#Raspberry wedding

[morethansalad]

Vegan Charcuterie Board

[michimonie]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAFFY DUCK!

Here's hoping this 87 year old looney duck has a giant cake and group of enemies friends to keep him company.

[nickywhoisi]

an idea that wouldn't leave my brain alone until I made it exist

Reblog > Likes, Thank you!

[sunsetmaiden]

[cakemeistro]

The part favour that is oh-too-smooth! Presenting the #RaspberryMousse #CakeShooters! The tart taste of the #Raspberry coupled with the lux, indulgently smooth mousse is a marriage made in heaven! This will be a great complement to your dessert table at your next event!

.

**No DMs** Email me with enquiries and to order — info@cakemeistro.com

.

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#cakes #cake #londoncakes #londoncakemaker #londoncakedecorator #londoncakedesigner #cakedesign #cakeart #cakemeistro #cakestagram #cakesofinstagram #londoncake #cakestudio #londoncakestudio #cakedecorating #cakedecorator #cakedesigner #cakeartist #mousses #explorepage #londoncakeartist #cakeslondon #cakelondon #cakemakerlondon

#desserttable #desserttables #mousse

[tancamera]

White Chocolate Raspberry Cupcake Wedding Dress

[sylviacox]

White Chocolate Raspberry Cupcake Wedding Dress

[shuruqharb]

White Chocolate Raspberry Cupcake Wedding Dress

[unbronzebitch]

Assigned Left Twix At Birth

[machveil]

Simon “Ghost” Riley Fic Recommendations🎀✨

this post will contain sfw and nsfw content - nsfw below the cut! please support the writers!! they deserve a lot of love for sharing their fics with us<3 comment, reblog, and like their posts - there are over thirty (30+) authors here! I feel like I assembled the Simon Riley writers Avengers haha

SFW:

from our lovely @dmitriene, domestic kisses with Simon

@go-go-gadget-autism kindly gave us SuburbanDad!Simon

@manicrouge wrote water gun training with Dad!Simon, Dad!Simon and his nails, and Dad!Simon drawing

wonderful @ink-n-shadow wrote SoftDad!Simon

@novasintheroom gave us body comfort with Simon

@drop-cherries wrote birthday comfort with Simon

@sunni-stuff wrote Simon gifting you a sketchbook

a fun one from @feralforfrank, TikTok binge with Simon

@starsofang wrote a cute fic about LittleSpoon!Simon

@qwimblenorrisstan wrote about cuddling with TF141 (+ Roach)

@lxvvie graced us with blowing raspberries on Simon’s tummy

@fishsinsareacknowledged wrote Simon staring at you

@gothghostiie gave us Simon taking care of his sick little

three sweet fics from @urmomschocolatemilk - TF141 with a Reader that likes coloring books, Biker!Simon, and AnimalLover!Simon

@ghostsangel wrote QuietYapper!Simon, low-key really funny

@the-palelady posted this Simon coded video

a personal favorite author, @writersdrug posted Bartender!Simon taking care of mean customers - from their collective Bartender!Simon works!!

and, to end off on wedding bells, @the-whispers-of-death gave us slow dancing with Simon

please make sure to read content warnings (CW) and/or trigger warnings (TW)! your comfort comes first, check the fic before you read it<3

NSFW:

rounding back to dmitriene!! Simon creaming your pussy, Simon eating better, and Simon’s jeans

back at it again with ghostsangel - catching Simon’s eye and Simon playing with you

@void-my-warranty blessed us with OlderBF!Simon waxing you

four fics from @nighttimealone - oral with Simon, waking up before Simon, reader living with the 141 men, and GymOwner!Simon

@gazlightmehardergazzy wrote about TF141 and their favorite positions

followed up by @devil-in-hiding with goofy moments during sex with TF141

@amaranthinespirit gave us soft oral with Simon

our lovely @evilgwrl wrote Munch!Simon, Simon popping a boner, Possessive!Simon, somno with Simon, and period sex with Simon

@feralgoblinqueen wrote Simon giving oral

@moldycigarette gave us a little size kink

@last-starry-sky also giving us some Short!Reader

gothghostiie, back again, with SoftDom!Ghost

very sweet, @sherriesherbet gave us rough and tender Simon

@skyrigel wrote Simon fucking you dumb

back to writersdrug, a fan favorite, Bartender!Simon getting off

@sunsetsimon popped off and wrote BlueCollar!Simon

a handful of fics from @simonsrileyhusband - Simon x Glasses!Reader, one more Glasses!Reader, cnc and somno, PervyNeighbor!Simon, and PervyBF!Simon

reblogged from a deactivated account, MeanBF!Simon

@konigslittleliebling wrote a stunning piece on Simon getting a noise complaint

to contrast that, @bi-writes wrote Mute?Simon

a blog that specializes in fics and links, @codnasties gave us a video exchange with Simon, cnc, driving Ghost, and a size kink

and, icing on the cake, @tacticalprincess wrote Ghost and König

[morethansalad]

