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ceilidho · 4 months

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take me home, country road

[ao3]

prompt: 1800s price/reader…. reader flees to his town where Price is the sheriff after a murder in her previous town only to be mistaken for the mail order bride that Price just sent for ….and he’s not interested in hearing any of her excuses when she tells him that he’s got the wrong girl (part 3) part 1, part 2

“Neglecting your husband already?” he asks when you pull away from the arm curling around your waist. It’d migrated there from your back during the walk away from the courthouse.

“You know I’m not—I’m not some horse that you can just…break in,” you seethe, glaring up at Price. Your arms are crossed tight over your chest, putting the slightest boundary between you and him. It’s more of a mental boundary than anything, a self-soothing gesture; you know it hardly even registers to him because the man still looks down at you with that unimpressed expression, like dealing with a particularly vexing child.

“I hadn’t noticed,” he says dryly, looking you up and down. It’s a scorching, hungry look and it makes you shift from foot to foot.

The two of you stand outside the front door of his house, the front door still shut tight. You put up a fuss on the walk from town as the reality of your situation finally sunk in, squirming in his hold until he threatened to just load you over his shoulder and carry you off. His tone leaves little for you to doubt. Nothing about him brooks skepticism; until the end of time, you’ll look at John Price and think, this is a man of action. This is a man that will move heaven and earth.

You clam up after that, lips pursed shut though turned down at the corners.

It’s a bigger house than you might’ve expected for a single man, but perhaps it was built with a wife and children in mind. The thought makes you swallow. A wooden two-story thing with a porch out front and an adjacent stable for his two horses with a pen around back. Speckled Appaloosas that look up at the sound of his boots and keys, attentive for all of a few seconds before losing interest.

You know without asking that Price must have built this house with his own two hands. It’s not shoddy by any means, but his house has that indefinable quality that some places have. Organic. Homegrown, almost. It’s hard to put up against the houses of your youth, but then again, you grew up in the cramped quarters of the city, apartments thick with the scent of sewage on bad days and dust on the good. The two are hardly comparable. It’s even harder to put up against the estates that you’ve spent the better part of the last few years cleaning and learning inside out, but at least his house doesn’t make your stomach turn at the sight.

There’s a moment when you first turn to him where you wonder if he’ll look for approval in your face, some sign to set him at ease, but when you meet his gaze, it’s steady and impenetrable. Quietly self-assured. It’s incongruent with the machismo you were raised around, the constant need to impress or transcend. It puts you on edge. It makes you almost feel like baring your teeth.

Your comment had come from seeing the horses and the house and the porch with the two rocking chairs, your hackles raising every step closer. Price built his house big enough for children because he anticipated a baby in his future. Children he’d have with his wife, which, though a fuzzy memory as far as memories go, you quietly stepped into the role of not half an hour ago.

You’ve thought about it before. Motherhood; marriage, domestic living, settling down with a man to start a family. The reality of your life has always made it seem like a problem for the future. Years chipping away like flakes of faded paint off the walls of your bedroom, still living with your aunt and uncle well into adulthood, trying desperately to scrimp and save and stay afloat. Disappointing but not surprising that you’d never been considered the marriable sort, not with scrubbing other people's toilets for a living.

And now look at you, ring on your finger and whisked home to be bedded. A shiver roles down your spine at the thought and you scowl at Price instead of sinking into the strange thrill.

When he wraps a hand around your wrist to pull you towards him (his fingers easily overlapping; another thrill), you snap.

“That is quite enough with all the touching!”

His eyes narrow. “I’ll have more than my hands on you by the end of the night.”

A more proper woman would gasp. You barely hold yours back.

You know in the back of your mind that you’ve already lost any semblance of an upper hand in this situation. It has long spiraled out of your control. His ring sits on your finger all nice and pretty, and though you signed your marriage license under a different name—your own rather than the name of his actual intended—that Price hadn’t even bothered confirming, you are, for all intents and purposes, his to touch as he pleases.

“I’m—” your eyes dart around, the urge to bolt a sharp and sudden compulsion lodged in your chest, “—I know I said yes, but I—there’s always the possibility of an a-annulment if we don’t…if…”

You flinch, startled, when he pulls you into his chest only to cup your face again. He has big hands with callused fingers, rough against your skin. Up close, you can see the way his beard is cropped closer than his mustache and mutton chops. It gives him a grim air, almost somber until you catch his eyes staring down at you with an affection that feels unearned, meant for someone else.

“Deep breaths, darling, there’s nothing to fret about just yet. You’ll work yourself into a state like this,” he murmurs, dropping his head to sip a kiss from your lips again.

You’ve been in a state since the moment you walked into the sheriff’s office and laid eyes on this man. Turned around and knocked sideways, like you’ve walked into a storybook without noticing. If only it hadn’t all been so sudden, you might’ve been able to approach the situation with a clearer head. You might’ve been able to think up some other way out of it beyond giving Price a fake name and waiting anxiously for your true identity to be painstakingly drawn out over the course of a week.

“Don’t know why you keep working yourself up,” Price says softly, then slots your lips together for another tender kiss. “Figured you might be a little skittish, but…’m gonna be such a good husband for you, honey. Not gonna want for nothing.”

His slow kisses drag out longer than back in the courthouse, languorous and decadent. As if he has all the time in the world now. In a way, he does, now that he’s helped collect your belongings from the inn and brought you home. When you think of pulling away, the hand wrapped around your wrist lets go and slides to your back, pulling you flush against his chest. Your breasts flatten against his chest, pulse skittering like mad when you feel the hardest of his chest against yours and the muscle holding you in place.

You can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips when the hand on your cheek slides to the nape of your neck and grips, holding you in place. The kiss deepens, the heat on your cheeks feeling palpably hot, vision swimming until your eyes have no choice but to flutter shut. Your suitcase sits forgotten somewhere in the dirt, toppled over onto its side. You pant low, hot breaths into his mouth when he breaks the kiss, letting his lips just hover over yours.

“There we go, darlin’,” Price mumbles against your mouth, sliding the hand on your low back down to grip the plump flesh of your ass through your dress, lips twitching when you make a broken, affronted sound. “Isn’ that better? Not thinkin’ so hard?”

You can’t think at all, in truth. When he kisses you again, your thoughts evaporate up into the clouds, the tongue licking into your mouth dispelling any ideas or notions you might’ve had. It disappears into the heat and lust and the fingers digging into your backside, groping at the flesh there without shame or compunction. You go with him when he clutches you closer, gasping again into his mouth when you feel something hard press against your low belly. He grunts when you twitch against it.

“John—John—” you gasp, pulling your mouth away and whimpering when he chases after you, letting him steal another wet, slick kiss before your trembling hands clutch at the fabric of his shirt. “Enough—it’s not—it’s not proper—”

“No prying eyes around here,” he grunts. “‘Sides, who’s going to tell a man he can’t kiss his own wife?”

Trembling all the harder at his words, you dig your nails into his shirt sleeves and hope you pinch the skin underneath. All twisted up inside. The ring on your finger glimmers when it catches the light, brighter even than the sun this close to your face. When Price feels your nails dig into his arms, he groans, fingers pressing harder into your bottom and making you squeak. All the pent up lust finally trickling out of him and into you.

“C’mon, honey, let’s get you inside.” He finally lets you go after giving your bottom lip one last wet suck, pulling it into his mouth while his half-lidded eyes stare into yours. It’s somehow more intimate than kissing.

You’re still reeling when he turns around to pick your suitcase off the ground, certain that your knees will give way and send you tumbling as well. Every point of contact on your body sizzles, aches. You watch from outside of yourself as he turns back to you, suitcase in his hand now, eyes still dark and fixed on you. Hungry. Your eyes widen when they flit down to find a thick bulge at the crotch of his pants.

Like a cold bucket of water has been dumped over your head, you hiss and back up three steps when he takes a step towards you. “Oh no, you don’t take one step closer! I won’t have anything to do with—with that!”

You must look like some feral barn cat, back all puffed up, teeth bared to the man trying to coax you towards him. Price must see it too because he grins, amused. “Still spittin’ mad, huh? Felt those claws in me before, darlin’…gonna love feeling them with nothing between us.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Price doesn’t bother clearing anything up, but you intuit it the second he takes another step in your direction, whirling around and sprinting towards the house. It feels counterproductive to seek shelter in the man’s house, but dusty plains stretch out in every direction apart from back into town, where you know not a soul will lift a finger to help you. His house is the only shelter you’re going to get.

You hurry up the porch stairs, tearing open the door before glancing over your shoulder to find Price not far behind. He advances on you at a walking pace, but each stride of his long legs matches two of yours, making you shriek and scurry up the staircase. You dart for the first open door you see, slamming it shut behind you and leaning your whole weight against it. Glancing down, you perk up at the sight of a lock on the door before flipping it.

It’s not long before the sound of boots clomping up the staircase meets your ears, headed straight in your direction. You shake when you hear him pause right outside the door, then startle when he tries the knob.

“You gonna let me in, darling?” Price asks, grin in his voice. Even raps his knuckle against the door for good measure.

“No,” you snap.

“Not even for your things? Got your suitcase right here.” You hear him set it down, a little clunk against the wood floor.

“I can manage like this. I’ve slept in my dress before.”

He pauses. “Have you?”

You tilt your chin up proudly despite the door blocking his view. “Yes, and I don’t mind doing it again. You can just stay on the other side of that door until you…until you put that thing away.”

“Can’t do much about that thing, darling; it’s sort of grown on me over the years anyway,” Price chuckles. “Well, not much I can do with it behind this door. I’ll go tend the horses ‘till suppertime comes ‘round and then come back to tend to you.”

“Licentious…reprobate,” you hiss through the door.

He laughs, the sound deep in his throat. Your stomach flips.

The stairs creak under the weight of his boots as he descends back downstairs. You wait until you hear the front door open and shut behind him, until the house is completely quiet save for the blood pumping in your ears before you hastily unlock the door and dart a hand out just to pull your suitcase in. You shut and lock the door as soon as it passes the threshold.

It takes a while to settle your nerves and for the trembling to subside. In the meantime, you sit on your bottom at the foot of the door, with your back still pressed firmly to the wood, and take stock. There’s a bed in the room, one you hadn’t noticed in your mad scramble to lock yourself in. A bigger bed than the one you’d slept on back at the inn, but just as sparse, with gray flannel sheets and a blue quilt folded and draped over the end of the bed.

The rest of the furniture in the room—two end tables, a chest of drawers, a desk, and two chairs situated in the corner of the room—appears so consistent in its design that you have to wonder if Price made them by hand as well. Hardly a reason to question it. You think to yourself that you’ll have to ask him how he finds the time only to quickly shake that thought away. Can’t be getting too chummy, certainly not if you don’t expect to be around in a month’s time. Hopefully less than that.

You chew on your lip at the thought of fleeing in the night.

