Whuff, folks, this is a really really long one!! I hope you enjoy it - it kicked my butt and had to be re-written after I got 3k words in and got bogged down with backstory. 

(For reference, if this were a commission, at 12k words it'd be £120. You can read it now for $5/£4.50! You can also read all my back catalogue of Patreon stories too when you sign up. Browse my masterlist for free though here.)

Orcs came out pretty high on the 'favourite monsters' poll over on Patreon, so I went with two, and a satyr because I like sassy satyrs... 

Content: arranged marriage, strained parental relationship for the reader, gender and body neutral reader, childhood friends to lovers, some light D/s play, culturally accepted polyamory, consensual polyamory, penetrative sex, oral sex, a plug, and a lot of fluff because it's me. Wordcount: 12k (!) 

Final note: a 'scop' is the Old English/Anglo-Saxon word for a bard. I gave the reader's people Rohirrim/Anglo-Saxon vibes for this. 

“You’re giving me deja-vu summoning me over to you like that, mother,” you said with a wry drawl in your voice as you sauntered over to one of the two wooden thrones at the far end of the longhouse at her request, and warily eyed the sheaf of paper held casually between her first two fingers. “Last time you looked at me like that, I was twelve and I ended up fostered with the Mountain Clan for six years. Where are you planning on sending me this time?”

You'd meant it for a joke, but the look in her eyes immediately kindled a churning worry in the pit of your stomach when you spotted it, and your expression fell.

“Mother?”

“It wasn’t so bad in the end, was it?” she said archly, one eyebrow rising. “You still write to the warchief’s son on a monthly basis like a lovesick minstrel, though I’m honestly surprised those beasts can fathom out the alphabet.”

Actually, most orcs knew two alphabets: the Trade Tongue, and their own runic language.

Oooof this Patreon story is gonna be 10k words easily!!

First draft, unedited, 11,716 words.

Join up to my Patreon to read it tomorrow when I post it, as well as like a bajillion older stories from my free-to-browse masterlist.

Laces for a Lady - 18th century, poly, shifters x human romance - Chapter Seven (sfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me. 

Contents: some passing comments comparing two different female body types in a negative way, and some measurement taking and a dress fitting that leaves Nel a little breathless. Who knew Mr. Nancarrow had it in him to be so smooth. Mr. Darcy hand-flex fans, be warned...

Wordcount: 3931

Catch up here: Part One (sfw), Part Two (sfw), Part Three (sfw), Part Four (sfw), Part Five (sfw), Part Six (sfw)

Edmund flushed at Nel’s boldly obvious compliment, but was saved any further embarrassment by Mr. Fordyce announcing that it was Nel’s turn, and that he would have to take Nel’s measurements since he didn’t have them in his records as he did Winnie’s.

This time it was Nel whose face turned hot, but she met Edmund’s gaze again as he stepped forwards, rested his cane against the nearby table gently enough not to cause the arrangement of dried flowers in the centre even to quiver, and then he carefully passed the ribbon of paper around her waist. He kept his eyes down, but his long, delicate fingers moved with nimble grace as he held the paper and snipped the tailor’s marks in it which would correspond to the various locations of the measurements.

“And now inhale,” he murmured, and she obliged, letting her ribs inflate naturally. She could feel his knuckles pressing ever so slightly against her body through the fabric of the thinner, less structured dress she’d chosen for that day, and she tried not to shiver.

The art from the Magic: The Gathering cards Wedding Announcement and Wedding Festivity art by Caroline Gariba.

It is nice to see happy vampires enjoying themselves.

We need more vampire men with cleavage windows

i love that they have matching titty windows

the couple looking for a third you actually hope to find on tinder

Alpha ~ 🌸

wip~

Male orc x male selkie x reader - Part Two (nsfw)

Well, thanks for your enthusiasm for Part One, folks! And your tags on those reblogs made my whole month of April I think. I’m really pleased you were excited for more, so here it is!

Contents: light angst and misunderstandings, brief description of shark-bite-related scar, oral, anal (not to the reader), and a whole lot of fluff.