Spicy Ginger and Berry Trifles (Vegan)

[moonbunscafe]

Sheesh, what a messy wedding. Raspberry jam is all over the place! :T

[artdcnaldson]

daddy cat i have thoughts about newly divorced art and a girl who takes her time getting him hard :( and he feels so loved because he doesn’t have to focus on getting it done as fast as possible to please someone

exactlyyyy exactly mhmm

Thinking that he had a string of failed hookups out at bars where he was trying to fuck in bathrooms or in his car and it just didn't happen because he wanted it but his body wasn't cooperating. He was on the wrong side of drunk or the nerves and pressure was too high, and he ended up getting laughed off by the pretty girl beneath him.

So I think he gets away from hookups he finds in a bar or club for a while. Maybe he meets you at a wedding— one of his young cousins is finally tying the knot, and you're a friend of the bride. Sweet, friendly, gorgeous. He probably looks like a creep, the way he stares at you because he's too nervous to actually say something.

Which is stupid. He won seven slams in his career. He's a tennis superstar, a household name. He bumps into you at the dessert table after they've cut and served the wedding cake— the layer he gets is white cake with raspberry filling. You get a slice of the groom's cake— chocolate with espresso cream.

"Hey... you're Art Donaldson, right?" You ask as you take a tiny bite of the cake. When he nods, you smile. "I thought so, but Kayla— that's my friend from high school— well, she swore you were just some guy. So I googled you, and I was like, no that's definitely him. Anyways, do you want a drink?"

You both have a glass of the bride's signature cocktail (vodka cran), then another, before you're on the dance floor together. It starts off innocent enough, but then there's more drinks flowing, and guests start leaving, and the music gets weirdly better as the night goes on. You're both a little handsy and it's not long before you're stumbling back to his Jeep in the parking lot.

It was a post-divorce impulse buy. An impulse buy with a nice, roomy back seat. Plenty of space to tug you onto his lap, pull down your dress, and mouth at your tits in the backseat.

You reach down, palming him through his fancy suit pants. You pause, blinking a few times, and work the buttons of his pants so you can actually take him into your hands. You try to coax him to full hardness, but he's already flagging. He groans in frustration as his body just won't. fucking. cooperate. He wants you, he knows he wants you, he's just... fuck.

"Sorry," he pants, meeting your gaze with a look that can only be read as sheer mortification. "Shit, it's just... this is... sorry—"

"It's okay," you whisper against his mouth, so his stammered apologies are silenced. You spit into your palm and wrap your hand around his cock again, holding eye contact as you slowly stroke him. "Just relax. We have all night."

You mouth at his throat, his jaw. You trail your lips over the shell of his ear and he melts. He's like putty in your hands as you give him all of your attention— give him the chance to relax and work his way up to it. He moans against your ear and you smile. "That's it," you praise, working your hand faster. "I've got you."

[kissitbttr]

cake testing with miguel for the wedding!

a/n: featuring a very possessive miguel

continuation from this!

—

it has been one of your favorite wedding plans that you always look forward to. When your best friend got married, she took you with her to help her choose which one was the best. The caterer brought six classic flavors and both of your eyes twinkled with excitement. The same goes for your best friend. You and her almost demolished that one special raspberry lemon cake with her, since both of you have a sweet spot for fresh fruits.

You could guess which one ended up at the wedding reception.

And now, getting to do it with your soon to be husband, Miguel, just seems like a dream come true.

"So, Darla isn't gonna be with us since she's got errands to run, her assistant is going to replace her today." You inform your fiancee as he drives.

He squeezes your thigh with his hand as an answer, focusing his eyes on the road. You look up from your phone to watch him drive. A smile graces upon your lips as you think how good he looks while doing it. Furrowed eyebrows in concentration, a small pout on his lips with one hand on the wheel.

Fuck, he looks absolutely delicious.

Miguel senses your gaze on him, causing him to glance at you for a second before a grin spreads across his handsome face.

"What?"

You shrug. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Look sexy while driving"

He snorts out a laugh before making a turn. "I don't"

it's your turn to snort as you shake your head. "Humbleness is good. But God you're a liar."