It trickles into your thoughts while you open your suitcase on the bed and riffle around for your nightwear. Price will likely keep you under lock and key for at least the first week of your marriage, giving you little opportunity to take off any time soon. If only you’d held your tongue and played the demure bride, he might’ve had some cause to trust you. Certainly not now, after your most recent display.

Your own stupid fault, as usual. It’s not the first time your temper has gotten the better of you. You’ve faced worse consequences for it.

Outside the window on the far end of the room, a horse whinnies. You pause, remembering that Price hadn’t gone very far. When you glance out curiously, you see him letting the horses into the pen, giving one a good rub down the bridge of its nose. The horses seem to melt under his touch.

It’s strange watching him from far away. From a distance, it’s hard to reconcile him with the man that bent you over his desk not an hour ago and tanned your bottom. You cringe at the memory. It’s not that Price doesn’t seem like a man that would take his wife over his knee if he saw fit to do so, but you still can’t imagine yourself as that woman. When you think about it, it feels like a play, something you saw happen to someone else. Not you wailing and squirming like a cat in heat.

As if feeling your stare, he glances up at the window and winks when he catches your eye. With a squeak, you leap away from the window, scurrying back over to the bed.

A couple hours pass in restless contemplation, practically biting your nails to the quick. Eyeing the windowsill like you still might go over there just to check on what Price is up to outside. You hear him come back into the house once or twice, tensing up at the sound of his boots, only to be left vaguely disappointed when you hear him leave and the screen door slam shut behind him.

You spend so long holed up in the bedroom that you miss lunch entirely. Below you, you hear Price puttering around downstairs in the kitchen—the sound of a knife chopping vegetables and then the sizzle of meat on a pan. The hunger pangs nearly make you break, but you’ve gone without food before.

Your heart skips a beat when you hear him ascend the staircase again and place something just outside of your door. He doesn’t try coaxing you out this time, just heads back down the stairs and out the front door. Again, you ignore the pang of disappointment; ignore the urge to open the door and holler down the stairs for him to stay gone.

He leaves anyway.

Curiosity needles at you though, so you open the door up a crack when you’re sure you’re alone. There’s a plate at the foot of the door with vegetables and meat, slightly cooled but still fresh, the plate still warm. He must’ve known you wouldn’t try coming downstairs and fixed you up a plate.

You eat in silence at the desk, bad mood ripening. Angry at yourself and everyone else. Even John. Especially John. The audacity of fixing you up a plate, of thinking of you in the first place. Irritated enough to stand boldly by the window this time, hand clutched in the curtain, tracking the movement of his shoulders and hips when he moves with the horses and fetches water from the well. You lose sight of him a couple times as he finishes up the day’s chores around the house, but the flutter in your belly always settles when he comes back into view.

It’s easy to let yourself admire him from afar, somehow less humiliating without his eyes on you. He’s a solid man, body carved into its shape from the rough labor that’s part and parcel of living out on the frontier. A wide back tapering down to lean, narrow hips and thick, muscled thighs hewn from lifting and pulling and all manner of physical work. You bite your lip when you remember what it felt like to cling to that back and dig your nails into his arms.

You give your head a shake. It’s dangerous to let a thought like that latch on.

In the few hours between lunch and sunset, you occupy yourself by reading one of the books stowed away in your suitcase. Then get bored and refold your clothes. The horses bray when they’re taken into the stables for the evening. The crickets out in the bushes in the yard chirp as the sun sets pink in the far distance. It’s quieter out here in the plains than back in the city, you think, something you haven’t yet had the time to appreciate.

When Price comes in for the night, you’re firm in your resolve to keep the door shut. If lunch at the door was just an attempt to butter you up, he has another thing coming. In a house this big, there’s likely a guest room or somewhere else to sleep—a sofa or a sleeping bag tucked away under the stairs. He’ll just have to make do while you take the bedroom. There’ll be no sharing a bed with the man that grabbed your backside like a piece of meat.

He doesn’t come up the stairs right away. Like before, you hear him rustle up supper, spatula scraping against a pan and knife coming down on a chopping block again and again. Not enough time has passed since lunch for you to feel more than peckish. You’re thankful for that when you hear him sit down to eat.

The knock at the door startles you. You hadn’t heard him come up the stairs. “Ready to talk now?”

You stare balefully at the door. “No.”

“We have to figure this out sometime, darling.”

“No, we don’t.”

“I’m sorry if I gave you a fright earlier, but, honey, that’s how husbands kiss their wives. Nothing improper about it.”

“I’m not frightened, I’m just not—we don’t need to do any of that,” you huff, embarrassed all over again. “You’ve hardly given me any time to even think. I didn’t know you from Adam this morning and now we’re married.”

Price sighs, the sound muffled through the door. “What am I going to do with you, honey?” It’s said to himself, a fond exasperation that puts you on edge all over again. He has no right to be amused with you, no right to be delighted and charmed by your ire.

“Well, you can sleep somewhere else for the time being. I’d prefer the bed to myself.”

He lets out a low, dark laugh. “There’s not a chance in hell that I’m sleeping anywhere but with my wife from this point on. You oughta come to terms with that quick.”

“Well then, you can sleep out there because I’m not unlocking the door!”

He lets out a mean sound, almost mocking. “Yeah, ‘bout time I addressed that, huh?”

His words make you frown until you hear a floorboard creak as Price does something on the other side of the door. Then the doorknob jiggles. Horrified, you watch as the door unlocks and the knob turns, your husband’s body filling out the door frame. You’d forgotten how well he could fill one out. He almost has to duck to come inside, mused hair from working outside all day brushing against the top of the frame.

“Always put a key on the top of the door, just in case,” he explains, pinching the little silver key between his thumb and forefinger before shutting the door. Your heart jumps when he locks it behind him. “Ready to talk now, honey?”

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #captain price #captain john price #john price #cod price #price x you #price x reader #price/reader #john price x reader #mail order bride au

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kneelingshadowsalome · 4 months

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The other day I was reading about the “mail-order brides” during the Gold Fever/Gold Rush in USA. Men ordered/purchased a wife via mail, and one of the many reasons some of them did that was because of loneliness, and I couldn’t help but think “yep, that would be König”. Just imagine him living alone in his farm or ranch, he only goes to town once a month to buy essential supplies, hides his face, and barely socializes with folks. But deep inside he is just a lonely man who desires a family, and a woman to call his (and one who can help him with his… needs) But he is socially inept, so he takes the easy route and orders himself a wife, that way he doesn’t have to bother with interacting with other people and gets himself a pretty wife

Oh my god 💞

König wanting to wed and bed her the minute she arrives by train... She thought he would court her for a while before they marry, she thought they would do this decently, that they would get to know each other first, she’d rent an apartment from the small town and then decide if she wanted to live with him…

But he says everything’s settled, he already took care of everything, they’re getting married today and spend their wedding night in the saloon before leaving for his settlement tomorrow.

She’s too bewildered to even speak, so it's no wonder she gets herded to the altar right away, a pretty, meek little bride is just what König ordered! Gets wed to this giant hulking gold digger while still wearing her traveling clothes, the priest only looks drunk and bored as she peeps her vows. The man she's now wed to looks down at her with unbridled affection and curiosity, but soon enough, she catches him eyeing her waistline, her bust, the corset she wears feeling tighter still by his indecent stare.

He's far from a gentleman, and dresses like a weather-worn cowboy, and she suspected as much from the way he wrote and how unpolished his handwriting was. But at least he seems kind. If anything, he's smitten that she’s not some old hag who deceived him by claiming to be an unmarried young lady, that she is everything and more he wished for based on the few letters they exchanged.

The wedding is over in a few minutes, and there’s no coffee and cake, no party under some big tree, no relatives or friends to congratulate her on her wedding day. There’s only this huge, intimidating man who looks at her like she just dropped down from heavens, his eyes slowly sparking aflame with both softness and lust.

He takes her to the saloon to eat, and then she finds herself in a greasy little room upstairs, changing into her white nightgown, getting ready to sleep and only sleep, but her nightmare of a day is not over yet. Her hand flies over her mouth, she nearly screams as she turns around and finds this horrible man of lowly European descent thoroughly naked behind her.

She’s in so much trouble, that much was certain from the minute he saw this man, but seeing his… equipment in the dim candle light of the old saloon is too much after everything she's gone through. She's verily about to faint.

It’s just her luck to dream of adventures and a happy, exciting new life and then find herself thrown into the arms of some barbaric, foreign giant... He said he’s looking for a companion in life and hinted at being a little lonely, but men who wish to court a lady don’t do it like this: by dragging them to the altar and then presenting their cocks to them before even two hours have passed!

The rowdy noise of cancan downstairs is a filthy backdrop to seeing a naked man for the first time in her life, and she never knew male parts could be so... big. Or jumpy. Or leaky... This man is clearly serious about this commitment, and thinks there’s no need to get to know each other, she’s his wife now and they need to consummate the marriage right away.

He’s breathing heavily while grabbing that weeping weapon in his fist, telling her she’s more beautiful than he ever even imagined. He pleasures himself slowly while watching her try to cover herself in her thin, faintly translucent gown, and she still can't find any words – the man is behaving like a scoundrel or a highwayman, not at all like the sharp dressed, eloquent gentlemen she's grown used to in the city. The slick sounds of lewd fapping are accompanied by moans of how she’s the answer to all his prayers, and her hair stands on end, she feels like she’s walking on tar here in the distant frontier with nothing but greedy men and drunken brothel keepers around her, now face to face with a giant, throbbing cock out of all things...

She coldly orders him to sleep on the floor while she takes the bed – she’s not letting this nasty, hairy beast near her anytime soon, not when she still has her wits about her. Defeated when she won’t let him “consummate their love” tonight, the man withdraws to sleep on the floor with a sullen groan and a long sigh.

She never sleeps a wink that night in fear of finding him by her side, groping his way through her dress, but to her surprise this man only snores on the floor as if he's used to sleeping there.

Civilization is far away when he leads her to his shack the next day and shows her the first small specks of gold he has found, apologizing for the state of his abode so unkempt and unclean. She has to give it to him that he's indeed kind and doesn’t want to make her suffer unduly, because the table and the bench are wiped in a hurry before she sits down, as if she’s a queen visiting a humble subject. He makes her a bath next to the fire and washes in the water after her, giving her flirty, promising smiles throughout the whole splashy ordeal.

Before long, the giant cock is presented to her again as the man excitedly waits for permission to take her, telling her he has never seen anything like her, that she makes his heart run wild.

The only thing running wild in her sour opinion is his cock, bouncing up and down from the need to be inside her, nearly leaking seed on the floor she suspects she has to wash and scrub tomorrow anyhow as his wife. Evening after evening, she rejects his advances, but after a week or two, her will breaks.