Wordcount: 5891 (story total: 14,900 or so)

Part One

___

The next week passed in a daze.

Your sister’s ship docked, you saw to all the admin and port documentation, spent six days catching up with her and her crew, until finally she reached for your hand across the table over supper and told you how miserable you looked. “I love you,” she said, brows furrowed with worry, “But seriously, what the fuck happened to you?”

After a roll of your eyes, you found yourself telling her at last. It all just spilled out of you in a garbled rush until you finished uncertainly. “I was only there one night, Lara,”  you sighed. “I’m crazy.”

To her credit, she had listened to all of it without interruption, and when you were done, she sat back in her seat. The hubbub of the restaurant filled your ears, alcohol buzzing slightly, but all you could really see was Thulin’s soft smile and Minnow’s dark, distrustful eyes. Something else had kindled in them though, back when he’d held you by the shoulders and glared at you, daring you to take that one last step across the little drawbridge in his mind. He’d opened it, but he couldn’t ride out to meet you, even with Thulin shoving him from behind.

“Why are you still here?” she asked at last.

“What? You know why. I’m here because you need me.” And they don’t.

“No I don’t,” she said. “And I say that with the greatest affection. You’ve sorted literally everything out for me already, including the harbour pilot for the next time we need to leave, I should add. Seriously, go back to them. They obviously both want you but the reefguard just didn’t know how to say it.”

“You think?”

“Honey, I know,” she laughed.

“You sure you don’t just want to get rid of me so you can fall back into the arms of some siren? Or maybe that enormous minotaur you keep around as your First Mate?”

She snorted. “Erik is about as gay as the day is long, sweetie. You really have no idea, do you?”

You shrugged, face heating, gut sinking. “Guess not.”

She rolled her eyes again. “I love you, but you need to listen to me when I tell you to fuck off back to them. You don’t connect with people just like that, sweetheart,” she said. “There’s got to be something special about this orc and his selkie. Don’t let it slip away.”

With a frown you searched her face for insincerity, but when you found only love and a hint of fond impatience, you downed the rest of your drink and stood. “I’ll go saddle the mare then.”

“Good. And give her a fucking name, will you?”

“Maybe I’ll name her after you,” you growled back. “She’s about as pushy as you are.”

“Then I’ll bet she’s always right too!” Lara called at your back as you left. You didn’t need to answer that one.

After riding through the night, the little whitewashed, stone cottage melted out of the violet dawn and your heart thudded in your throat.

Keep reading

Male orc x male selkie x reader - Part One (light nsfw)

Well. Here’s my first offering since… maybe February? You folks seemed keen when I mentioned it before, and since more of you asked me to split it into two parts than not, here’s the first part. Don’t forget to let me know you like it and considering a reblog and/or leaving me an ask/comment.

It ends on a bit of a cliffie, but fear not, readers. Trust me.

Content: thunderstorm, passing mention of past familial deaths, established mlm relationship, gender neutral reader, one male selkie who is truly terrible with words and has a lot of new feels that he doesn’t know what to do with, one extremely patient orc, and a strawberry roan mare who deserves her own palatial stable for being so long-suffering.

Wordcount: 8991

___

“Hello?”

Freezing rain seeped down the back of your neck as you stood in the dark with your mare stamping an understandably impatient hoof into a deep puddle behind you. The storm had swept in off the sea at around noon, and it had soon become blindingly obvious that you were not going to reach the port town of Fairwinds by the evening. You tasted salt spray on your tongue with every inhale, and it caked your clothes and hair while the wind bit deep into your cheeks.

“Come on. Stop that,” you hissed at the horse as muddy water splashed up the back of your flapping cloak, and you raised your elbow to ward off the mare’s retaliatory nip before her teeth got the chance to connect. “I know. I’m cold and wet and really fucking miserable too, madam.”

