orcs celebrating, but when you walked through the door, all were silent and bowed in unison. 

It was difficult to find them amid the massive Orcs, but you finally spotted your family seated at the long table at the right of the King and Queen’s seats. Starla was dressed to impress in a low-cut gown emphasizing her assets, though she looked disgusted at the Orcs around her. When your mother caught sight of you, her mouth opened, and she covered it in horror as if they’d done something terrible to you. 

Golmad waved a hand, and the Orcs all took their seats at the table. As he got comfortable, arranging you on his lap, his sister Vola sat down with a familiar man on her lap. 

“Rotham?!” your sister screeched. “What the fuck are you doing here?!” 

You felt Golmad’s body shudder underneath you as he chuckled. Vola shot a glare at Starla, petting Rotham’s head. His cheeks darkened just a bit, but he snuggled against her ample breasts. 

“Don’t speak so familiarly with my mate,” Vola spat. 

Starla’s eyes looked like they might pop out of her head. 

“Rotham, how could you? We were supposed to be married! I was supposed to be Queen! How can you lay with that…monster?! What about your people? YOUR COUNTRY?” 

The table had grown silent as everyone watched the drama play out. 

“Vola is my mate,” Rotham said, looking down his nose at her. “I love her! Why would I want to sit on a throne waiting for someone pretending to be my friend to stab me in the back and fuck my wife when I can stay cozy and safe tending Vola’s hearth?” 

He shook his head as if he were knocking something unpleasant out of it. 

“Why do I have to be King, anyway?! Just because I'm a man? You know what, Starla? You've never once asked what I wanted! Do you realize that? You don't care about what I want, only that I fulfill what fantasy you have about conquering the Orcs and obtaining a sparkly trinket. You'd be happy to stand on the sidelines like a swooning maiden, spending money you haven't earned on meaningless crap, while I risk my life and limbs for a battle I don't even care about!”

Starla looked incensed, shocked, and confused by his position. 

“But she's a monster, Rotham. The enemy!”

His brow drew and jabbed a finger at her. 

“Don’t you dare call my mate a monster; she is no enemy! It’s cruel and disrespectful. Vola loves me for me! She likes my cooking! She kisses me when I get hurt! She listens to my fears and helps me accomplish my goals! My goals! Not a bunch of spoiled noble's goals. 

I'm warning you, don't provoke her. I don’t love you, but I don’t want to see you harmed, either.” 

His smile met Vola’s before his eyes dipped to her body, looking quite pleased with his wife. 

Starla stood up, knocking over her chair as her sense dissolved with her dream of becoming Queen. The real Starla came out, the snotty girl who used to throw tantrums when she didn’t get a toy she wanted at the Goddesses’ Supper.

“Kissing your boo-boos like a sniveling child? Chasing frivolous goals? What the fuck are you talking about? You are royalty! You have a responsibility to the country! To me! What could possibly be more appealing than being the King?” 

Rotham huffed. 

“I want to be a baker! That's all I ever wanted to do, and because I was born my father's child, I never even had the option to try. My parents planned out my life, then advisors, then generals, and even you. I could never do what I wanted. I was scolded if I ever went near the kitchen, even to bake in my spare time! It was hell!” 

Starla snorted. 

“A baker?! That's work for common folk! It's beneath you! You’re throwing away the crown to bake cookies?! That’s pathetic! Stop this nonsense right now!” 

Vola growled. 

“Do not speak to my mate that way. Rotham deserves to be as free as any of us. He's an excellent baker. You're just sour he's not putting himself in harm's way to elevate your status!” 

Starla's eyes narrowed on Vola.

“How dare you think, you, a filthy beast, are worthy of a Prince?! MY PRINCE?! You’re nothing but an ugly ogre!” 

You felt the tension rise as every Orc leaned in, watching what would happen next. Vola gave her a cool smile. 

“Do you mean to challenge me for my mate, little girl?” 

“He’s not your mate! He’s mine! MINE!” 

Golmad held up a hand. 

“The human has declared an official challenge for Vola’s mate. Take her to the ring.” 

Starla screamed as an Orc picked her up and awkwardly carried her out of the room. Everyone else at the table followed, including your parents, whispering between each other.

The battle ring was a simple dirt circle with thick ropes marking its outline. By the time you and Golmad arrived, Starla had been placed in the center, and someone had armed her with a thin rapier, probably the only weapon in the arsenal against the wall she could lift. 

You could see the terror on her face when Vola set Rotham down next to you and entered the ring, cracking her knuckles. 

“Wait! Wait! This is madness!” Starla screamed, realizing there was no chance she would win this fight. 

Golmad waved her screams away. 

“In our tradition, a mate challenge is binding. You should not have spoken so carelessly if you did not want to fight. You must follow through. Prepare yourself! Begin!” 

Your heart raced, wondering if you should do something to save your sister. Golmad caught your worried expression and signed to you with a small smile. 

“She won’t kill her. Death’s not necessary to teach her a lesson.” 

You let out a breath of relief, leaning into Golmad’s warm body. The two competitors circled one another…rather, Vola circled Starla, and Starla looked for an exit. The Orcs packed tightly around the ring, and there was no gap to escape. When she realized there was no way out, she raised her weapon with two hands as best as possible. 

“Stay back, beast! I’ll cut you!” 

Vola laughed, darting forward so fast she was only a green blur. You heard a crack, and Starla smacked the dirt, blood spraying across her pretty dress. Mercifully, Vola didn’t knock her out. Starla’s whining voice drifted up from the ground. 

“My nose! She broke my fucking nose!” 

Vola snatched her weapon up and pointed the blade at her throat. 

“Do you concede?” 

Starla’s eyes got big. She focused on the tip of the rapier and nodded. 

To make her point, Vola adjusted her grip and stabbed the sword into the ground next to Starla’s head. A clump of her hair fluttered to the ground beside her. 

Leaning in so close to her that their noses almost touched, Vola pinned her with an icy glare. 

“The next time you raise your voice to my mate, I will not miss, little girl.” 

Golmad lifted a hand, ending the fight. 

“Vola has defended her claim! To dinner!” 

The Orcs cheered, but Rotham cheered the loudest. When she returned to him, he squeezed her biceps, looking up at her with stars in his eyes. 

“You're so strong! You were fast, too, like a beautiful bolt of lightning!”

“Rotham, please…” Starla whimpered from the dirt, hoping to get sympathy from him. 

He only frowned and turned away. Vola scooped him up, swinging him around while she kissed him. 

“I'll always protect you and your honor, my darling,” she said. “To my dying breath.” 