She tells herself it’s only out of pity that she lets him finally crawl over her and lift her gown, that it’s only to stop the man from spiraling into madness that she allows him to test how nicely that thick, leaky cock glides through her folds.

“You’re wet, Sonnenschein,” he pants with happy excitement when she notices her swollen, sloppy state, then plunges his cock deep into his wet little prize with a filthy moan. He tells her she’s tight and hot, and takes her like she’s some kind of an angelic whore, falls panting all over her breasts when he’s sated and done, says that she’s his salvation and that he’ll do anything to make her feel at home here.

She feels exactly like a desperate mail order bride, lured here with the promise of a good life and gold, but when she starts to wait for him to come home instead of dreading the end of the day, that's when her hell truly begins.

It just won't do to start wanting him, to trick her heart to be content with whatever this is. To enjoy his "love" would be even more shameful than anything else so far. The truth of the matter is that she's tormented by a lustful, wild man who takes her on her knees or on her stomach like an animal while moaning about how tight she is, how soft she is, how he can’t concentrate at work because of her.

But when he groans that he loves her just before he cums, she feels a distant sting near her heart, a burst of a small bonfire somewhere in her gut from his words. Far from romantic, but so authentic and pure they’re ripped out of him with a pathetic, cry-like moan.

And just when her heart is about to turn and grow full with softness, he barges in and takes her standing, needy after work, deciding that she looks far too alluring while stirring the stew over the fire. His sunshine of a wife waiting for him with warm food and a soft little cunt, it's exactly like it was always meant to be in his dreams... He’s kind and attentive, but doesn’t know a thing about ladies and that they’re not supposed to be taken by the fire like this, but the dramatic pout on her lips turns into a helpless grimace before this animal has given her three full thrusts.

And it’s only by accident, she tells herself, that it happens. It’s only a coincidence that she finds herself short of breath and shivering, then crying with pleasure from the way his cock sails inside her, hasty and needy as if she’s nothing but a momentary relief for this man.

But she knows she’s far from that. He always stays after the hurried lovemaking – if you could call it that – swallows and tells her things that are supposed to be sweet, perhaps. He whispers loving nonsense in her ear with a stupid, quivering voice, tells her that she’s so tight he’s about to lose his mind. That she brightens up his life and makes this shack a home, a palace, even. That he wants to give her children and grow old together.

She prays the heavens to save her from such a future, but when she accidentally comes with his cock inside her, the man breaks down entirely. Repeats the awful, pathetic “I love you” until he comes, too, and sounds like a man who's getting his sould ripped apart from his bones. It’s sinful lunacy what he’s doing to her in that shack, and dares to sprinkle it with love out of all things, and she doesn’t know if she hates him, or if she loves him too.

Annulling this marriage is nearly impossible, and the sooner he gets her pregnant, the sooner she’s even more trapped, just like the poor rabbits this man lures into the snares placed around the shack. He spends every little speck of gold to buy her silks, satins and gowns, proper woolen scarves and soft little leather shoes, gives her a gentle kiss every morning before he leaves to wash gold. Every evening after meal, he praises her cooking skills and then takes her on the creaking old bed like she's a common whore. The silly, girlish dreams of being whisked away by a mysterious, romantic gentleman are somewhere far away when this giant spills his seed inside her with a thick, arduous groan, then proceeds to cover her in kisses too sweaty and hot.

“I know you don’t love me,” he whispers between the one-sided sucking and nibbling that’s about to make her cry. “But I will make you happy... I swear it, on my life.”

She can only stare at the ceiling, filled with the dancing flames of the fire as he falls asleep with his cock still inside her, the soft snore on her breasts both happy and sad.

#könig x you #könig smut #könig x reader #mail order bride #gold rush au #könig angst

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freddiegene · 2 months

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I'm so excited to reveal Torn Asunder's cover! I'm absolutely in love with this cover; it's exactly what was in my head.

Silas and Butch's story is coming to you soon!

#wild west #cover reveal #cowboys #omegaverse #mpreg #mail-ordered brides #historical fiction #writers #readers #authors #indie author #self publishing

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dargeereads · 8 days

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The Cowboy’s Mail-Order Bride by Megan Crane

3 1/2 stars

Harlen and Kendall seem to be an unlikely pairing! And really, they know nothing about the other, yet, they end up married. His reasoning is straightforward, she has some secrets to keep. Regardless, the more they spend time together, the more the attraction between them grows. Love how they instinctively know what the other hides from the world, even if they don’t have the reasoning for it. These two definitely deserve the happiness they get, and Zeke and Belinda are simply wonderful <3

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mariana-oconnor · 1 year

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Best used for short fics, poems and fics where the style/format is more important than the plot. Or fics that tie directly into a scene/episode from canon or another fanfic.

Option 3 - The Hook:

Draw the reader's interest by giving them a set up with no conclusion. Introduce the main character(s), introduce the status quo, describe an inciting incident, leave a question in the reader's mind.

Example: "Blorbo is a barista at a coffee shop, struggling to pay their bills, but after handsome rockstar Obrolb walks into their coffee shop they find that they have to decide whether a chance at love is worth the cost of fame."

Best used for mid to long fic where there's a strong premise and follow through. Especially good for AUs. Can be expanded for more complex plots or used multiple times in one summary for multiple characters or subplots.

Option 4 - The Sitcom One-Liner:

"The one in which [over simplified description of one of the main plotlines]" This is essentially 'boil your plot down to the very simplest statement you can, oversimplify if possible. The more bizarre or unhelpful the better.

Example: "The one in which Blorbo learns to like cake".

Best used for fics with at least a little humour in them.

Option 5 - The Rule of Three:

Three is a magic number. Find three key moments in your fic and just list them. That's it. Often ends with 'not necessarily in that order' if used for comic effect. If it's an AU, establish that quickly (i.e. 'Star NHL player Blorbo…').

Example: "Blorbo makes a friend, falls in love, and almost burns to death, not necessarily in that order."

Best used for anything, really. Three is a magic number. The human brain loves things that come in threes.

Option 6 - The Trope Lure:

Why bother describing the plot? We all know AO3 readers are here for the tropes. Similar to The Sitcom One-Liner just using tropes instead of plot. Often followed by the phrase 'that nobody asked for'.

Example: "The Space western / A/B/O / Mail Order Bride fic that nobody asked for."

Often tacked on to the end of The Hook or The Excerpt as a tl;dr.

Best used for fic that plays its tropes straight with no shame or second guessing.

Option 7 - The Pre-emptive Strike:

(Not recommended) You just wrote this fic, the self doubt is consuming you. You feel the need to apologise profusely for your existence for no apparently reason. You feel cringe, you think the fic is cringe, you want everyone to know that you think the fic is cringe in case they don't like it and judge you for it.

Example: "So I fell in love with this pairing and had to write this. It's weird and terrible. Lol! I suck at summaries! Sorry!"

Best used for no fics ever. I cannot stress this enough.

(Seriously, I am begging you, don't do this. If you're planning to use this option, rethink it and do one of the others. I guarantee you more people will want to read your fic.)

Sometimes added on to any other summary as a strange disclaimer. (srsly. don't.)

Option 8 - The Unapology:

Embrace the mayhem, embrace the deep dark depths of your soul. The opposite of The Pre-emptive Strike. A combination of The No Frills and The Trope Lure that truly gives no fucks.

You have committed crimes and you are proud of them. You know what your USP is and you're going to make sure your target market finds you. Look upon my works, ye readers, and despair!

Example: "There aren't enough tentacle fics in this pairing, so I had to write one myself!"

Best used for fics with controversial/polarising tropes with all relevant details already clearly stated in the tags.

Option 9 - The Interrogation:

What if you wrote a summary entirely in questions? What if your readers had to read the fic to discover the answers? Who knows what will happen if you do this?

Example: "What happens when Blorbo McBlorbo gets his wish and Daisy doesn't make it to the plane on time? What happens when Obrolb finds out? How will this change Daisy and Blorbo's friendship?"

Best used for... I honestly don't know. This style of summary does not vibe with me. Mystery fic maybe? Sorry guys.

Option 10 - The Multipack:

Got a bunch of shorter fics in one work? No way of summarising them all without a wall of text larger than the Great Wall of China? This one is similar to The No Frills in that you're not describing the plots themselves and similar to The Trope Lure in that often broader genres and tropes are mentioned. What links those fics? Are they all in the same fandom? The same pairing? The same challenge? Just slap that right in the summary. A chapter list with 1-2 word trope/pairing summaries can be included or not.

Example: "A collection of Blorbo/Daisy/Obrolb fics based on Tumblr prompts. Chapter 1: Regency AU Chapter 2: Werewolves vs vampires Chapter 3: Ghost!Daisy Chapter 4: Space pirates!"

Best used for (obviously) works that are compilations of fic.

Option ? - The Void:

I said The Excerpt was the quickest and easiest summary to do. I lied, well... I didn't exactly lie. What is quicker and easier than not having a summary at all? After all, that's what the tags are for.

Example:

Best used for... nothing? Write a summary, guys. Please?

#AO3 #fandom #on writing #clearing out my drafts #long post #Qd #This list is intended for entertainment purposes only #I just came across a lot of fic summaries that followed similar rules #so I decided to post this about it #I'm sure other options are available #If you've ever used number 7 that's not bad of you #But my advice would be to not do that

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ladywuvly · 3 months

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barry sloane +au. +characters rec list!

masterlist. socials. recs.

head canons & imagines |

dbf!price boys your age by @captainfern

dbf!price shotgunning his cigar by @inkbybambi

dbf!price sugardaddy; part.2 by @faith369

bf!price headcanons by @empresskylo

landlord!price moving out by @gatorlovebot

husband!price darling wife by @ghosts-cyphera

honesty by @gatorlovebot - John doesn't like liars.

fixing your bad self-image by @sweetiecutie - You’ve been feeling a bit self-conscious lately, so John decides to fuck some sense into your head.

tummy love by @stoutpancakes

truth or dare? by @soapyghost

don't disobey by @jawabear - A risky move on the field leaves the captain less than happy with you.

steady girl by @jawabear - John loves when you help him trim his facial hair. And he loves what comes after as well.

genesis by @moondirti - It’s the first time you truly see him – this much of him, anyway, and he’s startlingly younger than you would’ve thought. The progression of a spite-fuelled relationship.

eye contact by @kungfubarbie101

two is hardly a crowd by @grippingbeskar

how to disappear by @fawnpires - After a failed attempt at a date, you unexpectedly find yourself in the hands of comfort of your dorm-mate, also known as your captain.

bartender by @sky-is-the-limit

rings by @glossysoap

what’ve you done this time by @captainfern inspo; @bleuu-moon

just the tip, love by @floralpascal

home is the feeling of you by @maryangelex - You’re Price’s fiancé back home and it’s been months since you’ve seen him. He’s been on deployment and days have been getting lonelier the more days pass. Until you get home one night from work to a more than pleasant surprise.

taking his time by @empresskylo

neighborly advice by @sky-is-the-limit - Your neighbor price takes matters into his own hands to finish what your incompetent ex could never. all in the name of good neighborly solidarity, of course.

cigar smoke and good sex by @lxvvie

helping hands by @deathsimage

break the rules by @bonitanightmxres - Months after breaking up, you and price agree to a “no strings attached” relationship to fill the void in your lives—but it proves to be harder than anticipated when you both start to catch feelings again.

how you deserve by @manmuncher777 Inspo; @sky-is-the-limit

fics |

never let me go 5/5 by @maryangelex - You worked at a coffeehouse, your life is filled with mundanity and you wouldn't change it for anything else. That is, until one crisp autumn morning, you meet the handsome Captain John Price and there’s an immediate, undoubted connection between the two of you.

neighborly 5/5 by @391780 inspo; @hereforthepedrofanfic - You and your neighbor, john price, slowly getting to know each other over the holidays.

the rear window 5/5 by @391780 - spinoff! neighborly!pricepov stalker!price.

soft 9/9 by @391780 - Soap says dumb shit in a bar, Captain Price falls in love with a fat girl.