"Ah, si? But you do love me, no?"

"Unfortunately" You answer, causing him to pinch the inside of your thigh making you giggle. "If we're not on our way to the boutique, I would hop on that dick right now"

He groans at that, eyes shutting briefly as the thoughts of you riding him in the car fill his mind. And seeing the seductive smirk on your face and how divine you look in that white sundress, it's already hard enough.

''Just say the word and I'll pull over mami." He's dead serious. You could see his hand gripping tightly around the wheel.

"And be late? No can do. Plus, I dressed really nicely for today and I do not want to ruin that."

"We can be quick" He tries again, smirking at you. "20 minutes top."

"Knowing you, it could never be 20 minutes. An hour and a half maybe." You point out, re-applying the gloss on your lips before smacking it. "And that's why I'm always late to work"

"You're killing me here, Y/N." He sighs loudly, pulling over to where the boutique is. "I never hear you complain about you being late when my cock is buried deep in your pussy, anyway."

You feign an offensive look as you slowly turn your head at him, shooting a soft glare. "Excuse me? What happened to getting rid of the first-name basis?!"

Yes. You made it clear from the start of the relationship that you refuse to be called by your first name anymore. It simply just won't cut it. You made sure to give him hell every time he called you that, even if he had done it by accident. Miguel was silently pulling his hair because you can be quite mean about that. Though he won't admit how you driving him insane is sexy. Like, really, fucking sexy.

it's a turn-on for him at this point.

"Shit, my bad" He parks the car as you both get ready to walk out. "Sorry baby." He leans over to peck your lips with his hand still on your thigh. The action makes you smile.

“That’s better”

Miguel gets out first, not allowing you both to walk out at the same time because he wants to be the one who opens the car door for you. Despite you telling him that you're perfectly capable of doing that by yourself, he argues with the fact that gentlemen always open doors for their women. Your heart does a somersault every time. It never goes away.

"Got everything, mi amor?" He asks as he extends his hand which you take, before shutting the door. You nod at him, and the two of you walk into the boutique hand in hand. "Dios... You look so good right now, I might just have to fuck you out here"

You gasp at that, slapping him in the chest, earning a low chuckle from him. "Easy there, tiger. I'm not going anywhere" You scold him but secretly love it when his filter's off

“How can i take it easy when your… Girls look so inviting?” His eyes glances at your breasts being pushed up by the cups of your dress, gulping at the sight. “They want me to play with them” A pout on his lips making your heart melt.

“Ugh, Miggy! please do not call them girls” You whine, shaking your head. “I thought we agreed on ‘tits’? Just tits.”

“Alright, alright fine… You’re no fun sometimes” He jokes, kissing your cheek. “Now, is this it?”

You nod, pushing your sunglasses up to the top of your head. “Darla said we can just walk right in.”

Miguel opens the door before allowing you to walk in first as he follows from behind. Red orbs scanning over the interior of the shop. It’s pretty. Lots of flowers in each corner, the paint is mostly pink and white.

“So is this where you and Darla had done the cake testing?” He asks, hand snaking around your waist.

“Yes! It’s so beautiful isn’t it? It’s like something coming out of fairytale or that ‘Enchanted’ movie we watched the other day. Darla really did amazing with this one. Though i did advice her to fix up the ceilings a bit and enhance the structure on that specific corner there.” You point with your manicured finger. “I offered to redesign and oversee the construction more. Just to help her a bit.”

He hums, squeezing your waist before planting a kiss on top of your head. “Look at you go… My little architect” He mumbles softly.

There’s no doubt on his mind that he’s proud of you. He loves seeing you work and help your friends who are in need. And that smart little brain of your is one of the things that made him fall in love with you in the first time. Jess had introduced you to him one time when he was scouting for a new architect to remodel the Spider Society’s HQ.

He was definitely entranced by your beauty when he saw you walked into his office with Jess by your side. You looked so sophisticated and elegant with glasses and the dress you had on that time. Long hair fixed into a messy bun as you shot him a smile before saying your name.

From that moment on, he was hooked. And made it his mission to make you his.

“Ms. Y/L/N and Mr. O’Hara?” Both of your ears perk at the sound of someone calling your names. You see a man, who’s probably in his late 20s emerging from the back with a smile. No doubt about it that he is quite handsome.

“Hi there! How are you? My name is Cameron, i’m Darla’s assistant. And my my, Darla didn’t say anything about her client being beautiful.” He chuckles as he lets out the joke. “She said you are stopping by for the cakes?” He flashes his toothy smile at you, and only at you.