They and the other Orcs piled out of the room, leaving your parents to help Starla with her bloody nose. As Golmad carried you out, you heard them speaking to her as your mother helped her to her feet. 

“Don’t be difficult, Starla. We need to return to the table. Buck up.” 

“Are you insane? My nose is broken, and I’m covered in blood! I’m not going back there!” 

For once, you heard your father sound stern. 

“You got yourself into this foolishness, Starla. If Rotham is not leading a rebellion, we must find favor with our new King. We cannot be absent from (Y/N)’s dinner. It would be disrespectful, and we don't have the money to live up to the standards we're used to without her grace! Living here is our best option. I’m not going to be tossed on the street to defend your ego.” 

When Golmad set you on his lap at the head of the table, Starla sulkily took her place beside your mother, a napkin on her nose to slow the bleeding. When she did look up from her plate, it was to glare across the table at Vola and Rotham, caught up in their own banter between lovers. 

Golmad cleared his throat to call everyone to attention, and the noise quickly quieted. 

He signed as he spoke, so everyone could understand. 

“We come together for this meal to welcome my lovely Queen (Y/N) to our fold!” 

He glanced down at your parents, his face a bit smug. 

“Family and community are a core value of our kind. I also welcome (Y/N)’s parents and sister to our castle. Please do your best to help them grow accustomed to our traditions.

This night marks a step forward in the blending of human and Orc society, and as I have found my match, I wish you all your own mates so that, from the wounds of war, another generation of both our peoples can flourish! Let’s enjoy the bounty of this land together!” 

That was the end of the speech, as Orcs carried out massive dishes of roasted meat, vegetables, and golden-crusted pies and arranged them on the table. 

Happy Orcs were loud and raucous, apparently enjoying giving toasts. Everyone guzzled ale as they tipped their glasses to speeches of triumphs in war, hunting their new mates, and lots of well wishes to your future children. 

Numerous Orcs lined up to kiss your hand and declare their devotion to your protection. Meanwhile, your parents focused their energy on courting Golmad’s favor, complimenting the food, the music, and whatever else they could think of that might endear them to him. Your mother even gave you a tight compliment on your skirt. 

While you tried to focus on greeting your subjects, your mind wandered to the warm body underneath you. Golmad’s firm, barrel chest brushed your arm with every deep breath. The bulging muscles of his thigh were like sitting on a stone chair covered in bulky leather, but those features aside, your absolute favorite part of his physique was his husky stomach. It was firm and toned from daily training but thick from eating well. Leaning into it was quite comfortable and cozy. 

Everything about him was so big, including the enormous shaft, you could feel at your back. Maybe it was the wine, but your initial fear of it had slowly changed to curious interest as the night progressed. What would it be like? How would it feel inside of you? What would it taste like? The lewd thoughts were incredibly distracting. You found yourself wiggling your bottom to brush it without thinking. Every time you did, you felt a low rumble in his chest no one else could hear above the merrymaking. 

“Are you enjoying yourself?” He asked when there was finally a break in the production, and you could speak. 

You nodded and gave him a wan smile. 

“Your court is delightful. It's just…

When you paused his focus on you became intense. 

What's wrong? You can tell me, I won't be offended.”

You looked over the celebration, considering how your day played out compared to what you expected. 

“A lot has happened today…between the meeting and the fight…I'm a little tired, to be honest. I want to keep up with your people…but…” 

His gold eyes gleamed with predatory interest, making heat swell in your core. 

“I have a remedy for that. Orc celebrations take a bit of time to get used to. They'll all be up till dawn.” 

He stood before you could ask anything more, willing the Orcs to quiet down. 

“My Queen and I will retire for the evening! Enjoy the food and drink. Show our guests how Orcs celebrate!” 

A happy cry rang out, and the party started again as Golmad carried you out of the room. Your heartbeat thumped in your chest, realizing this was the first time the two of you would be alone for any length of time. He was so large he could do anything to you, and that thought had become far more exciting than frightening.  

When you arrived at his bedroom, he gently set you down on a table and turned his attention to starting a fire in the fireplace to warm the cool room. 

You swung your legs over the edge of the tall table, watching the muscles in his back flex as he loaded the hearth with logs. When he turned, he pulled off his boots and tucked them in a corner.  Finally, he approached you, his footsteps silent for someone so large. His eyes moved over your body as if deciding what part to engage first. 

“Do you think a back rub would help you relax? It’s been an eventful day.” 

You nodded, your heart skipping at the thought of his big hands on you. He tugged your boots off and set them next to his before settling the two of you on his bed, with you on his lap. 

You let out a long moan as his thick fingers pressed gently into the tense knots in your shoulder. His breath fanned across the nape of your neck, causing a pleasurable shiver to snake up your spine. Since his hands were busy, he spoked to you, his head dipping close to your ear. 

“I didn’t have a moment to tell you how beautiful you looked, today. In your human clothes, but especially so in ours.” 

You hummed a thank you, a sizzling tingle vibrating in your ear. As his thumbs slid down the curve of your waist, you realized he could circle both hands around your middle. His thumbs worked the knots away, but his other fingers smoothed over your bare skin. 

He seemed to get distracted by your arms, shifting his attention to one. He measured the diameter of your wrist with his thumb and forefinger. 

“You are delicate. I feel fortunate to have someone so sweet to protect and love.” 

At the word love, your cheeks burned, and you let out a quick mewl. You heard him chuckle behind you. He spun you around to face him, putting his hand lightly around your neck. Your breath came short, and your eyes widened at him, not sure what he was doing. 

“You are a precious blessing. I’ll never hurt you, (Y/N). If something hurts, pinch me, and I’ll know to stop, okay?” 

You nodded, relaxing just slightly. With his other hand, he tipped your head to the side, and the fingers around your neck massaged the muscles that had gotten tight from gritting your teeth. Your eyelashes fluttered as all of the tension slipped away. When you opened them again, Golmad’s eyes met yours, flickering as if they were lit from within and drawing you forward. 

He loosened his grip on your neck, and you pushed yourself up on your knees, pressing your small hands into his chest as you leaned up to him. 

For a moment, he looked surprised, but his eyes tracked yours as you looked over his features, pulled to his nicely shaped lips. He seemed to have no intention to push you to be intimate with him, but he was to be your husband. You were curious about him. You sucked in a quick breath before you tipped your head forward and brushed your lips against his. That’s what a wife was supposed to do, no? 