Songs That Sound Like Sea-Foam 2/2 by @halcyone-of-the-sea - fisherman!price x mermaid!reader.

take me home, country road 5/5 by @ceilidho - 1800s!price. reader flees to his town where Price is the sheriff after a murder in her previous town. only to be mistaken for the mail order bride that Price just sent for ….and he’s not interested in hearing any of her excuses when she tells him that he’s got the wrong girl

callsign: zero 12/12 by @cass-the-mess - 2 years ago you saved John Price from an untimely death, only to disapear without a trace before he could thank you properly for getting him back home safe. You show up again 2 years later to help the task force defeat a new enemy. Tensions rise as you show your true colors and navigate through unresolved issues that puts you and your new team at risk. Are you willing to finally open up or do you keep pushing everyone away to keep yourself "safe".

marigold 7/7 by @captainfern - dadsbestfriend!price (pretty much anything and all things from this masterlist.)

disclamer! none of these are my works all credit to the authors. I just loved them so much figured I'd give them a shoutout!

#ladywuvly. recs.#captain john price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x female reader #captain price x y/n #captain price x you #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #captain john price x female reader #captain price smut #captain price mw2 #captain john price smut #navi.#nsfwcontent #18+ mdni

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wriothesleybear · 5 months

Text

Best friend's Bachelorette Party

~a/n: Inspired by on the most beautiful fanart I've seen on twitter by minoru_uwuarts. Here’s a Christmas present for my fellow Wrio lovers. Probably my last fic to end the year. Merry Christmas and happy holidays everyone! Enjoy!🥰❤️

~warnings: some plot, smut, male stripping, mentions of blowjob, cunnilingus, jerking off, fingering, squirting, consent, gentle face fucking, ends in some fluff, fem!reader, MDNI!

~summary: Being the maid of honor, you throw your best friend a bachelorette party and order a male stripper. He tells you to meet him in the guest bedroom after the party. You took him up on his offer and it was not disappointing...

~word count: 5.9k

Being the maid of honor was a very busy job. The jobs included helping prepare for the wedding, getting invitation cards ready and sent out in the mail, helping the bride choose her dream wedding dress, and many other jobs. One of them included the bachelorette party. Your best friend said anything you planned was fine for her party because she trusted your tastes. In the past, you remember she mentioned wanting to get a stripper. Being the maid of honor, you wanted to fulfill her one and only bachelorette party of her dreams, so you did as she asked.

You've never ordered a stripper before or even gone to a strip club. It was a bit of an embarrassing new experience but it was for your best friend! While searching online for the best professional strippers who had good reviews and made house calls, you came upon a website called Celestial Temptations. It was a very fancy and elegant website that had a list of many different types of professional male strippers. They showed a picture of each gentleman with a personal description below it. Scrolling through the many types of male strippers was a bit exciting and made it difficult to choose which one to hire because they all looked gorgeous and sexy. You kept in mind what your best friend's taste was in men while deciding. You came across one in particular that caught your eye. His name was ‘The Duke’. He was a buff, handsome man with black and gray hair with part of it looking like animal ear tufts. Scars littered his skin but they added to his beauty. He wore a professional business suit that was open to show his torso and chest, tie loose as he pulled on it in the picture. You rubbed your thighs together, already getting excited just from his picture alone.

His description read: The Duke. "A man of mystery who will do anything to please a woman. "

You were already taken in by the picture of this man but his description just pulled you in more. Clicking on his profile, you get more information about him like his age, height, likes and dislikes, turn-ons and turn-offs, etc. You click on the 'order services' button and put in your information and payment, all the while, your heart is pounding with excitement. You get a confirmation email, telling you that the order went through and The Duke was booked for your best friend's bachelorette party. This was going to be an interesting party..

The night of the bachelorette party finally came and you were excited for your best friend to have the best time of her life tonight. Deep down, you were also a little excited about the 'special entertainment'. While the soon-to-be bride and guests were busy opening gifts, the doorbell rang. You figured it was the long-awaited entertainment. "I'll get it!" You hurry to answer the door, making sure that everyone is preoccupied with the bride. You open the front door to see a tall, handsome man that looks exactly like the man from the picture that you ordered for. A charming smile graces his facial features. A smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

"y/n, right?" You lose your train of thought when you hear his deep voice but soon snap out of it.

"Um yes! That's me. The Duke, correct?" He gives you a flirty smile and replies yes. You blush. "Follow me. I'll show you where you can get ready." Opening the door wider, you let him in and close it behind him as he scans the front room of the house. He then turns to you, smiling, "Lead the way." You lead him to a spare bedroom down the hall. As he followed you, he kept checking you out from behind without you knowing.

You open the door to the guest bedroom, letting him enter first. "Here you go, you can prepare in here and we'll do the show in the living room where everyone currently is." He sets down a bag on the bed and already begins to take off his jacket. You're able to see his back muscles flex through his shirt. His deep voice breaks your daze. "No problem. I'll be ready in five." He says as he turns to you, giving you another one of his charming smiles. You quickly turn around and get ready to leave but then he stops you. "Oh, and make sure you get a front room seat. I do a little something special for those who catch my eye." He teasingly says. Instead of turning around and replying, you simply shut the door. Leaning your back against it, you try to calm your beating heart. You could feel the heat in your cheeks and also between your thighs. You're finally able to calm down and gather yourself, pushing those feelings down. He says that to a lot of women probably. It's not that special, you think to yourself.

You head back to the living room to see that everyone has finished watching the bride-to-be open her presents. You gather everyone's attention. "Alright, ladies! We have a special show for everyone, especially for the main lady of the night." Noises of excitement and curiosity fill the room. You turn the bride's chair around so she's facing towards the hallway where the entertainment should enter from. "I remember you asked for a very special entertainment for your bachelorette party. So, I did my duty as maid of honor to fulfill that wish." Your best friend gets all giddy, getting an idea of what this 'special entertainment' could be. “Would it have something to do with that metal pole you installed today?” She points to the stripping pole connected to the floor and ceiling nearby in the room. You smirk, acting oblivious. “I’m not sure. I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

You grab a blindfold from your pocket and wrap it around the bride's head, covering her eyes. You dim the lights and turn the stereo on to play some sexy music to get everyone in the mood. Everyone begins to chant and cheer for the 'special entertainment' to come out, the bride especially.

Wrio hears the music play and the women calling for him so he takes that as his cue. He opens the door and walks down the hall towards the living room where the audience is waiting. All the women cheer as soon as he enters the room. His charming, seductive smile added to the sexy aura that surrounded him. "This must be the lucky lady." He walks towards your best friend and kneels before her. You remove the blindfold covering her eyes and once her sight focuses, it lands on the handsome man in front of her. She blushes as he takes her hand in his, leaving a kiss on the back of it. "I'm The Duke. I hear you're getting married soon. I better do my best to make your last night as an unmarried woman the most memorable one ever." Squeals and cheers fill the room once again, letting the man know to start the show. You take a seat nearby, grab a specialty drink, and take a swig of it.

While checking out The Duke, you notice he changed his outfit from earlier. He's now wearing a black suit with a red tie around his neck. His pants fit snuggly to his legs, accentuating his nice ass. Pulling on his suit jacket, he takes it off, tossing it somewhere in the room. Oh god, how can this man make taking off a simple jacket so sexy? Next, he begins to loosen his tie and unbutton his dress shirt. Whistles fill the room when he completely removes his shirt, showing his buff body and muscles. Your eyes scan his bare upper body, admiring his chiseled abs, ripped arms, and the scars that litter his skin. He grabs the blindfold from the floor, wrapping it around his eyes and tying it.

He walks over to the bride, and grabs the bottom of her chair, moving her to be positioned right in front of the stripper pole. “Gotta have front-row seats to the show.” His hips sway to the beat of the music as he grabs onto the metal pole and swings on it. He’s able to effortlessly climb the pole to the top of it, with his back to you as you can admire his ass and back muscles that flex when he grabs the pole. Wrapping his legs securely around it, he leans back until he’s facing the audience upside down. His hands grip the pole between his legs, holding him as he slowly slides down the pole. Screams and cheers fill the room once again. A flirty smirk covers his face from hearing the ladies cheer for him. Calling out to the bride seated in front of him, he tells her to take his blindfold off. Wasting no time, she unties the blindfold, letting it drop to the floor. The sight of his blue eyes gazing intently at her while doing his signature smile would make any woman’s legs turn into jelly. He slowly slides himself down the pole, face right in front of her legs. He uses one hand to grab her leg, positioning it to the side of his head as his hand moves up her leg to her thigh, making the bride blush. He removes his hand before going any further, leaving her wanting more.

He turns his head to where you’re sitting, eyes landing on you. Winking at you, he beckons you over with a finger. You’re hesitant, not wanting to take the attention away from the bride-to-be, but she walks over to you, grabs you by the hand and pulls you over to her seat in front of him. Plopping you down, you make eye contact with The Duke, his gaze sending tingles down your body. He uses both of his hands to slide up your legs, slowly easing up to your thighs. Similar to what he did to the bride but with you, he doesn’t stop himself at a certain point. Hands move further up to the inside of your thighs, almost touching your core. Blushing and slightly embarrassed from knowing people are watching, you try to close your legs but he prevents you from doing it. He chuckles at your actions. Removing his hand, he grabs your hand, pulling it to his abs to feel it. The feel of his soft, chiseled abs does something to you. You get entranced by the feel of them, slowly rubbing your fingers up and down his stomach. He brings your hand to his mouth, leaving a sweet, short kiss on the palm. Suddenly, he pulls you by the hand so your face is near his, eyes widened with surprise. He whispers in your ear, Meet me in the guest bedroom after the show. Your thighs clench together as heat goes down to your core from his mysterious words. He releases his grip on your arm, allowing you to pull away. You’re in a daze from your small interaction with him, but a cheer of “mores” from the guests breaks you out of your trance. You gain your composure and get up from the seat, allowing the bride to sit back down to have her turn again. Walking back to your seat, you’re left wondering what he meant with his words. What would happen if you did meet him in the guest bedroom after the party? The curiosity eats at you, leaving you wanting more. He knows the effect he has on you. That was his plan after all.