Miguel frowns, at that. That doesn’t seem professional now, does it?

You choose to ignore that comment before smiling. “Yes, we are actually! I mean, I’ve done it with Darla about two weeks ago but my fiancé haven’t. So I’m bringing him, so he can taste it for himself.” Your hand squeezing your lover’s arm that is still settled around your waist.

The man nods, smiling as his eyes aren’t leaving yours which makes Miguel even more uneasy. And the way he looks at you from head to toe makes his blood boil.

He knows how men think, and he thinks. No, he knows that this asshole is basically undressing you with his eyes.

But Miguel is not the type create a confrontation. At least not anymore now that he’s with you. So he might’ve to push those feelings aside because he knows how much this means to you.

“Well step right here, I’ve prepared it all just for you, Ms. Y/L/N” He winks, gesturing you to follow him to where the cakes have been displayed.

Is he fucking serious?! Miguel thinks.

“So 6 different flavors, yes? Chocolate Lava, Lemon Raspberry, Strawberry Champagne, Red Velvet, Hazelnut Praline, aaand Hawaiian. That one is vegan” He checks off the last one on the list. “Customer’s favorite always been the Praline or Lemon Raspberry. You look like you deserve the latter. The best reserved only for the prettiest”

Again, you ignore his comment. “Oh well i tasted the Strawberry Champagne and it was amazing. But I’m leaving it to my fiancé here, so he can choose” You look up to him and notice there’s a slight frown on his face. “Baby?”

Miguel regains his composure when you call him, snapping him out of the thoughts of him killing Cameron in his mind. “Oh. Yeah yeah. Sure. You know my taste buds don’t matter just as long my woman is happy”

He makes sure to emphasize the words ‘my woman’ just so the guy can get the picture but he doesn’t seem too bothered by it.

“Well, we’re in this together so your taste does matter, as well.” You’re completely oblivious with the soft glare that Miguel throws at Cameron’s direction. Hands softly picking the forks from the table to cut a piece,

“Here. Let’s try the Chocolate—“

“Why don’t you feed it to me, mi amor?” He asks, looking at you with a smile. “One fork for two.”

If he can’t be violent then he’s got to find a way to make sure that this Cameron fellow understands that you’re fucking off limits.

You raise an eyebrow at the suggestion. “Sure, papi” You mirror his expression before cutting the cake, lifting it to feed him,

He takes a bite. Eyes dead set on the man who stands awkwardly from across, gaze looking anywhere but him.

“Hm” He nods. “That one’s good. Dark chocolate is it?”

“Right?” You ask cheerily. “Darla is amazing, i swear i need them all 6.” As you turn to fees yourself with the chocolate cake.

He shrugs, wiping a bit of the frosting from the corner of his mouth. “You’re the bride baby, you can have all 6 for the wedding, i don’t mind. I got the money for it anyway.”

You smile at him, kissing his jaw. “I love you, but we can’t be too greedy now can we?” A giggle escape your lips.

Oh he knows. He just wanted to make sure that son of a bitch gets it through his thick fucking skull that you’re his.

The two of you continue to feed each other’s cakes— more like you feeding it to him to be honest— rating each and every single one. Making sure to put a mental note on whichever you prefer before coming back next week and pick one.

Miguel glances at Cameron every now and then and watches how he stays quiet for the rest of it, letting you and Miguel do your thing. Probably too scared after seeing the intimidating look on his face.

“Gotta say, Strawberry Champagne and Chocolate one are amazing.” Miguel points, rolling the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. “You sure have a great taste, cariño. Confío en ti con todo.”

“Gracias, mi corazón” you put down the fork back on the table, smiling up at Cameron. “That’d be all i guess, yeah? But i think we’ll be back next week to pick one for sure. Will Darla be here?”

“She hasn’t said anything about it but uh, i-i’ll make sure” He stutters a bit, smiling nervously and trying to avoid Miguel’s death stare.

“Okay then. Well, thank you, Cameron for assisting us today. We have to get going now, still have a lot to work on” You offer a polite smile to his direction. “Shall we get going?”

Miguel nods, eyes still fixated on Cameron. “Yeah sure. But uh.. Can you wait for me by the car? I just need a few words regarding with the cakes with Cameron”

He’s not letting this off easy.