He let out a deep, rumbling grumble you felt between your legs. His big hand swept you up by the small of your back, while the other cradled your face. The next time your lips came together was a hungry, needy kiss. Your hand wrapped around his tusk, sliding over the smooth surface as you explored with your lips. 

You’d never kissed before, so you weren’t entirely sure what to do beyond the first taste. Pulling back you looked at him through the veil of your lashes, cheeks burning and lips swollen. 

“Was that good?” You asked. 

His eyebrows rose slightly, and he gave you a gentle nod. 

“Is this your first time kissing?” 

You looked away, embarrassed at your inexperience, but a thick finger pushed your chin back in his direction. 

“I didn’t mean it as an insult. I assumed the “untouched” bit of your mother’s introduction was a production. I mean…look at you. You’re gorgeous.”

You frowned, and he looked contrite. 

“I didn’t mean…to question your purity…I only meant-”

He huffed, and you were surprised to see a confident Orc King flustered by you. When his gaze met yours, it was open and vulnerable. 

“You’re so much smaller than me. I don’t want to scare you.” 

You searched his face for a moment. 

“You don’t scare me. I want to please you. Will you show me how?” 

His cheeks darkened to a rich forest, and his mouth fell open. You watched his pupils widen, and he nodded, eyes drifting over your body. You pushed yourself up on your knees, kissing him again, hoping to encourage whatever might come next. He groaned, thick hands wrapping around your waist. 

Feeling bolder, you let your hands move over his bare shoulders and gently trace every plane of his chest. He shuddered when your fingers slipped over a nipple, so you tried it again, earning you another rich groan. His tongue slipped past your lips, tasting you for the first time, and he hummed into your mouth.  

Beneath you, the shaft you’d already thought felt large suddenly got much firmer and larger. Curious, you gingerly let your fingers slip down his chest, palming him through his pants. A deep rumble vibrated his chest, and you mewled as he suddenly flipped you under him. You looked up at his massive body looming over you, panting. 

His eyes ate up your skin, glowing with appreciation. A fingertip traced your collarbone down the V of the little crop top you wore. It took only a flick of his fingers to rip it in half. You gasped, chest heaving. He met your gaze, searching for any indication you didn’t want him to go on. 

“Are you okay?” 

You nodded quickly, your nipples pebbling now exposed to the air. He smirked, dipping his head to press a kiss into the top of one breast and then the other before he moved lower. Pleasure you weren’t used to was intoxicating as he licked and sucked your nipples. Your breaths were heaving, and your thoughts scrambled. 

Though thick, his fingers were nimble, unbuckling the belt at your waist and stripping the skirt off you. 

Instinctively, you looked away, never having been so exposed in your life. A grunt brought your eyes back to him, and Galmod squeezed your cheek before he spoke. 

“It’s my job to please you. May I?”

Your nod was far more enthusiastic than you intended, and he grinned. A thumb teased a nipple, while his thick tongue traced your slit. A breathy mewl slipped out, and he glanced up without pulling away. His gaze was intent. Every hunting instinct he possessed focused on making sure you were enjoying what he had to give you. His tongue dipped inside of you the first time anything or anyone had touched you there. Your back arched, and your eyelashes fluttered. Your hand instinctively clutched his hair, your hips bucking into his mouth as wetness flooded your channel. 

He chuckled, the added sensation making you whimper. Though your flavor was appealing, Golmad had a second reason for filling you with his tongue. He also stretched you, preparing you to take something much larger. When you were eagerly rocking your hips to create more friction, he slipped out of you, turning his attention to your clit. Your irises crossed, your first real orgasm exploding between your legs and shooting through every nerve in your body. You were practically drooling as he slipped two fingers inside, bringing you right back where you started, needy and wanting. 

He stopped for a moment, cupping your chin to get your attention. 

“Do you want more?” 

Your fingers were shaking as you responded. 

“Yes…please?” 

He chuckled, leaning down and kissing you deeply before he rocked back on his knees. 

“It will hurt for just a second, then it will feel good…but if you want me to stop, just pinch me. I’ll stop.” 

You nodded quickly, wiggling your hips to entice him. You wanted whatever he planned on next. His gaze was ravenous, and you could tell staying in control of his instincts was work, but you trusted him, which made no sense since you'd only met. Something about him made you feel safe and protected, maybe the way he seemed so worried about hurting you. 

Your eyes popped as he slipped out of his pants. A thick cock bobbed in front of him. You’d never seen something so viscerally sexy, his bulky green body hovering over you, a thick hand fisting a massive shaft. A zip of sheer excitement made you quake. You felt a little mad. His cock had to be too big for you, but you wanted more than anything to take it. A fresh wave of slick leaked from inside of your spasming cunt. 

Your legs looked tiny in his hands as he spread them. He rubbed the large, round head of his cock against your slit, watching you whimper and beg for him with your eyes. 

Entering you maddeningly slow, you felt your pussy stretch to accommodate him. It felt good, the strain feeling more decadent than painful. There was no way you could fit his entire length inside, but he didn't seem concerned, gripping the base for more control. His fingers circled your clit, and you hardly felt a slight pinch through a veil of pleasure. Your eyes rolled back in your head as he filled you completely. 

When your gazes met, you could see the concentration on his face, his brow drawn, and his jaw locked. You nodded to him, asking him to go on, telling him that you wanted it. 

Pulling back, his hips snapped forward pushing a high-pitched mewl past your lips. He watched you, looking for any pain, but whatever he saw just egged him on. The concerned expression melted to a smug smirk, and he picked up the pace, heavy thrusts jerking your body against the soft furs. 

His long fingers wrapped around your neck, holding you in place while his strokes grew more intense. 

“That’s it, you can take it,” he groaned, his husky voice tickling your ears. 

You were amazed at your own body, your slippery fluids coating his shaft and allowing him to grind in and out of you despite his size. Though you could feel the strength in his hands, he only applied light pressure to your throat, making your heart skip. He could crush you easily, yet despite the rapture in his eyes, he held you like a baby dove.  

The tension in your thighs relaxed, your legs opening for him far wider than you even knew they could to accommodate his big body. 

The room filled with the sound of your sweet mewls and his guttural grunts. 

“So good,” he drawled, words slurring. “You were made for me.” 

You wanted to sign, “you, as well,” but your brain was mush. 

His cock battered you in just the right spot, while his free hand never left your clit, pinching and circling it until your eyes crossed and you were drooling. You soared, high on his musky scent, your body sparkling in ways you’d never felt before. Pleasure licked the tips of your nerves, zipping up and down your spine like lightning bolts. The only thing you could do was hold on tight to the hand circling your throat, your nails digging into the sinewy flesh. 