Once the entertainment was done, the party was officially over and the guests began to leave. You close the door once the last guest leaves. Joining your best friend on the couch, you're exhausted. Your best friend tells you how much she enjoyed the party and thanks you for it while hugging you as her words are slurred. She's wasted. You laugh, laying her down and putting a blanket over her. Once she settles down, she brings something to your attention.

"I think the stripper has the hots for you."

"What?" You pause, surprised by what she said.

"Yeah, I could tell how he looks at you, especially during the special dance he gave you."

"Yeah, okay. I'm sure that's just him acting for his job."

"Nope, I can tell. I'm psychic and I know he has the hots for you. He's probably waiting in the guest bedroom for you right now. You should go in there and see." She says, her words slurring more as she begins to get sleepier. "If you don't go in there and fuck him, you're not my maid of honor anymore."

Rolling your eyes and laughing at her. "Whatever you say. You're drunk. Go to sleep." She begins to snore, signaling that she's passed out. You think about what she said in her drunk rant. You can't help the thoughts of what if she's right. Shaking your head, you ignore the thoughts and head to the guest bedroom where The Duke is waiting. You knock on the door and hear his deep voice saying Come in.

Opening the door, you see him sitting on the bed, legs spread. "I was wondering if you'd take me up on my invitation." He stands up and walks over to you. Your back leans against the door as he hovers over you. He cups your cheek, his thumb rubbing on your bottom lip, feeling the softness of your lips. He thinks about how nice they'd feel against his own. Not wanting to wait any longer, he presses his lips to yours. You feel the sparks as his lips finally touch yours. Hot, passionate kisses that take your breath, making it hard to breathe. His tongue invades your mouth, exploring and intertwining with yours. You feel like you’re suffocating, but it feels so good. His kisses are addicting. His hands move to the bottom of your shirt. "Raise your arms." Raising your arms, he pulls your shirt up over your head.

Once he discards it to the floor, he pulls you back into a kiss. Rough, calloused hands explore your upper half. Starting from your hips, up to your waist, and around to your back to unclasp your bra. It falls to the floor. His large hands cup your breasts, groping and pinching your nipples. You moan into the kiss. With an arm around your waist, he slightly bends down, wrapping his lips around your bud and sucks, as his free hand fondles the other. The tip of his tongue plays with the tip of your bud, hardening it. The feeling of your bud hardening under his tongue makes him moan. Your head falls back as moans leave your lips due to the pleasure. You comb your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to your chest. He switches to giving your other breast the same treatment with his tongue, playing with the previous one with his hand.

Once he's done giving your breasts attention, he moves back up and kisses you while his hands move down to your thighs. He enjoys the feel of your soft, squishy thighs. If only they could be wrapped around his head. "Jump". Jumping, he catches you by the back of your thighs as your legs wrap around his waist. Not breaking the kiss, he carries you over to the guest bed, pushing you down onto it. His lips travel down to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and hickeys. Your legs tighten around his hips, holding him close as you grind against his crotch, looking for some friction. "Someone's eager for my cock." He chuckles and teases.

The smirk leaves his face as your hand cups his cock through his pants, his breath hitching when you rub it. He grabs both of your hands, holding them against the bed next to your head. "Patience. I'll fill your pussy with my cock soon but first, I need a little taste." He litters kisses down your chest to your stomach. Letting go of your hands, he moves to the button on your jeans, unbuttoning it and pulling your pants down your legs. Tossing it to the floor, he spreads your legs and notices a wet spot on your panties. "Already wet for me and I've barely done anything." Fingers move to rub against the wet spot, making you moan. He leans down to lay on his stomach, switching his fingers with his lips. He kisses your pussy through your underwear, the wet spot growing. He experiments with the tip of his tongue, rubbing it against you. You groan from the little friction but it's still not enough. "More please." You quietly beg.

He moves your underwear to the side, enjoying the sight of your bare pussy. "Beautiful." You get embarrassed as he just lays there, admiring your pussy. "Don't just stare." You blush as you try to close your legs but he blocks you from doing that. "Sorry, I can't help myself." He shows his apology by rubbing his fingers between your folds, finally touching your pussy to help relieve the stress from the long wait. You gasp out at the feel of his rough fingers on your most sensitive spot. Rubbing your clit, one finger prods at your entrance, slowly teasing it. You whimper, silently telling him more. He pushes his finger inside you, feeling your tightness. He begins to slowly pump his finger, testing the pace as he rubs your clit. Moans fill his ears as he quickens his pace. You're already close, feeling the warmth in your lower belly. When you're about ready to cum, he pulls his fingers out, leaving you disappointed. "I'd prefer it if you came on my tongue for your first orgasm."

Slipping your underwear off and discarding it with the rest of your clothes, he spreads your legs wide, giving him full access to your core. It's a bit embarrassing but that soon leaves your mind once his mouth latches on your pussy. You moan aloud at the new sensation. His mouth was much more pleasurable than his fingers. His tongue licks your clit, switching between flicking his tongue and sucking. Your head falls back as you intertwine your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp. You already begin to feel that pleasurable warmth again in your lower belly when the pace of his tongue quickens. His tongue moves to circle your entrance, before sliding into you. He uses his thumb to rub your clit as his tongue explores your insides. The simultaneous pleasure finally pushes you over the edge as you cum on his tongue. Your sweet flavor decorates his taste buds. He groans from the delicious taste, the vibrations of his moans, and his continuous motions helping you to ride out your high.

You begin to feel overstimulated, wanting a break, but he wants more. "Gimmie more. I know you can." He replaces his tongue with two fingers, pumping them into you at a quick pace as his tongue flicks and laps at your clit. It feels so good but too much at the same time. You're not sure if you want to push his head away or pull him closer to your core. You begin to feel the warmth again, more intense this time. "Come on. Come for me. Come on my face, beautiful." He says against your pussy as he continues to pump his fingers and lick your clit at a fast pace. The warmth finally snaps in your belly. You squirt on his face, your sweet nectar filling his mouth as he tries to devour all of it, not wanting any drop to be wasted. Your beautiful moans fill his ears as he continues, his pace unrelenting. This causes you to quickly come again, tears filling your eyes at the immense pleasure. Something you've never felt before. You want more.

He begins to slow his ministrations, helping you calm down from your three climaxes. Rubbing your thighs and leaving a kiss on your pussy, it causes your thighs to twitch and a whine to leave your lips from the sensitivity. He moves back up to your face, melting his lips against yours, making you taste yourself as his tongue intertwines with yours. "Want to taste my cock now?" You eagerly nod your head, wanting to return the favor. "Good girl." He pecks your lips and gets up to stand at the edge of the bed. "On your knees." You shakily move yourself to your knees on the bed, face right in front of his covered cock. He stays silent, waiting for you to unbutton his pants.

Your hands move over to his pants, unbuttoning and unzipping. Pulling his pants down, he steps out of them. He's still dressed in his underwear but you can see the large outline of his cock. You grope him through his underwear, admiring the length of it. "Look who's being the tease now." You look up, eyes meeting his. You notice the dark lust in his eyes, silently begging you to free his cock. You hook your fingers in the waistband of his boxers, slowly pulling them down. His cock springs out as his underwear falls to his feet. You gape at the sight of his cock. Large and thick with a vein lining the bottom of it. "Like the view?" His voice breaks you out of your trance. You nod your head. "Good. Now wrap your hand around it." Wrapping your fingers around his thick length, you slowly move your hands into an up-and-down motion. You spit on his cock to make it easier to jerk him off. “Suck my cock.” You lick his tip, swirling your tongue around his head, and insert it into your mouth. Sucking on his tip, you slowly take him inch by inch. His thick girth is overwhelming but feels so exciting. He grabs your hair into a makeshift ponytail, moving your hair out of your face, giving him a better view of you sucking his cock. “Good girl. Try to take a bit more. Show me how good you are at sucking cock.” His lustful words turn you on more. You want to please him.

You slide him out of your mouth, a pop sound is heard when you remove your mouth from his tip. Moving his cock up, you place your tongue on the base of his cock, near his balls. Keeping eye contact with him, you lick a long stripe up on the underside of his cock, all the way to the tip, and slip him back into your warm mouth. You go at a medium pace while sucking his cock, continuing the deep eye contact, causing him to twitch in your mouth. “Fuck. You really do know how to suck cock, don’t ya?” You moan in reply, the vibrations around his cock making his breath hitch. “Can I fuck your mouth?” A muffled ‘mhm' is heard as you give him consent. Holding your head in place, he begins to gently thrust into your mouth. You relax your jaw and place your hands on his thighs as you let him use your mouth.

Looking up, the view above you is glorious. He’s looking down at you, watching you intently. When you lick one of his sensitive spots on his cock, he moans. Hearing his moans makes you happy, knowing that you’re able to make this hot man feel immense pleasure. Wanting to hear more of his moans, you use one of your hands to massage his balls as you suck his cock more. Curses leave his mouth as his head falls back with his eyes closed. You’re making him go crazy. He’s never felt this much pleasure before. But it’s not enough, he wants more of you.

He pulls you by your makeshift ponytail, pulling you off of his cock. "Get on your hands and knees for me." Listening to him, you turn around, getting on your knees and hands. He rubs the side of your thighs, up towards your ass, and gropes it. Grabbing his cock and giving it a few pumps, he rubs his cock head between your folds, teasing your clit. You slightly whine, wanting more, you shake your ass. He chuckles. “Patience beautiful. I’ll give you what you want in due time. You have to tell me what you want though.”

“Fuck me, please. Make me cum on your cock.” Embarrassment has long left you, mind too dazed from the lust and want for him to have his cock inside of you. It’s more than a want, it’s a need. “For you, anything.” He prods your entrance with his tip then finally slides his head in. Slowly sliding himself inside your pussy, you flinch a bit by his massive girth. It’s been a while since you’ve gotten laid and your previous boyfriends never had a size like The Duke’s.