You watch how his eyes trained to the young employee, scrunching your brows as Miguel turns to look at you with a soft gaze. “It’ll be just a minute, baby.” He presses a reassuring kiss on your temple,

“Okay” You nod, smiling softly. waving a hand at Cameron before walking towards the exit. Soon as you’re out of their sight, Miguel turns his gaze back on Cameron. The young man looks like he’s about to piss in his pants.

The two stands in silence for a while as Miguel looks at him up and down.

“You ever gotten your ass kicked, Cameron?”

The question throws him off guard. Eyes widening while his mouth hangs open.

“S-sir?”

“It’s a question. Yes or no.”

“Well uhm, n-no sir” Cameron shakes his head. “Wha-“

“You do know that me and my girl came as a couple, yes? Or are you fucking blind?” Miguel’s eyebrow raises at him, arms crossed over his chest.

“I see that, Mr. O’Hara. I-i didn’t— I’m sorr-“

“You flirt with every customers? With their soon to be bride? Or is it just my woman you’re after?” He clicks his tongue against his teeth.

“N-no, Mr. O’Hara.”

“No as in what?”

“J-just her, i-i mean your woman.” He nervously confesses,

Miguel lets out a dry chuckle. “Let’s get one fucking thing straight, kid.” He leans forward, balling his fists before resting them on the table

“If you ever flirt with her, look at her or hell, if you even think about her when we come back next week, i will make sure no one remember how you look. And trust me when i say that this is not a threat but it’s a promise. Understood?” His voice laced with venom as he points his finger at Cameron’s chest who gulps,

Nodding quickly, he answers. “Understood.”

“Very well” Miguel retreats, taking a bottle of water from the table. “Stay away from my wife”

With that he walks out of the boutique, breathing out a heavy sigh, unscrewing the bottle cap before taking a gulp.

“How’s the interrogation goes?” You speak up with a playful smirk. “Did you manage to make him piss?”

He looks at you as he walks towards the car, shrugging. “I don’t know what you’re talking about” He replies.

Rolling your eyes, you cross your arms. “I saw you, papi. You almost kill the kid.”

“Again, i don’t know what you’re talking about.” He smiles innocently, both arms snaking around your waist to pull you close. Seems like a good kid. So i didn’t say anything”

A laugh escapes from your lips, one that he loves most—besides your perfect moans— “I know you, O’Hara. Like i said, a bad liar.”

“Alright fine, you caught me” He holds his hands up in defense. “He’s lucky i didn’t punch him.”

“That would be a sight for sore eyes.” You tease. “You know there’s nothing to be afraid of, right? Ain’t any other man could possibly steal my heart like you did three years ago.”

“Yeah well maybe if you stopped looking so fucking beautiful with your big pretty eyes and soft pouty mouth, then maybe men wouldn’t try to chase you off and i wouldn’t have 50+ competitions” He complains. But in reality he doesn’t mind.

“Oh excuse me, Mr? You don’t think i got one too?” You ask him through your lashes since his physique is towering you. “I had to put your ex back in her place at the Gala we attended three months ago, you remember? Slimy bitch.”

He laughs hard at that, head shaking at the memory of you confronting Dana was truly one of the unforgettable moments he has of you. “So, what’s next on the agenda?”

You look back at your phone before replying, “Seating arrangements on 112th street. Now this, we can use that 20 minutes up for something else since they’re running late.”

Miguel’s eyes harden as your finger running up and down his chest. “You mean—“

“Offer still stands. Want me to ride you while we wait?” You chew on your lower lip, gazing up at him and giving him your best doe eyes.

“Baby, if i ever said no to that question… Please feel free to grab my gun under my desk and shoot me in the head” He states, making you laugh as you throw your head back.

-

This feels like shit :/ I’m sorry but i need to clear out a few WIPs in my drafts

Though i still hope you all like it!

[cakemeistro]

New beginnings carry on the winds with this lovingly crafted wedding cake 🎂💐! Elements of spring scintillate the contours of this elegant piece, with complimentary pastel yellows and punctuated with a natural green from the foliage. The hexagon tiling provided such a lovely balance between the elegant design and robust, structural pattern. And the flavours 🤩 —

• #RaspberryAndLemon 🍋

• #VictoriaSponge 🍰

• #CarrotCake 🥕

• #CookiesAndCream

It all came together lovely.

•

Getting married? Let’s talk cake. **No DMs** Email me with enquiries and to order — info@cakemeistro.com

.

.