Your mother had made it seem like sex was a chore a wife did to please her husband and keep him from messing around. You had no idea it could be like this. Golmmad’s gold eyse lit as your wet cunt spasmed around him. A wet rush of bliss washed over you like the tide tugging you under. Your scream pierced the heady air as you reached your peak, spongey walls sucking him deeper. 

It was one thing to cum underneath him, but the look on his face as your body clamped around him, wet slick coating his cock, was sheer euphoria. His mouth fell open, eyes fluttering shut as he roared his finale. Making a large, powerful Orc king fall apart made you feel powerful and desirable in a way you’d never been allowed to feel before. It was a high that couldn’t be matched. You wanted to do this again and again until neither of you could walk or think. 

You felt his shaft grow impossibly harder, twitching inside you as he emptied himself into you in searing ropes. The ragged, stiff thrusts to seek his pleasure pulled another lingering orgasm from your pussy. You felt tears slipping down your cheeks as he slammed his hips into yours one last time. 

For a moment, the two of you just panted together, his head dipping down just an inch or so above yours. You felt a thick thumb trace your cheek, wiping your tears away. 

“I-I didn’t hurt you?” he whispered, and you forced your eyes open so he wouldn’t panic. 

A small smile and a slight jerk of your head told him no, you were just fine. He peeled himself off of you, sinking down into his bed and pulling you onto his lap. His fingers played lazily in your hair as he caught his breath. 

“What do you think?” he asked, his tone raw and vulnerable. 

You propped your head on one fist, elbows resting on his chest, while you wound a lock of dark hair around a finger, thinking of how to answer him. You felt his breath halt, waiting eagerly for your answer. Finally, you pulled your legs under you, sitting cross-legged on top of him so you could use your hands. 

“Can we do that again in the morning?” 

His eyebrows jumped before his lips stretched into a broad smile, responding with his free hands. 

“Of course, as many times as you like.”

You grinned and yawned, plastering your body on top of his. His warmth sunk into your bones, and sleep came easily. The last thing you felt before you dozed off was his hand stroking your hair as he muttered thanks to the goddess for bringing you to him. 

#monster romance #monster boyfriend #monster x girl #monster x reader #monster fluff #x reader #terato fic #teratophillia #orc boyfriend #orc #orctober #orc x reader #orc x human #monster lover #terato #monsters #orc fluff #orc romance #orcs #human x monster #monster bf #monster #monster husband #monster oc #monster x human #monster fic

[gremlingottoosilly]

The Horror and The Wild (emperor!Konig x fem!Reader)

A day after you and Konig's wedding. Who knew that evil emperors could be so romantic. Tags and TWs: Dub-con, aphrodisiacs, power imbalance, breeding kink, size difference, loss of virginity, age difference(Konig in his forties, Reader in her twenties), medieval/fantasy AU, Konig is a pervert AND an evil dictator Word count: 3256 AO3

— Lift your hips up, princess. You don’t want to waste my seed. 

You whimper, trying to get your legs down, so he can’t force you to spread them anymore – but you feel the hot seed getting back in the swell of your well-used maidenhood, and it makes you whimper only more. What a woeful sight indeed – a fake princess crying over having to take the seed of the strongest person in the whole continent. You know a thousand of women who would beg for an opportunity to have the Emperor’s hands on their hips, guiding them down to admire the look. You know that the real princess – your princess – would never agree to this ordeal, no matter the begging and the bribery. So, you don’t agree too. — In m…my culture, a bride should wait at least a month after the marriage before the…conception, Your Majesty. 

You lie through gritted teeth like it could change anything. Like it could magically force all the seed from your womb to the ground again, to the silk of the sheets under you. Like the mere tradition that you gave birth to the idea of a minute ago would stop you from being König’s breeding mare. Still, you refuse to lift your hips, a small resistance that puts a small chuckle to his lips. He is amused by you – or your stupidity. Princesses are supposed to be spoiled and bratty, right? Yours certainly was. 

— Does your culture also make the bride lie to her husband? 

You lick your lips, forcing them closed. No another quick witty word from you – your lies already got you on the edge of…something. After König announced he knew who you were this entire time, he got you on your back, on your belly, with your hips up and down, your head silly from lack of air as he choked you until you begged for your life – only for him to kiss you over and over. Feeding your womb with his seed until there was a bump, not giving any chance that the baby wasn’t there yet. If anything, he conquered your body the same way he did your country – and left your bruised hips as a reminder. The handprinted bruises covering your skin like the finest fabrics of the gown he got you. 

— If you wish to order me dead, your majesty. 

— Death doesn’t mean anything here, meine Liebe. 

— Then banish me. For the lies and the betrayal of a royal…

He laughs – it’s a nice sound, still, something in your deprived mind likes the way you make him laugh and chuckle. Something in your head makes you feel as dizzy as you did when he cut off the air in your throat, every time that cold eyes of his look at you with warmth. heated obsession, whatever that is – you refuse to believe it was genuine, as you were borrowing your princess’s identity, but now, when he laughed and spoke about his true intentions, you weren’t sure if a pathetic and lowly lady-in-waiting is as safe in you as you thought.

— If being as stupid as you are is a punishable crime, then I’d finalyl have a good reason to kill off most of my harem. He laughs again, a hand in your hair – getting out all of the fancy pins and bows and dead flowers that were forced to be held in your crown and on your head. You groan in pleasure as the pins scraping your scalp are finally removed – and try to get back at his hand immediately when he comes to squeeze your breasts again. Not for any reason – simply because you happened to have the aspects of your body that he could touch. 

— Would be much safer to get a woman from a harem, sir. Not…not me. 

— And if I wanted just you? 

König looks at you – trembling, loved out completely. Covered in his marks, as many bites as a princess could take. Even being a servant, you’re almost as gentle and reserved as a real deal – but gods, if you weren’t the cutest thing he ever saw in that damned ugly country of yours. Hating nobility as much as he hated speaking to his troops not as their commander, König never particularly enjoyed the idea of having to marry some bitchy royal daughter…you, however, were the loophole in the god’s contract. A gift, just for him. 

— Your council would make me disappear for deceiving you in the first place. 

— No one would dare to leave the empire without heirs. 

— You could have another one. There are plenty of princesses out there, Your Highness. 

— And I don’t have enough patience to entertain you trying to sell me the idea of your freedom. Do you know what relief I felt when you were the one to meet me? 