Once you’ve relaxed and gotten used to his size, he slides his cock out to the tip and thrusts back into you. He continues this, turning into a steady pace. The view of his cock disappearing inside of you and the sight of your ass bouncing against his pelvis causes his control to falter. Sounds of your moans, the pap pap sound of your ass hitting his pelvis, his grunts, it’s becoming too much for you. His hand wanders over the expanse of your back, slightly pushing down on it, signaling you to arch your back so his cock can reach deeper into you. He’s hitting your soft spot, the shocks of pleasure shooting up your body, making your arms jelly and causing you to fall face-first into the pillow. Your moans are muffled into the pillow when he quickens his pace. He wraps his arms around you, pulling your upper body up against his chest. “I want to hear you. I want to hear the sounds you make when you finally cum on my cock.” He says into your ear. His hand slides down your stomach to your clit, rubbing it while thrusting into you. His head moves down to your neck, sucking and licking another hickey onto your skin.

One of your hands holds onto the arm that’s stimulating your clit while the other goes to his head, fingers interlocking with his hair, pushing his head into your neck. Your nails dig into his arm, but he doesn’t care. It excites him. His free hand grips your jaw, turning your head to face his own, pulling you into a breathtaking kiss. The softness of his kiss compared to his hard, deep thrusts makes your head dizzy and pussy tighten around him. You break the kiss, crying out as you cum on his cock, juices leaking down your thighs. Your legs shake from the exhaustion of being on your knees so much. He’s unrelenting. The pace of his actions does not falter one bit. You already want to cum again, and you don’t mind. You don’t want him to stop, lust taking over your mind, making it hard to think straight.

He’s getting close as well. The tightening of your pussy around his cock with the melody of your moans filling his ears edge him closer and closer. Until he suddenly pulls out. You’re confused and disappointed as you’re denied your next orgasm. You turn your head to look back at him, whining for more. You’re about to ask him why he stopped, but the question is unable to leave your mouth as his hands grab you, flipping you over on your back. He crawls over you, pressing his chest into yours as his weight pushes you into the bed, making you unable to escape his intense gaze. Hands grab your wrists, pinning them to the bed on each side of your head. Sliding himself into you, he doesn’t hesitate and continues his quick pace. He looks into your eyes, intent on watching your facial expressions as you fall over the edge once again. “I want to see your expression when I fill you up.” He whispers against your lips before connecting his own with yours. Your moans are muffled in a passionate kiss as his thrusts get deeper and slower. Every time he thrusts in and out of you, his groin rubs against your clit, adding to the pleasure. He breaks the kiss, giving you the ability to speak. “Fuck. I’m gonna cum again. Don’t stop. Please.” He smirks as he pushes his hips down against yours, moving his hips in a circular motion, sending more pleasure to your soft spots.

You cry out as you release your nectar on his pelvis and cock. You twitch and shake under him as he continues his thrusting, whining from the overstimulation. You feel him twitch inside you the closer he gets to his orgasm. Wrapping your legs around him, you urge him to cum. He loses his self-control and grabs your thighs, pushing them to your chest, and pumps into you quickly. Tears fill your eyes from the sensitivity, conflicted about whether to tell him to slow down or speed up more. He grunts and moans above you. His beautiful, addicting moans. He moves his hand to your clit, rubbing it in circles. When you once again cum on his cock for the nth time, that finally sends him over.

He quickly pulls his cock out of you and moves to hover himself over your belly, straddling you as he vigorously pumps his cock. His head falls back, sensual moans fill the room as his seed spills over your breasts, covering them in his sticky, warm liquid. Once he finishes emptying himself on you, he topples over on the bed, lying next to you as you both try to catch your breaths.

“I thought you were going to cum inside.” You sheepishly say, trying to hide your disappointment. He turns his head to look at you and he notices the slight disappointment on your face, making him chuckle. “I don’t do that on the first meet. But if you really want me to, go on a date with me.” He turns onto his side and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “You gonna pay for me this time?” You tease, smirking. “Of course. What kind of gentleman would I be if I let a pretty lady like you pay.” You chuckle in reply, but a thought nags you in the back of your mind. “Do you say this to all of your clients?”

“Nope. I usually don’t sleep with clients. It’s a rule in my business contract.”

“Oh no, are you going to get in trouble then?” You ask, slight worry in your voice. He only chuckles, leaving you confused. Cupping your cheek, he kisses your lips. The kiss only lasts a few seconds but it portrays his feelings. “I don’t mind breaking the rules if it’s for you. There’s something about you that makes me addicted to you. Plus, the sex was mind-blowing, don’t you think?” You gently slap his chest. “Such a sweet talker.” Drowsiness and exhaustion start to consume you, making your eyes heavy and yawn. He tightens his hold on you, resting your head in the crook of his neck. Once settling down, he notices his own exhaustion due to a very busy night. Both of you soon fall asleep, satisfied.

Sun rays peak through the crack in the curtains, shining on your face, causing you to stir and slowly open your eyes. Groaning, you rub your eyes to ease the sting of the sudden blinding sunlight. You move to turn away from the sunlight, but you notice that something is blocking you from doing so. You feel a solid build against your back and a strong, heavy arm wrapped around your hip. It takes you a second to gather your surroundings, the memories of last night a slight blur. You remember some moments from the bachelorette party. Playing games, opening gifts, serving drinks, then the entertainment part of the party. You slowly begin to remember what happened after the party ended. Accepting the invitation from The Duke and meeting him in the guest bedroom, then having your face shoved in the covers as he pounds into you from behind. You blush once you finally remember everything.

You slowly turn your head to look behind you and your questions are answered when you see The Duke is the one lying behind you. You carefully try to remove yourself from under his arm, trying to avoid waking him up. Suddenly, he wraps both of his arms around your waist, hold tightening as he pulls you close to his chest. "Where do you think you're going?" He whispers in his deep morning voice, nuzzling into your neck. “Um-m I need to get ready for my friend’s wedding.”

“There’s no rush. It wouldn’t hurt to get a little bit more rest. Or we could get a little session in before you have to leave.” Littering kisses down your neck, his hand gropes your body, making you excited. “As tempting as that sounds, don’t forget, I’m the maid of honor so I have a lot to do on the day of the wedding.” You move to sit up in the bed, pulling away from him to stop yourself from falling into the trap of being ravaged by the handsome man again.

He grabs your wrist when you try to get up, moving your hand to his lips to leave a kiss on it. “When can I see you again?”

“Well, since you do owe me a date, how about you come to the wedding with me as my date?”

“How could I deny a request from a beautiful lady.” He teases, inching his face close to yours. When he goes to kiss you, you stop him by putting a finger over his lips. “Best we get ready then.”

“Not even a small kiss, especially after how close we are already.” Smiling, you move your face close to his, lips slightly grazing each other. Just as he thinks you’re about to kiss him, you pull back. “Later. After you get ready.” Disappointment is shown on his face this time, making you giggle. Getting up, you start heading towards the guest bedroom bathroom. You turn back to look at him. “Come on, let’s shower.” He throws the blanket off of his bare body, getting up to follow you. You can already see his cock is hard again, causing heat to shoot down to your core. While lost in your thoughts, he picks you up, getting you out of your daze. “Come on. Didn’t you say you have a wedding to get ready for, maid of honor? You can admire my cock in the shower while getting ready.” He says, his signature flirty smile graces his face. Geez, he was going to be the death of you.

#wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut

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beloved-blaiddyd · 8 days

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Yandere rancher!Gallagher vs Yandere cowboy!Boothill over a mail order bride!reader fic when? When I'm done with the event probably-

Tentative fic title: Holding A Wedding On Top Of His Funeral

“Let my spouse go.”

“Or what, eh? Send a herd on my way? Chuck that flimsy shot in my direction? Don't act tuff when I can put a bullet on your skull.”

“You know nothin' about Penacony. Let (Y/n) go. Now.”

“Ha. Well I'll be. Time to get serious.”

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scribbledghost · 28 days

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Hello, how r u? I would like to make a request Yautja x reader (f)

I saw a drawing on Pinterest of an Albino Yautja and I got an idea and I can't get it out of my head.

It may be about an albino Yautja who, because of his condition, is despised and no female accepts him as his mate. This caused him to develop insecurities and barriers around him. Afterwards, the Elders took pity on him and through agreements with planet Earth sent him a human wife as a gift.

the rest is up to you. I trust you and if you like it I would love it if I could do it 🫶🏻🥺

So, this took me some time on, because I wanted to adjust it a little (as-is, it kind of made me think of like. a mail-order bride scenario? so I wanted to shift it a little away from that. hope that's okay).

So I'd like to imagine there's some type of agreement in place between Yautja Prime and Earth where humans and yautja can volunteer for matchmaking-type services.

Both parties are free to accept or decline each offer as they see fit, with no consequences on either side.

He figures he has no chance at finding a yautja mate, so he tries his luck with an Earth one.

When you first see him, completely snow-white in color, you're captivated. Most yautja are darker in color and have natural patterns that help them blend in with organic surroundings. This one? He'd probably only be suited for a hunt in the arctic.

You both talk. Get to know each other. He confides that no yautja female would have him due to his albinism, and genuinely seems a bit confused when you tell him you think he's beautiful.

There's a bit of two-fold camaraderie/commiserating if you're also somewhat of an outsider on Earth as well for any reason.

Granted, he's still somewhat closed-off. His past experiences have warranted some emotional barriers. Being an outcast in a warrior society can do that.

He tells you one night of being alone on hunts when he should have had help. How he'd barely managed to scrape by with his life, and even when he'd brought back trophy after trophy, he still wasn't seen as good enough.

He probably falls for you as soon as you start marveling at all the trophies he's collected. Or any time you thank him for bringing you one.

He's... a little awkward when it comes to courting. He's never had any experience with it, just heard stories of what you're "supposed to do".

Brings you lots of dead things at first. He's like a cat. Look, human mate! I can provide!!! Love me!!

So just... go easy on him and tell him what you need from him. He'll adjust.

Over time, as you two get closer, your bond is unshakable. Everyone on both sides knows that neither of you are going anywhere, having finally found each other.

Also, I can see both of you being fiercely protective of the other. Whenever anyone tries to shun either of you, the other immediately comes to their aid. Sometimes with violence.

#yautja #yautja x reader #predator #predator x reader #ghost scribbles

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imaginedreamwrite · 1 year

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#4 is giving me Silverfox Cowboy Curtis and his mail order bride vibes and her being grateful for her new farm life and all her precious animal babies!

The bed was empty yet warm, and yet he reached for your place anyway. Curtis had felt lingering warmth upon his palm, letting it settle there before he rolled onto his side and stared at the LED lights from his alarm clock. They were boldened, a true sign that he had slept in after he promised he would be up early, and with a husky groan Curtis had drawn the blankets away from himself and stood. As he reached his arms above his head to stretch, he had caught onto the last few melodic lines of your laugh that filtered through the open window.

He was curious by your departure and when he wandered to the window and looked down at the pen nearest the barn, he saw you. A smile crept to his face when he watched you with a few weeks old calf leading it around the pen while it’s mother ate a few feet away. It was naturally following you, not fearing you or the soft halter you’d slipped around it’s muzzle, and it was comforted by its mothers’ calmed state.