#cakes #cake #londoncakes #londoncakemaker #londoncakedecorator #londoncakedesigner #cakedesign #cakeart #cakemeistro #cakestagram #cakesofinstagram #londoncake #cakestudio #londoncakestudio #cakedecorating #cakedecorator #cakedesigner #cakeartist #explorepage #londoncakeartist #cakeslondon #cakelondon #cakemakerlondon #cookiesncream

[running-with-kn1ves]

Could you do Orc Tribal Leader X Reader on your wedding night?

A/N: I SWEAR I'm literally just writing the same stuff over again b/c I had a story just like this, but you know what I never get tired of it because its like a top fantasy bro. Hope this one was better than that version at least

Content warnings: Forced Marriage, kidnapping, attempted escapes, nonconsensual touching, infantilization of reader  

Synopsis: Your village, destroyed and burned. Your life picks up somewhere you would never have imagined. Maybe, death is a better option than being an orc’s spouse. 

Word Count: Approx. 2600 

The autumn solstice was a bountiful, beholden time of year. From the greeneries of cabbage and the fowls hatched in summer now fully grown, there was much to be harvested and ripened for the taking. Your town was boisterous, full of life with a variety of competitors and businesses attempting to lurch at any tourist’s or local’s wallet to get them to buy countless crops, meat, and woven goods.  

Your tiny tea shop, suffering from last July’s drought, was finally starting to perk up with re-growth. Black tea, jasmine, bergamot, even hybrid blends like crushed raspberry and chamomile-- you could assemble enough to raise prices, label the small reaping as an imported foreign good luck charm that when drunken, blessed women with marriage prospects and men with wealth.  

That was, before however, you became bound and gagged to a chair, pleasantries being exchanged around you in a language harsh in your ears. The fires... You remember them well, the putrid stench of charred meat from the butcher next door, his body even more ablaze. Your jade boxes of fine silk bags meant for holding gifts of tea, becoming laden with ash and dust. Every scrap of money you saved up under the floorboards disappearing into floating particles and melted coins.  

“Brutes,” Your uncle called them, “deranged beasts with only two things in mind: bloodlust and greed.” 

Orcs were not well-received in a conservative, fearful town of humans. Even the elves, seen as symbols of beauty in mortal standards, were causes of paranoia and irritation whenever they made their rounds nearby.  

It was no wonder that the lines of tusked, olive-fleshed creatures in animal skin were spotted, the guards of your small city went on a rampage. Bows and arrows were no match for iron bones and teeth of steel.  

You, were no match for anything wider than a tree trunk. So when fire caught to your village, your home now rampaged for its finest ‘offerings’ to the orcs, you were left to be eaten by the licking flames. And yet, was it a blessing or a curse that one of the warriors decided to haul you on his back, doting on how “nicely you’ll do” as a wedding gift. You didn’t realize that the gift was to be part of the ceremony yourself.  

With smoke in your lungs and your eyes blurred by dirt and ash, you watched the ceiling cave in on your tiny tea-filled shack, bright orange and red dancing from behind the window panes as you drifted away.  

Daraktan is spoken all around you, harshly and with flicking tongues. You can hear snippets of English, wondering what’s going on behind the black veil covering your head. You don’t dare remove it, recalling what the orc woman, supposedly your now husband’s ‘mother’ telling you in your native tongue.  

“Touch this, and you will surely die. My alfhild will remove it, when it is time.”  

And so, you wait. Digging your fingernails into your palms, crying quietly in heavy furs and leather, the occasional hand coming to pull your shaky one to their mouths, kissing the tip of your index finger.  

“Aka’magosh..” They mumble to you, seemingly more at the body to your right. 

The calloused hand of someone much larger than you, whom you have assumed is your husband from his constant appearance nearby, occasionally comes to grace your back, to rest a hand on the top of your head, to smoothen your veil or the soft fur shawl on your legs.  

His hearty laugh hurts your ears, the jingles of the metal jewelry he adorns constantly making noise as he shifts.  

“Please..” You whisper, praying, to whoever may be listening. Why you? Why, out of all the fair, eligible humans of your town, were you picked out from the rubble to be “saved”? To be married to a faceless orcish man, who would surely break you in half before morning? 

The bitter cold of coming winter brushes against your legs. You can feel that you’re not inside wooden walls, and yet unnatural lighting seems to shine through your veil at times.  

“Omulork, I think I will take my… wedding gift, to be with in solitude.” 

Loud, deep laughs fill the room, the guttural voices of female orcs being swallowed up by uncountable numbers of warriors surrounding you. Your body shivered as a gust of wind blew in, the autumn breeze barely being kept at bay from where you sat.  

“Enjoy the festivities, shedzvagas!”  