You don’t answer, instead prompting to just listen. You have good ears for listening – for allowing others to talk, so you wouldn’t be made to fill in awkward silences. König loves that and appreciates that. Finally, someone who can just be silent – even if he also has nothing to say, at least you’re scared and angry enough to dismiss him anyway. At least your unwillingness is making him less awkward at participating in the conversation. 

— You knew who I was all along? 

— Princesses are pampered. Even the poorest kingdom would never have a princess with hands as hard-working as yours, Schatz. 

He takes his hands in yours – no matter the healing creams you rubbed in them, no matter the lack of actual physical labor, even the smallest tasks you performed for the princess, the tiniest exposure to cleaning supplies that would make the toughest skin crack, left a small traces in the skin of your palm. Fingers with clean nails – short, practical, indicating the need to have your hands in working order all of the time. Indicating your lack of a servant who would do everything – opening buttons on clothes, embroidery, and washing oneself’s body. indicating that you were said servant. 

You look embarrassed that he pointed that out. Scared, almost. 

— Are my hands too ugly for you, sir? 

He can see the tremble in your fingers. He traces them with his – large, calloused hands keeping you in place. Rough skin and multiple ridges of scars over the darkened skin made you shiver from the contrast of the sensation – those are the hands of a ruler who isn’t afraid of taking a sword in his hands. Who almost got his arms chopped off for this altogether. 

Then – he kisses them. 

One finger at a time, every ridge and bump in your skin deserves a graze of emperor’s teeth as he tugs on rough skin around your knuckles. Your hands are soft, softer than a normal maid would have – but changed from the work you had to put. Every kiss and lick doesn’t make them gentle, doesn’t remove the experience you had – in braiding hair, in washing clothes, in cleaning up after a royal mess. It doesn’t change who you were, but with every little praise he whispers – crude language, really, but the affection in his words scares you more than any foreign insult could – with every toss of his lips over your palms, he is changing who you are. Who will you become in just a week or two. 

He calls your hands beautiful – in North tongue, with a smile on his face. König loves to explore, and your body is a beautiful place for him to be. Your hands are the best place he could have been in the morning. 

Some historians are already saying he has done more to this country than any other ruler ever could. But oh, the emperor knows that the most important thing he did here was kiss your fingers. Over and over. 

You snap your arms back when he finally breaks down, starting to bite – the softer skin of your palms falling victim to his sharp teeth. Emperors aren’t supposed to have sharp teeth but for all he knows, he was born from a dog and raised by one. A wolf in wolf’s clothing. 

— Your hands belong to an empress. 

— Thought I was a regent. 

— You are, mein Schatz. Can’t trust you with a country, ja? 

You laugh, but there are tears in your eyes. Loss of whatever authority you could have as the princess's personal maid – her friend if he knew anything about royals and their habits. Scheisse, he was the emperor for 10 long years and still didn’t get a hang of it. Might be something he had to be born with – such a shame, really. Should have told his mother to never give birth to a rat that would usurp the throne once out of the crib. 

He loves to see you weak, trembling like this – like a proper bride should. Like a real princess, the one whose manners should be enough to fool the people and the dumbest of his court. The smartest ones could always agree to put their tongues up their behinds – if they don’t want to get their heads chopped off by his blade, without even bothering an executioner to do it. 

— But you can trust me with your children?

— This empire needs an heir. As much as I can rule forever. 

— No one is immortal. 

— Ach. Did Sebastian forget to visit you before the wedding, little princess? 

He is mocking you, again and again – he laughs with death and you hate it, you hate yourself, you loathe him and his laughs and his crooked smile and the scars covering his skin and…he kisses your hands again, then – dips your hands up in that mask of his. Lets you feel the skin, involuntarily trace your fingertips all over everything hidden – you touch his teeth, his fangs, and you gasp in shock. So, the monster has lips. So, the monster has thin lips and wet mouth, and he dips his tongue all over the traces of knuckles and…

König knows you’d never agree to be his in a way that he wants you too – but this is fine. He can work you around. He can break you. He can please you. What a wonderful job would this be. 

— Your court would soon find out I’m not the one. 

— They know how to keep their mouths shut. You would, however, have to deal with my harem personally. 

— Did you intended to add my princess to your harem too? 

— If I knew that you wouldn’t take her place? Of course. I never visited the place for the exact reason I didn’t bother to find your patron. 

— Are you really satisfied with the scraps? 

Oh, his poor, dumb girl – he was feeding off scraps since he was ripped away from his mom’s tit. You were the only fancy meal he ever liked in his life – and gods, if he wouldn’t give up anything to taste you again. 

On the other side, however, he can do just that. 

König dips his head down, the traces of his hood laying on your labia. You whimper. 

— I never ate anything as exquisite as you, little princess. 

— I’m n…why do you keep calling me this? 

— You will be my princess. Forever trapped on my lap, on the floor, chained to my throne like a…

With each word, his tongue laps on the glossiness of your lower lips. He gives your maiden a little kiss all over, he digs down like it’s a fancy meal indeed – the scrawny hairs of his stubble make you whimper every time they graze your clit. König has a fleeting thought of eating his cum out of your poor, sore body – that it wouldn’t be wise, that it would make the process of impregnating you slower. Then, he thinks – he can just fill you up with his seed later. And in the evening. And tomorrow. 

He pushes his tongue down, deep – you gasp, you get your hands on his hood, not trying to tear it apart, but laying there like a scared maiden. You were one – you are one, after all. Gods, he could just keep you here forever if it weren’t for the country needing its empress. 

König kisses you all over – you’re still smelling like rose water, like fragrances that were forcefully rubbed on your skin right before the wedding. A proper lady, you were bathed in salts and oils like a kitchen in poor man’s soup – but weren’t you looking beautiful in that dress of yours. Too bad he had to rip it eventually, stepping on it accidentally quite a few times as he was getting you water. Your little trick with the herb did make you thirsty in all possible ways. 

You don’t know a lot about royal weddings, but you’re pretty sure that the emperor shouldn’t be sprawled on his giant bed like this, eating you out like you were the roasted lamb served at yesterday’s feast. You moan when the material of his mask is getting tricky with your gentle parts when the rough fabric is scrapping your thighs in a way that is far from arousal – and then he leans in, a head laying on your tummy. Your princess parts are swollen from his actions – and lack thereof. You almost think you could buck your hips up like a… König takes off his hood. 

— Wh…what are y… You don’t master enough words before he is forcing his face against yours before his lips finally lay down on yours properly – and gods isn’t this a beautiful sight. The emperor, the vile conqueror, your biggest enemy, and your husband – smiling like a boy when he got free candy, like a cat who got the cream – like a man so in love, it makes him unable to stop smiling while looking at his wife. 