It was well known that you were nothing like his ex-wife, and that notion was well received among all his hands. His ex-wife would often scold the men who he hired to work on the ranch or she would make known her disgust for the animals that needed care. She never cared enough or wanted to learn how to work on the ranch, all she wanted was to have her excursions funded and her shopping habits cared for. Honestly, Curtis hadn’t even know what had drawn him to her in the first place.

But you…you were everything he wished he had in the first place. Oftentimes you were out before he was, to take care of the chickens and give them feed, or to collect eggs and release the ducks into their yard. You were hands on and willing to get dirty for the sake of doing something on the property instead of staying inside or going to town.

You loved animals, you wanted to be around them. You had settled yourself into this life, with him and with the animals he had here, and that was such a relief for him. Curtis wanted a second chance, he wanted to have another marriage with someone who would appreciate this life he built here.

“Good morning!” You called to Curtis, waving your hand and temporarily taking your eyes off the calf behind you. “It’s nice out today!”

“Awake before me, Mrs. Everett.” Curtis leaned with his arm against the window frame and chuckled low as the ignored calf butted its head into the back of your thighs. “Someone’s feeling left out.”

“Okay, okay!” You turned away from him, temporarily, to scratch the calf’s head.

“Wait there, love!” Curtis called out to you, bending to pluck a worn shirt from the floor “I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Sure!” Your answer was slightly fainter now, distracted by the calf pulling away to get a drink from its mama. Curtis watched you, he took another look at you and the calf before he yanked his shirt over his head, stepped away from the window and walked out of the bedroom.

You were his life, he was never going to have anyone better than you.

#cowboy!curtis x reader #cowboy!Curtis Everett x reader #silverfox!cowboy!curtis everett x mail order bride!reader #silverfox!cowboy!curtis x reader #cowboy!Curtis Everett #mail order bride au #mail order bride!Reader

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ceilidho · 8 months

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Price, fertility clinic, finding the mother of his children…

He knows he wants kids, he wants the whole picket fence lifestyle but he doesn’t want to have to court someone and get them used to the idea so he goes to all the clinics he can under the guise of looking for information about donating just to scope them out. And once he finds someone he likes he’s all “you’re coming home with me, you’re having my children, you’re gonna be my wife and you’re never leaving me”

the thing about Price is that he's sooooo suited for like a mail order bride au or arranged marriage or that fertility clinic "meet cute" (lmao) idea because he's a very busy man that also desperately wants a family (at least, that's how i read him). he just doesn't have the time to do all that courting stuff, even though in another life he might enjoy it.

he's very romantic and very traditional, so of course he'd love to wine and dine a woman, but he doesn't have time to go through that whole journey only for it not to work out. he needs certainty. he needs to know that his efforts won't go to waste. now if he can indulge in the sensual, romantic stuff with the knowledge that she can't leave him :))

#thinking about a mail order bride for Price and my brain is going brrrrrrr #ceil writing #price x reader #price x you #price/reader #john price #captain john price #captain price #cod price

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kneelingshadowsalome · 4 months

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Okay, so in one of the comments that you replied to in your “gold rush AU! Konig”, you stated that she’s heads over heels in love with him, but apparently hasn’t shown/told him yet. And even though he believes that she doesn’t love him, he’s still so in love with her and just wants to make her happy. (That has got to pull at her heartstrings because this odd but kind man simply just loves her.)

Would you be willing to do a next part? Showing that she was just resisting what she knew along and that was that she does love and only wants him. Because although he went about marrying her immediately instead of taking the time to get to know each other and even though he’s from an European background, who is a giant with an accent and working to hit gold to support her financially, he’s still been nothing but kind, loving, and can apparently rock her world in bed! (Basically she was resisting in giving in into admitting she loves him because she had this WHOLE mindset/vision about how it was ALL gonna go down but since it didn’t go the way she thought it would, she was resisting his love for the “fairytale” version she wanted.)

Eventually she finally confesses that she does love him but had to get to that conclusion slowly on her own terms. This of course makes him so happy and he feels so blessed to gain his wife’s love; he once again promises that he will do everything in his powers to ensure she’s happy for all the rest of the days of her life. Which he does because some time later he hits it big in gold which lets him upgrade the “shack” they’re living in to convert it into an actual home for them to spend the rest of their lives together (with future children).

And he asks her of what she wants him to buy for her since he can afford to get it for her, only for her to ask for a new and bigger (so he fits comfortably) reinforced bed; because she wants him to be able to rest properly in a comfortable bed AND she doesn’t want to hear it creak as he plows her into nirvana/heaven. This of course causes him to blue screen but once he reboots his brain, he promises that he’ll get the best bed that will not only support their nightly activities but be very comfortable for both of them.

It’s only once they get the new bed and use/“break it in”/“christen” it for the first time does he finally gets her pregnant on that first night.

Oh, your writings are just so good! 😊

Oh I love the bed scenario and König wanting to spoil her and the story about how he got her pregnant for the first time (you can’t tell me these two won’t have a small flock of annoying little kids running around eventually) so much! 😭💞

And I actually wrote a little something for this because people were putting me in jail for the roaring angst of the 1st part so here’s how these silly pookies got to their happily ever after:

Our pompous little mail order bride is, in fact, so in love with König that it’s not even funny.

It's so bad that she looks out the window and sighs as she waits for him to come home... Scoots away the minute she catches him in the horizon, of course. She has better things to do than wait by the window sill like some wanton prostitute!

She whimpers like one, however, when the door slams shut and her husband comes to grope her from behind, telling her he wants to take her on the table (there’s food there and they were supposed to eat first, what a horrible man!) Not to talk of getting wet just from the sight of him looming over her, she has no objections with getting spread on the sturdy planks for taking. She should probably be thankful that the dinner table is made of solid wood and is not some delicate piece hauled here from Europe because it could never take the brute force of König’s advances...

After they're both sated and done, he dares to dip his finger in one of the cast iron pots filled to the brim with stew. Has a taste while still inside her, only chuckles to himself when she furrows her brows from how uncivilised he is. What kind of a man barges in his home like a burglar, takes his wife on the table, then tastes the hearty stew like it’s only normal for a man to be hungry after plowing his lady until they're both shaking? Even the bed is about to break at night, these pieces of furniture have done nothing wrong to this man and yet he treats them like they're nothing but disposable bits of wood.

His lack of manners never ceases to astonish her; he even tries to give her a taste of the food too, and laughs when she pushes him away and straightens her skirts, how is she supposed to walk around with his seed running down her thighs? All the pretty things he got her from town are in need of a wash already, but she still hums a soft happy tune while looking at her reflection in the mirror, donning the pretty hat he just brought her along with coffee and flour. (She thinks he can’t hear or see her being visibly happy, but König takes mental notes every time her eyes shine a little brighter from his gifts. She's not lacking anything, that's for sure, and isn’t it nice that he remembered how she looked at that silly little hat when they walked by her favorite store…? Anything his princess wants, she shall have!)

Years and years of lonely digging in this harsh land far away from home have made her husband think that no woman could ever want him unless he buys their love, and she does enjoy the pretty little frills he brings her as offerings. But what would kill her is if he knew she had actual feelings for him… This was supposed to be an arrangement, a marriage between two adults, not a romantic passionate affair! That sort of thing only happens in books, that's the first thing she learned when she came here.

He should have courted her properly first, but now it's all ruined, there's no excitement and intensity... Except that her heart is always hammering in her chest, she feels like a trapped bird flitting inside her corset. She's always flustered when he goes under her skirts, her chest is about to collapse in on itself when she sees him flash a smile her way, carry her more silk and demurely apologize that the wrappings are dirty because of his hands, kiss her neck after copulation like it's the holiest place on earth...

And God Almighty, what would this man think of her if she confessed her love to him? He would probably laugh and think she’s a harlot who’s in desperate need of his cock, that she's indecent and impure…

Luckily, the brute is so stupid that he doesn’t see the way his little princess–as he now calls her–looks up at him when he traces her bottom lip with his thumb. She’s relatively sure he doesn’t notice the tiny gasps just before she comes, the helpless, adoring stares she shoots at him right after, because that glassy, worshipping stare of his own is only born of lust, that’s for sure.

He can’t see her figure flash in the window when he’s walking towards home, she’s made sure of that…

Or has she?

The man is dumb, but he’s not a total simpleton, even if his eternal sadness is slowly turning into a teasing, an even hungrier form of love. She fears he will simply devour her one of these days if he knew how deeply in love with him she is as well...

And she fears herself even more than she fears him. Didn’t the priest warn about exactly this kind of simple-minded, wanton lust in his last sermon? She was always taught that marriage is supposed to be about companionship and genial living together, not about sweaty, toe curling, mind numbing copulation.

They’re fornicating like animals in the little shack she has grown so fond of, shy to the changes he’s talking about every day since he struck some large gold vein. He openly fantasizes about getting them a large house, a small manor, even, and she knows it’s all just for her because this man is content with very little… So little, that he accepts any small crumb of affection she gives him like it’s an entire rain of manna from heaven.

And it’s only because she’s ashamed that she can’t show her true feelings for him. The gentlemen of the city now feel like fancy peacocks compared to this burly man who’s not afraid to get his hands dirty and his dick wet. Those men look delicate and boring and ridiculous next to the hairy giant who’s forearms she stares in the evenings like they’re her own personal cancan show.

It’s crazy, how she looks at him like he’s nothing but a piece of meat – are women even supposed to feel this way? She should say her prayers, because her foreign husband looks like a god while sharpening his ax by the fire, with slow, deliberate movements, the trembling hands finding a smooth, strong dance only when they’re wielding a pickaxe or a whetstone or a knife.

He catches her staring once, her frightful stare big and helpless in the flickering flames, and he gives her a sad, longing smile in return.

“I’m sorry, princess,” he gruffs softly. “Ich weiss… I know I should shave...”

Her head gives an involuntary shake, minimal and shy, because she doesn’t want him to shave. She adores that coarse stubble that leaves her skin red and irritated, she loves how he looks when he has so much going on in his life that he doesn’t have time to groom himself.

“No…?” He asks hesitantly, straightening a little on the chair that’s really only a piece of log. “You like it like this...?”

She nods. Shyly again, and just once, while her eyes drift on his lips.

It’s intimate, how the silence envelops them with both tension and grace. It’s all she can give right now, and he knows it, knows also that this whole exchange is basically a love confession. Her affection, her want, her dedication and surrender soar and swell all at once, and he can see it... All of it.

He rises, and abandons the ax, his softening stare never leaving hers. He walks to her like a gentleman, like he's Mr. Rochester himself, like she was Ms. Eyre – although she doesn’t want to be Jane Eyre and she doesn’t want him to be a dark, handsome gentleman. She wants him to be just as he is, the stranger from the North who works hard and loves even harder, who picks her up like she’s an angel and not a lady.