The locals at the inns along the winding Coastal Way had told spoken to you over their beers about the selkie colonies dotting the length of the road to the bustling port further north, and you’d listened with rapt attention. For all the diversity in the city, you’d never met a selkie, to your knowledge, and they tended to keep to themselves. The colonies nestled like clusters of limpets on the rocks, claiming the frothing, liminal space between sea and clifftop, some favouring small stone houses ashore while others simply donned their sealskins and shifted to weather out the cold and rough seas.

While the large, whitewashed cottage in front of you could well have been a selkie’s home, something about this one felt different. Not wrong, not ominous, but definitely not like the few selkie colonies you’d passed in the last couple of days. It was on its own, for one, and it was large and rectangular where the selkies seemed to prefer squat, cylindrical structures with little bee-hive roofs made of split and sheared stone slabs. This one also had no strings of kelp flags or fluttering bunting, no clicking shells strung up from the eaves like bunches of garlic to sway and twist in the wind, nor pretty, glinting stones and bits of sea-glass with which the seal-folk seemed to love to adorn their houses, stuck into the mortar like gems in a mountain vain. It was just a simple, hunkered-down dwelling with blue, wooden shutters latched tight, sitting nestled up against a larger protrusion in the granite clifftop, and looking like it had grown right out of the earth like a mushroom after a rain storm.

Keep reading

Male orc x male selkie x reader - Part Two (nsfw)

Well, thanks for your enthusiasm for Part One, folks! And your tags on those reblogs made my whole month of April I think. I’m really pleased you were excited for more, so here it is!

Contents: light angst and misunderstandings, brief description of shark-bite-related scar, oral, anal (not to the reader), and a whole lot of fluff.

Wordcount: 5891 (story total: 14,900 or so)

Part One

___

The next week passed in a daze.

Your sister’s ship docked, you saw to all the admin and port documentation, spent six days catching up with her and her crew, until finally she reached for your hand across the table over supper and told you how miserable you looked. “I love you,” she said, brows furrowed with worry, “But seriously, what the fuck happened to you?”

After a roll of your eyes, you found yourself telling her at last. It all just spilled out of you in a garbled rush until you finished uncertainly. “I was only there one night, Lara,”  you sighed. “I’m crazy.”

To her credit, she had listened to all of it without interruption, and when you were done, she sat back in her seat. The hubbub of the restaurant filled your ears, alcohol buzzing slightly, but all you could really see was Thulin’s soft smile and Minnow’s dark, distrustful eyes. Something else had kindled in them though, back when he’d held you by the shoulders and glared at you, daring you to take that one last step across the little drawbridge in his mind. He’d opened it, but he couldn’t ride out to meet you, even with Thulin shoving him from behind.

“Why are you still here?” she asked at last.

“What? You know why. I’m here because you need me.” And they don’t.

“No I don’t,” she said. “And I say that with the greatest affection. You’ve sorted literally everything out for me already, including the harbour pilot for the next time we need to leave, I should add. Seriously, go back to them. They obviously both want you but the reefguard just didn’t know how to say it.”

“You think?”

“Honey, I know,” she laughed.

“You sure you don’t just want to get rid of me so you can fall back into the arms of some siren? Or maybe that enormous minotaur you keep around as your First Mate?”

She snorted. “Erik is about as gay as the day is long, sweetie. You really have no idea, do you?”

You shrugged, face heating, gut sinking. “Guess not.”

She rolled her eyes again. “I love you, but you need to listen to me when I tell you to fuck off back to them. You don’t connect with people just like that, sweetheart,” she said. “There’s got to be something special about this orc and his selkie. Don’t let it slip away.”

With a frown you searched her face for insincerity, but when you found only love and a hint of fond impatience, you downed the rest of your drink and stood. “I’ll go saddle the mare then.”

“Good. And give her a fucking name, will you?”

“Maybe I’ll name her after you,” you growled back. “She’s about as pushy as you are.”

“Then I’ll bet she’s always right too!” Lara called at your back as you left. You didn’t need to answer that one.

After riding through the night, the little whitewashed, stone cottage melted out of the violet dawn and your heart thudded in your throat.

Keep reading