He isn’t pretty in the sense that some of the rulers can be pretty – he isn’t hideous either. A rough face doesn’t look like something that belongs to a royal family – big nose, small lips, chiseled chin and not a sight of inbreeding. You try to see if his ears are wrong, at least, but they are fine – not caring about a bit of chopped-off bits, probably from old battles. He is rugged and handsome and rough and you hate that red stubble on his chin and his gorgeous ginger hair – if you were forced to see this face every day, you might give up and like him. It’s a good thing he wears the mask most of the time, isn’t it? 

— You don’t like how your emperor looks, little princess? He laughs again, then – cups your face in his hands and kisses you all over. Again and again, his lips fell on yours making you feel dumb, making you feel dizzy and just a bit charmed – like the potion you drank yesterday hadn’t fully worn off. You can taste your own pleasure on his lips and it makes you embarrassed – a proper lady should never enjoy a process as dirty as making love – your lower parts should only exist for him to take pleasure in ruining it, and for you – to birth little princes. 

But König bows down before your lower lips, but König presses his tongue against your special spot again and again, and it makes you wonder if he recites the anthem of the empire on the little swollen bud between your legs – for his actions are filled with devotion that should only be reserved for one’s country, not for just a poor, dumb handmaiden whose only job was to lie and to protect. But…is it really all you want to do now? Just lay here and let him take him, without a chance of enjoying him playing with you if only for just a bit longer? — I…I believe you look fine, Your Majesty. 

— Just fine? 

He smiles and kisses you down there again – the aftermath of your pleasure makes his lips feel too hard on your swollen parts, the climax had taken everything from you left only feelings, as naked and trembling as you are right now – and, by god, if you aren’t feeling like sold and set in pieces. You are selling your dignity right now, the loyalty to your kingdom is getting grazed by each new stroke of his tongue. You close your eyes and moan – for you can’t hold off your pleasure anymore. For you don’t see a reason in trying to pretend you don’t enjoy being treated like a princess after a life of servitude. 

— You are fine for an emperor, my…my husband. You struggle to say it – but you do have to say it eventually, at least in front of the servants. If he isn’t intent on keeping you locked away in a tower, pumping out babies like his little servant – maybe he wouldn’t want to keep you open for the world to take. You were a secluded princess kept in shadows before he discovered you, after all. You served the one, at least. 

— Trying to cover the harsh words with honey, ja? I killed for less, mein Schatz. 

— I assume you won’t kill me before the first son, at least? 

— Wouldn’t kill you even if you’d be barren. I’d rather leave the empire to rot without an heir than choose someone else in your place. 

— That is awful news for your empire. 

— Our empire can rot without you, Meine Liebe. Never wanted the damned crown in the first place. 

— But you’re fine with putting it on the head of a commoner? 

— I was a commoner once. Know better than anyone else that a princess would never make a good wife. 

You never studied his rise to power – the latest politics were hidden from you and the princess, the king never wanted to taint his daughter with such silly things as rising stars of the political arena – and he failed to mention the empire that was once rotting from its head getting a ruler who would take half of the continent and a daughter of every kingdom in his harem as the spoils of war. 

He lays down beside you, taking you in his arms again. his hair flows all around you – he smells like blood, still, even after so many hours spent bathing in your shared musk. You wonder if everything he had done with the forbidden rituals made him like this – face torn and stitched back together again, harsh scars that can only be made from a blade or claws of a giant animal – and he pushes you down to press your face against his chest, taking in the feeling of laying beside your husband. 

— Don’t you have something that needs to be done, Your Highness? 

— The most important thing I need to do is lay between your legs, little princess. And you’re too swollen to be doing that. 

You press your forehead against his chest. Taking it him and the light tan of his skin – you wonder where he could get it, if he almost never took off his armor. His face is as pale as it can be, and it makes him look a little silly when naked – but you refuse to smile and make him angry. — I thought you wanted me to meet your harem. 

— They can wait. We need to give them time to prepare the poison for you, right? 

He laughs and you don’t find anything better to do than to press your head against his chest and close your eyes. The royal visits really can wait until tomorrow.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #call of duty #yandere cod #cod x you #konig mw2 #konig x you #konig cod #yandere male #male yandere #yandere #yandere imagines

[namjinreads]

READ ON AO3

#author: linkpoisoned #length: 51 to 100k words #rating: teen #au: other #au: royalty #arranged marriage #sharing a bed #fake relationship #enemies to lovers #sexuality crisis #light angst #tw: internalized homophobia #namjinreads repost

[overkill-max]

The Arrangement (4/ 4)

——————

Summary: Cruz and Aaliyah were always destined to meet by bumping into each other. This time, Aaliyah is the one that instigates their meeting because she needs a protector and a friend. Little did she know, she would find more than that in a young marine.

AKA

The Fake Marriage AU

——————

...Cruz never imagined she’d be good at having a family.

Her life had been a series of wars, and she was not used to unconditional things.

Everything had a price...

Read it on AO3

#special ops: lioness #aaliyah amrohi #cruz manuelos #aaliyah x cruz #my fanfic #alternate universe #alternate universe: different first meeting #fake marriage au #there's only one bed #kid fic #angst with a happy ending #tw implied abuse #healing #I will flood this tag with fanfics until i'm kicked out of the fandom!

[verstarppen]

summary; slowly but surely that fake dating plan you cooked up starts leaving its confined lines

pairing; mick schumacher x fem!reader [ no faceclaim ]

a/n; babe wake up star finally made a mick smau this demands a national celebration; title is count me in by they. because i was listening to it when this story idea appeared between my brain folds TW for mention of food poisoning and hospitals (comedic purposes) but if you're in a place where this might make you uncomfortable i strongly suggest you avoid this post and i'll see you for the lando series update tomorrow, take care

liked by georgerussell63, lewishamilton, mickschumacher and 295,953 others

ynusername favourite necklace

view all 63,029 comments

georgerussell63 I so desperately wish my ability to read would disappear.

ynusername you got us in this mess now suffer the consequences georgerussell63 I didn't do shit, it's entirely on your shoulders.

mickschumacher why aren't you holding them

ynusername no hand holding before marriage please

houseofwebber if they ever break up you'll see me on the news actually

eastcoastbearman babe wake up micky/n are alive

lewishamilton Embarrassing.