His unique husk leaves everyone in the room to cheer in their orcish language, tough and painful pats coming to your back, the festive shakes to your shoulder nearly making you topple. 

That same heated, abrasive hand comes to grab your roped wrists, lurching you firmly, yet gently from your place on the ground. Panic started to fill your stomach as it rose to your chest, the warm aura of an orc next to you radiating to heat you from the chilly weather outside.  

Now. It was now or never. You didn’t want to think anymore what he would do to you when you were alone, when you had no one to cry to for help.  

Your feet moved before the thought finished crossing your mind. Your hands shook as you stumbled in a sprint forward. You passed thick bodies as you ran blindly, making it a mere five steps before a pair of meaty hands grabbed you by the hips. 

“A feisty one, Gar’mak!” The sounds of the orc woman who forced you into your wedding attire spoke up, a drunken laugh leaving her plump lips. “Alfhild, better not leave it out of your sight.” 

You hated how clear the English they used was to your ears, how human they all sounded, how when they spoke in your native tongue-- it was meant for your ears. She wanted you to know, to let the fear soak into your chattering teeth.  

The orc keeping you captive merely laughed, tossing your weightless body to his shoulder just like he had done when pulling you from the cobble of what was left of your tea shop. 

You screamed, biting down on what you could reach from under your veil. But the salty, thick flesh from beneath you was aloof, offering no reaction as a double pat was brought to your buttocks.  

“Now now, Djenifor, don’t fuss.” Gar’mak mused, each step he took forward making your body thump against his. He held a tight grip on you, not caring for the scratches you layered his back with. “I won’t try to hurt you… I will keep you safe, try my best to keep your fragile body in one piece.”  

The coldening night air was a drastic change to the room of heavy body heat and weighty movement where the wedding ritual and festivities were held. Now, it was quiet. You could hear the loud chattering begin to drift, songs and chants rising again as they once had when you were unceremoniously married to your new ‘husband.’  

Gar’mak patted your butt again, moving down to rub at the back of your thigh with a gentle, firm rhythm. He seemed to hum to himself, satisfied with the nights events. Scored himself a spouse and the treasured belongings of a human town.  

He must be pretty proud of himself, you seethed.  

The tears were beginning to sting the corners of your eyes, frantically scratching at the orcs back when you felt the warmth of an enclosed area meet your skin.  

“No, no--” You began to kick, trying to shove off the arm holding you steady on the orcs’ shoulder.  

“Settle down now--” Gar’mak ordered softly, putting you down on the fuzzy ground. You managed to hit his face, the hard scrape of tusks scratching your hand as a firm nose nearly cracked your knuckles.  

The orc went silent. Quiet in rage, he rips your veil away with a grip hard enough to tear hair out if he so desired.  

Your eyes take a moment to adjust to the dimly lit tent, lanterns glowing at the corners as the mass of a creature leers over you. You forgot just how… big, orcs were. From afar they looked small, bigger than a human, but no threat due to distance. But now… he was above you, twice your height, twice your size, twice if not thrice everything. His palm the size of your skull, his eyes gleaming and looking over your body, weak with exhaustion and fright.  

Small, intentional scars were placed under his auburn eyes, some kind of tribe symbol you were sure. Thick eyebrows furrowed at the way tears decorated your cheeks, the exhales from his flat nose blowing hot breath on your chest.  

“Please, I, I can’t, I don’t belong--” You fumble over yourself, trying to slide back on the floor of soft wolf and caribou furs.  

“Shh, shh now,” The orc puts a hand to your ankle, an action that jerks you to a stop. “I won’t hurt you, lebam…” 

You sincerely doubt that, but the sentiment sounds genuine from his broken, baritone voice. 

“What’s your name?” He asks, pulling slowly with immeasurable strength at your leg. You slide towards him with little strain, even with your muscles going rigid for you to stand your place, your fingernails digging into the ground beneath you.  

You shake out your name, reluctant to give it.  

“Ah. What a human name; a scared wee human, aren’t you?” 

You don’t dare to respond, waiting for the sound of your snapping ankle. 

“They call me Gar’mak, though that may be too difficult for simple human brains. Mak is fine, little Djenifor…” 

You don’t want to call him anything, to refer to him at all-- yet, he looks keen to hear you say it. There’s an expectation in his eyes, a flick of his giant tongue against his lips.  

“Mak..” You mumble, trying not to gag.  

“Yes…” The orc’s hand frees your leg, caressing up to your cheek as he wipes away a forgotten wet stream of tears.  

“Please, just let me go--” You beg under your breath, scared of the way he seems to be eyeing your knees, your frail neck, your round ears.  

“You know that’s not going to happen,” He doesn’t seem angry at you for asking, just… Sorry. “We are bound forever now; even the gods couldn’t tear us apart. Wherever you go, I will find you. Whenever I leave, you will feel me gone. By sunrise tomorrow your scars will be given, and you will become one of us.”  

The panic begins to settle once again in your stomach. Maybe, tonight, yes-- tonight, if you could escape. You could-- just maybe you could find a way, past their all-seeing eyes, their all-hearing ears, escape to the mountains they took to get you here. 

 “But can’t you change it back?” Your voice cracks, expression twisting into an ugly cry as you feel thick fingers dig into your hair. “Just, we can go back-- just let me be…”  

You sob for what feels like too long, hours maybe, Gar’mak’s eyes never leaving you as he pulls you to his thigh. He brings a cotton blanket to your legs as he shushes you, the tenderness of his eyes a foreign sight compared to the façade he forced you to endure during the night's festivities.  

When your cries had turned to miserable, quiet sniffles, a muscled knuckle finds its way under your chin. He turns your head to look at him, eyes red and droopy as you try to think of any method of escape.  

“You’ll learn to like it here, human.” Gar’mak thinks for a moment, caressing your leg with a single finger.  

 “We are far more civilized than your kind-- far more… Fair. You’ll be treated well. The spouses of warriors do not go unfed, unbathed. Unloved, most of all. You will be cherished; I will cherish you, as long as you let me.”  

The orc grips your jaw in his hand, firm enough to where his fingers made dimples in your cheeks, but softly to where you felt like a mouse in someone’s closing palm. A kiss was planted to your temple, your body pushed deep against your husband’s as he holds you close enough to suffocate. You wait for him to choke life from you, and yet it never comes. He is harsh with his touches, but not harsh enough to hurt.  

“Please, let's finish tonight how it was meant to go, hm? Let me hold you…” He murmurs, all soft and lamblike into your ear. It sends shivers down to your soles, hot breath layering your neck as he looks at your lips with such intensity.  

You fear saying no, but the word rises up to your throat.  

It doesn’t make it out in time. Lips engulf yours, the stiff coldness of bone-colored tusks brushing against your face as Gar’mak holds you tight. Just one kiss is enough to make his demeanor act up.  

Your unassuming, comfort-driven spot on his lap is altered swiftly. You find yourself straddling the orcs’ waist, a hand pressed against the back of your head as your tied hands remain useless against his chest.  

You don’t know whether to speak, to scream, to bite at his lips-- but you remain flexile, afraid of the rough hand holding your skull so tenderly, the other gripping your thigh to wrap around his flank. You’re like a resistant doll, licked lips becoming tender as the orc pushes against you with such tenacity.  

You see his eyes open, staring into your wide, unblinking ones. They seem to communicate more than just lust-- its desire, desire for your reciprocation.  

Gar’mak waits… he kisses you, eyes narrowed on standby for your submission. They’re hazy and make you wonder if this is enough to make him release his brutish side, the part that showed no mercy for your neighbors or your home. What would happen, if you broke away or dared to claw at him?  

That thought doesn’t stay for long, not when the tough hand on the back of your head moves to your neck, squeezing just enough to bruise.  

You wince, lips pursing in reaction just in time for his next tongued assault.  

That slight opening of your mouth, the press of your lips against his, is all he needed. You find yourself twisted beneath his body as you’re brought to lay on the furry floor, the orc lying above you.  

“That’s right, I’ll be soft Djenifor… just do as I command, keep smelling so sweetly for me.” 

Scars litter his shoulders and collarbone, metal necklaces and piercings dangling on his olive-green, lightly haired chest as you fear how much it would take for him to crush you.  

He’s so quiet, letting go of your mouth as the orc’s curled tongue licks a slow, wet stripe down your jaw. His hands grab your thighs to wrap your legs around him, intent on keeping you steady and so close you practically breathe the same air.  

Before he leans to kiss you feverishly again, the orc brushes your cheek with his knuckles, petting down the amalgamated fabrics you wear to commemorate your wedding.  

 “You’re so lucky I found you first, that I had saved you from that rubble without layering an extra scratch; my brethren would not be so kind.”  

He kisses your cheek, a soft, hungry grin playing on his plumped and tusked lips. “So stay pliant like this for me, wee human, and you won’t feel any pain.” 

You lay rigidly, squeezing your eyes shut as a tender, all-consuming kiss eats you up, preparing you for the night’s affairs.