ynusername just like this comment

liked by georgerussell63, logansargeant, mickschumacher and 590,201 others

ynusername took the dog out for a walk

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rothgothgasly stop calling me single in 29 different languages

albonite PARENTS ARE PARENTING

julyestie maman and papa

filipe3596 Hi God it's me again

setbackhamilttel mick the type of guy to say "i don't argue with my girl she tells me to shut up and i do"

ynusername it's true mickschumacher yeah setbackhamilttel THE LEGENDS REPLY!?

liked by estebanocon, totowolff, ynusername and 890,294 others

mickschumacher visiting my favorite corpse

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ynusername EXCUSE YOU I CAN EAT SOLID FOODS NOW

mickschumacher i did that on day 4 get good ynusername sorry that my guts aren't as cool as yours mickschumacher let me rearrange them, then ynusername that was smoother than my throw up

mclandolorian HE ESCAPED

baconforza weren't you also a corpse like 2 days ago

armstrongslayer ARE THE RUMOURS ABOUT THE FAKE DATING TRUE

ynusername anything to piss george off

liked by mickschumacher, lewishamilton, georgerussell63 and 201,506 others

ynusername if a doctor sees this for legal reason these are old pictures :)

view all 80,577 comments

lewishamilton And to think this all could've happened sooner had you people had the balls to say what should've been said.

ynlantern just like a bowl of cereal that's been collecting dust for an hour, it's still delicious in the end innit lewishamilton All's well that ends well, I guess.

vertiddieenjoyer the only people on earth that can go on a first date after 12 months of dating

nandogoat ao3 friends to lovers, fake dating, only one bed, 294k words, alternative universe - europe, no beta we die like mick's career in haas

osc_pastry i don't think they realize how funny this is to watch from the sidelines

pic credits: instagram and pinterest

blog taglist: @coffeehurricanes @iifloweringnightsii @jsjcue @lanando4 @fastcarsandshit @christianpulisic10 (hi besties hope you're having a lovely evening and you aren't also crying about the qatar quali)

#mick schumacher #mick schumacher x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 instagram au #f1 social media au #f1 smau #instagram au #social media au #mick schumacher imagine

[yandere-writer-momo]

I cut out the sex scene because it bordered on Noncon. This is pure horror, it’s not even meant to be seen as romantic.

Yandere Baki Short Stories: Monster

Yandere Cheater Hanayama x Afab Reader

TW: HORROR, Suicide (fake death), depressing themes, angst, delusion, Yandere behavior,etc

(Your name) blankly stared at the passport in her hands. this was it… She was finally leaving her neglectful husband. She would turn over a new leaf and live her life for herself for once.

No more arranged marriage. No more loneliness. No more sleepless nights from the women he’d bring to his room. (Your name) would finally be at peace.

The wind ran its fingers through her hair and tousled a bit. She wished the comfort was an actual person rather than the icy wind but life didn’t quite work out that way. She was a woman born into a crime family but she had no interest in continuing the legacy her family intended her to.

(Your name) had no desire to be a pawn piece used as a peace treaty amongst the rival family. She wanted love. She wanted to live. (Your name) didn’t want to be the submissive, demure wife of an oyabun who constantly fraternized with other women.

She tried to make it work, she truly did. She tried talking to him whenever she had the chance, she tried to cook for him, organize his schedule, do his paperwork, and she even tried to get him to walk with her in his rose garden, but he’d flat out ignore her. She merely wanted to make their relationship tolerable, she wouldn’t even care if he wanted to continue to see those promiscuous women so long as they were amicable with each other. Yet he hated her because she was the daughter of the rival gang that killed his father.

Hanayama Kaoru was as cold as ice. His heart permanently locked up and unthawable. If (your name) stayed in that manor and went through with the marriage, she had no doubt she’d be miserable with him for the rest of her life… so she did what any sane person would do. She ran.

(Your name) would start a life in a different country with a new name. She would be selfish… faking her death wasn’t even a hard task to do. She simply wrote some depressing diary entries that would bring an angsty teen to shame. She even wrote a suicide letter.

Poor, clumsy (your name) jumped off a cliff and drowned in the murky ocean never to be seen again. It was fool proof.

(Your name) adjusted the sunglasses on her face and continued her journey into the airport. Her small suitcase rolled behind her, the wheels clacked against the brick road.

It was the start of a dream… or so she thought.

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Hanayama laid in his bed in thought. Where was she? (Your name) would usually be here around nine in the morning to make sure he was up…

Hanayama sat up in his bed and pushed the woman that was draped across his chest off. His dark eye turned toward the door. Why wasn’t she here?

Hanayama wrapped a robe around his bare body and made his way out of his room. He ignored the grumbles of his latest bed warmer to instead try to figure out where his wife was. Why wasn’t she here?

Hanayama noticed how quiet the manor was and it unnerved him…

Hanayama was shocked to see there was no breakfast made for him in his office and no (your name) in there to greet him… where was she?

Hanayama then paused. Maybe she decided to leave him alone like he asked?

Hanayama sighed and nodded. Yes… that’s what happened. She must have finally decided to listen to him!

And so Hanayama went on to continue his day but the dread in his stomach hadn’t gone away.

His gut knew there was something horribly amiss.

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A week had gone by since Hanayama had last seen (your name). His glass of water was no longer full beside him and his desk was unorganized. Hanayama’s meals weren’t made correctly and his schedule was in disarray.

A week without her and Hanayama now realized just how much his wife did… and it bothered him.

Hanayama stood outside the door of her room with a frown. He should talk to her… he needed her help with the paperwork.

“Wife. Are you in there?” Yet there was no response. He felt his hair stand up on his arm as alarm bells loudly rung in his head. She always answered him… she would have ran to him if he came to see her first.

Hanayama slid the door open to her room and was shocked to see how plain it was. This room didn’t look like it belonged to the wife of an oyabun. This room looked like a servant’s. Where were the decorations and the clothes?

Hanayama felt his stomach twist when he noticed just how little she owned and how cold it was in here. Was this why she’d ask for blankets? Why she wanted to go shopping?

Hanayama felt guilt sink into him. He was an awful husband- what was that?

Hanayama began to tremble in fear at the letter on her desk. His hands shakily opened it to read its contents. And not even after the first paragraph, he ran out the door.

She couldn’t have killed herself… she wouldn’t have. She loved being here with him. She loved him. She’d never do that.

Hanayama ignored the shouts of his men as he ran onto the cliff behind the Hanayama compound. His heart drummed in his ears from his scared he was. She was okay… she didn’t actually do it…

But the sandals at the edge of the cliff told Hanayama everything he needed to know.

Hanayama’s hands shook as he picked up the dainty, worn out sandals. Tears gathered in his eyes in realization.

(Your name) jumped off this cliff and it was all his fault…

Hanayama heard his men shout as they paused behind him in shock.

“Send out a search party to find my wife’s body.” Hanayama ordered his men who obeyed. They quickly left him to his own devices.

Hanayama held the sandals close to his chest as the tears began to fall. His wife… his poor wife.

This was all his fault.

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(Your name) really loved her life in Hawaii. It was such a beautiful island and the people were so friendly!

(Your name) smiled as she laid in the sun to tan. She wondered if Hanayama was finally happy since she was out of his hair?

She shook her head to get rid of the thought. Why did she care if her neglectful husband was happy? It’s not like he ever cared about her happiness…

Hanayama never went on walks with her and he never ate a single meal with her. Hell, they never consummated their marriage. He went to bed with some other woman on their wedding night just to let her know how he felt about her.

Hanayama probably left for joy when he found that letter. He no longer had to deal with such an awful wife and he was free to do whatever his heart pleased so (your name) should do the same.

(Your name) went back to enjoying her drink. It was better to forget the old life she had, it’s not like Hanayama ever cared about her in the first place.

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(Your name)’s funeral was practically empty save for Hanayama and Kizaki. It made Hanayama feel even worse that her own family didn’t even come.

Her body was never found either so her sandals would be buried. It made this whole ordeal even more depressing.

Hanayama had read her diary and was so distraught to find out just how much she cared for him. Of how she had originally really wanted their relationship to work since she didn’t have love at home. But she eventually just wanted to be friends if he didn’t want to ever touch her. To at least be civil with one another if he couldn’t love her.

(Your name) would write about how she had always wanted to go on a date or just a walk in his rose garden. Of how she just wanted to spend time with the husband that hated her. Of how she’d like to start gaze with him and listen to his troubles… he never deserved her.

Hanayama felt like the worse man in the world because she had ended her own life to make him happy. To leave him alone like he wanted her to… but he no longer wanted that.

“They always say you don’t know what you have until it’s gone…” Hanayama whispered as he placed a rose on (your name)’s casket. “I will never touch anyone else ever again. I will atone for my sin of neglecting you.”

Kizaki frowned at how distraught his boss was. (Your name) was a really sweet young woman but he didn’t think Hanayama would be so affected by her death. He’d give him time to move on, Kizaki was sure Hanayama would be back to normal in no time…

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Hanayama now slept in (your name)’s old room. It was so cold in there but he felt closer to his wife… like she was here with him.

Hanayama would bury himself into her pillow and inhale her soft scent every night to help him sleep. He missed her so much… he missed his beautiful wife.

Hanayama often dreamt of her smiling at him when she used to bring him breakfast. Of how her face would light up whenever she’d ask about the rose garden… he swore he heard her voice from time to time. (Your name) haunted him.

Sometimes he’d dream that she was still here and she was pregnant with their first child. Vivid images conjured in his mind of her smiling face as the two of them had a picnic together in the rose garden she loved so much. Or maybe even the two of them visiting Hawaii together so she could swim with the dolphins?

Hanayama would never forgive himself for what he destroyed. For how he pushed his wife to do such a horrible thing. Hanayama would punish himself till the day he died for being the reason such a sunny person was snuffed out of existence.

“I miss you so much, (your name). I’m sorry… I’m sorry.”

Hanayama apologized to her every night in her room, he just wanted her back… he wanted his wife back so he could make it all better to her.

If she reappeared before him, he’d be the perfect man for her. Hanayama would take her out on dates and have her sit beside him as he did paperwork. He’d sleep beside her and he’d make love to her every night.

Hanayama would be the ideal husband if she was alive. Yet that was all a dream he had… or so he thought.

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Half a year had went by and Hanayama looked worse for wear. He had bags under his eyes and his face was a bit gaunt. Kizaki began to be worried sick about Hanayama.

“How about a vacation?” Kizaki offered Hanayama. “You could go to Hawaii?”

Hanayama felt his heart clench at the mention of that island. (Your name) had always wanted to visit there… she wrote about it in her diary.

Kizaki frowned at Hanayama until the large man rose up. “Yes… I think that’s will be nice.”

Hopefully Hanayama pulled himself together on that little trip.

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Hanayama felt his heart stop when he arrived to the hotel in Hawaii. There she was… there was (your name)! But how was she alive? Was this some sick twist of fate?

“I can help whosever next-“ (your name) felt her eyes nearly bulge out of her head when he ex husband stood before her. What was he doing here-

She was suddenly pulled over the counter and into his large arms as he latched onto her like a lifeline. His face buried into her hair while his nose greedily inhaled her scent. She was real… she was alive!

(Your name) tried to pull away from him but Hanayama’s grip was inescapable. His whole body trembled in relief. “(Your name)… I’m so happy you’re alive. Let’s go home.”

“I think you’re mistaken-“ (your name) gasped when Hanayama suddenly kissed her. His large lips practically swallowed hers in a hungry kiss. Why was her ex husband so strange? He’s never cared about her before, hell, he’s never kissed her before. So why did he act like they were long lost lovers?

“Let’s go home. I’m going to make everything right this time. I think the boat is still at the dock so this must be destiny...” (Your name) could do little to change the Oyabun’s mind. The giant threw her over his shoulder like a savage as he carried her out of her job at the hotel.

“Hanayama, please let me down-“

“I read your diary every single day since you disappeared. I’m going to make it all right.” Hanayama quietly rambled. “I will live the rest of my life as your one and only husband. There will never be anyone else, if you want I’ll get rid of them.”

“That’s unnecessary-“

“It is necessary.” Hanayama interrupted her with a sigh. “I have to atone for my grave sin of negligence.”

Hanayama set her down on the boat before he gestured to the bewildered crew to take them back to Japan. The silence was so thick, a knife could cut through it.

A few moments went by, the sound of waves and the engine of the boat their only soundtrack until Hanayama’s deep voice spoke up.

“When we get home, we can walk together in the rose garden.” Hanayama engulfed her small hands in his large palms. “We can have another wedding and this time, we can consummate our marriage properly.”

Hanayama sighed dreamily when he brought her hands up to cup his cheeks. “I’ll spoil you this time around. I forgive you for your little runaway attempt but this time I’m never letting you go.”

(Your name) gulped as pure terror swallows her whole. This man was no longer her old husband, this was a man who had gone completely insane with guilt to the point he didn’t realize what reality was… this was a monster.

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