“Let’s get you to bed, hmm?”

His gaze is so soft, it’s starting to relax into some knowledge she has in her foolishness betrayed.

But it’s alright… Everything’s just as it should be.

She wraps her hands around his neck and whispers, “Yes,” and the smile that tugs at his lips finally melts into one of those I knew it smiles he sometimes wears when he brings her something nice from the town.

He doesn’t push her to reveal more information about how much she loves his stubble, but he does make her scream it out into the warm cottage air as he goes down between her legs. She doesn’t want to know what the local priest would say about this: a man making his mark on the insides of her thighs with that scraping beard, how he makes her core throb with his ever-hungry mouth. She doesn’t even care.

It’s a paradise and an inferno, where he’s sending her to, and who knew a brutish digger from some distant land could suddenly be so eloquent with his tongue? Who knew a man could do things like these to a woman...? Who knew married life could be like this?

“You liked that, didn’t you, princess,” he asks when he’s done with her, and holds her surprisingly gentle when she’s still shaking and squirming softly on the bed. Not God, not even the Devil, could cloud the full blown affection in her eyes. She’s in love – it’s not just lust, but love she feels for this man, and she feels like a fool for not recognizing she had gold in her hands all along.

“Yes,” she says, then smiles, then laughs, because it’s fairly obvious that she can’t speak those words even if she wanted to. He wrecked her so completely...

“I told you I’d make you happy, Sonnenschein.”

He smiles a little, looks down at her like she’s nothing but a baby who finally stopped her eternal crying.

“Oh I’m more than happy,” she says, this time tears clouding her vision, happy tears born from being free from years of imprisonment. He doesn’t strike her as the kind of man who cries, but there’s a faint glow in his eyes as well, a shimmer that both takes her in and pulls her under. This is something they don’t talk about in church... This is a thing they never write about in books.

She lays her hand on him, on the coarse cheek that is now slightly wet from a single tear.

“You’re crying,” she whispers, because her voice wouldn’t carry the weight of her words at this point.

“Ja…? Well... I’m happy too,” he explains, with a shortness of breath and a confusion to his voice.

He blinks the rest of it away, but the sweet moment stays, lingers on until she draws him into a kiss – another thing they never talk about in novels, a woman kissing a man – and she tastes both him and her on his lips, how well he loved her, and when he moans slightly from her reciprocating that love, she holds him closer, closer, closer… Until he shivers too.

#mail order bride #gold rush au #könig x reader #könig x you #könig fluff #falling in love

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freddiegene · 2 months

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I’m so excited to share that I’ve finally finished rewriting and expanding Chapter 1! To celebrate, I want to share it with you. Please note that this is not edited yet and will likely not be the final version.

Read the full article on my blog!

#wild west #omegaverse #historical fiction #cowboys #mail ordered brides #self publishing #writers #authors #readers

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genericpuff · 3 months

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Can you call Tina Belcher driving through a parking lot at an anxious snail's pace a driving "style"? So why do we try to use "style" as a defense for LO's pacing problems?

There's something about how Lore Olympus engrosses people within its weekly doses of H x P content and cliffhangers that makes people not realize just how long Lore Olympus takes to get to the point of, well, anything. Many plotlines are setup, and then go untouched for weeks, sometimes months at a time, before seeing any sort of progress, much less a resolution. In this, I'm going to actually give you time ranges on some of the more egregious payoffs and continuations of plotlines that were setup - some that are now resolved, others that have yet to see the light of day.

CONTENT WARNING: I will be discussing the SA plotline, and there will be spoilers for Episode 265. I will also be showing pictures of some rancid ass tattoos, I know that sounds random for what we're discussing, but trust me on this one, I have a point to make. Also there's a Junji Ito panel from The Enigma of Amigara Fault... yeah, that one.

LEUCE

Let's start with an easy one that's not exactly tied to the main plot. The Leuce plotline. She was first introduced in Episode 201 as a 'bargaining chip' from Zeus to Hades, in a misfired attempt to get Hades to call a truce over the embargo between the Underworld and Olympus.

At the time of this episode's release, by all accounts this seemed to be a cut and dry reference to Hades' first wife, Leuce, unfortunately reduced to a mail-order bride who Hades, of course, turns down, because he doesn't want the "I can't believe it's not butter" Persephone, he wants overpriced, tastes-the-same-but-costs-more-because-of-the-brand-name Persephone.

But then she came back, 36 episodes later - in real time, this was roughly 38 weeks for free-to-read users as the series went on a 2 week hiatus near the start of S3 - only to be used as a cliffhanger leading into a recycled Minthe plotline, in which she attempted to seduce Hades in Episode 238, only to be shot down for the second time.

If you're having a tough time wrapping your head around how long 36 weeks really is, that's nine months. If you got pregnant when Leuce was first revealed, you'd be entering the final window of pregnancy by the time she returned, assuming the baby didn't come pre-term.

Another 7 weeks later, enough time to actually get pregnant again following that first baby, we got the sudden continuation of that plot, with Persephone invading her home and filling it with barn animals, with a not-so-subtle threat to Leuce to stay away from her husband.

"But what about the text messages? Were they really from Hades?" Well, if you were someone reading this comic in real time, you wouldn't have this question answered for another SIX EPISODES - that's a month and a half in real time - and the answer would ultimately be "she made it up, she was 'manifesting', none of it's real, they should call her Deleuceional!" Six weeks for a nothingburger answer to wrap up a nothingburger sideplot, all in the pursuit to 'prove' for the 1275903729 time that Hades and Persephone are truly meant to be together.

EROS AND PSYCHE

This is a big one. The Eros x Psyche plotline was one of the most popular romance subplots, second only to Hades and Persephone, throughout the comic. And yet, despite people holding their breath to see what would become of the star-crossed lovers, a mortal and a god-

-readers in September 2021 would not find out how their recent skirmish with Apollo in Episode 171 would resolve itself until Episode 218, A YEAR AND TWO MONTHS - ROUGHLY 60 WEEKS AND A MIDSEASON HIATUS - LATER, and even then it would only show us Eros, who quickly summarizes what happened to him during the entire trial and Kronos arc that his anticipated romance storyline got sidelined for - he got married and now he has a child.

And it wouldn't be for ANOTHER six weeks that his wife and the mother of his child would actually show up, not alongside Eros, but Aphrodite and Hephaestus, in Episode 224.

What happened to her after finally having her 'true form' revealed to Eros? Well, that's not shown for another three weeks in Episode 227. During this a bunch of info about how Psyche got out of that sticky Apollo situation is dumped on us and we just have to go along with it as she becomes a goddess, not because she earned a place among the Olympians, but because Zeus needs her to spy on Apollo, which was actually shown one episode prior in 226.

So let's say you got knocked up again after that Leuce baby, when Eros and Psyche were shot out of the sky. Welp, in the time it took for Rachel to get around explaining what happened to the both of them, now you just had your second baby and for all we know, you could have gone for a third and already be well into or near the end of your first trimester, if you really wanted to get busy. You'd have a Dionysus, a Melinoe, and maybe even a Demophoon. Congratulations.

And speaking of Melinoe-

MELINOE

Turns out the interloper and the child in Tartarus were one and the same, or at least that's what I'm assuming, because otherwise that would mean there's some whole ass other baby to worry about that we haven't even been introduced to yet.

Melinoe, or "the child deity", was first established in Episode 218.

But as per LO tradition, the child would only mentioned in passing every now and then until finally being revealed as Melinoe in Episode 252, a whopping... THIRTY EIGHT FUCKING WEEKS LATER.

And that waiting is still ongoing as Melinoe is, of course, still trapped in Tartarus, with no end in sight. Since then, Hades and Persephone have gotten married, kidnapped a child, Persephone has terrorized a nymph and caused yet ANOTHER genocide, and they've resurrected a child that was suddenly revealed to be Demeter's. Thirty eight weeks and counting of dragging on a plotline that we're supposed to believe is dire while the characters do sweet fuck all.

What was the name of that other dream baby that Rachel referenced from some obscure non-legitimate source?

Riiiight, Brimos. Congrats, there's pregnancy number 4. But can we find a way to make a fifth happen?

KASSANDRA

We're first introduced to Kassandra, another implied victim of Apollo's, in Episode 226 when a photo of her is found on Apollo's pen drive which was conveniently left on the ground for Psyche to swipe.

In Episode 227, they theorize on how they could track down this mystery woman, using either Eros or Aphrodite's abilities to find her through the power of

✨love✨

How will that actually work though? Has anyone ever been in love with Kassandra, or has she ever been in love with anyone else?

Any bets on how long it would be until we'd get our answer?

Episode 251. The same episode where we're finally told about Leuce's delusions, we suddenly skip to the reveal of Kassandra being Apollo's personal oracle.

And it still doesn't end up answering our question as to how Kassandra was tracked down, by the way. Eros and Psyche sorta just conveniently find her at the same time Apollo happens to be there when he's getting her to deliver her big prophecy to him.

That's twenty four weeks, meaning you're now near the end of your second trimester with child #4. Whoever the child is remains to be seen but I'm sure Rachel will find a way to shoehorn another helpless baby into the plot for Hades and Persephone to rescue who we can use for this metaphor.

But none of these come close to the greatest unresolved plotline of them all, the one plotline that has outlasted even the main H x P plotline of Lore Olympus' story-

APOLLO

Or more specifically, the SA. Rachel has tried so hard to twist Apollo into a villain of Disney proportions, through his sudden involvement with Ouranos, while also using him as a mouthpiece for her own critics by having him literally dish out word-for-word the criticisms that have been made towards Rachel's writing of Persephone-

But the core foundation of his plotline goes all the way back to 2018, when he assaulted Persephone, a plotline that has yet to resolve itself or show any progression beyond Rachel's half-baked attempts at speedrunning Persephone's healing process, while Apollo is still at large and hasn't been brought to justice.

We've seen her in very poorly-written therapy where her assault was addressed once. We've seen her grapple with the potential consequences of the SA through a gynecologist scene that, as I've discussed before, does more harm than good in helping the discussion around women's sexual health. And of course, Rachel will pepper in vague references to the SA every now and then when she's bothered to remember that it's a plotline she wrote and still hasn't resolved:

And judging by how the story has been progressing, Rachel seems far more intent on simply using Apollo as a mouthpiece for criticism and a puppet for Ouranos rather than focusing on the bigger issues, all while Persephone has helped more people cope with the assault that happened to her rather than receiving help herself.

What's really telling is that despite half of the Olympians at this point knowing what Apollo did, not one of them even tries to convince Persephone to come forward, or say something themselves. Daphne has more than enough reason to come forward. Artemis, Hera, Eros, Hermes, and Hephaestus all know what he did, and yet none of them say a thing, even when those of them who haven't been conveniently shoehorned out of the plot are still in the same room as him-

The assault scene happened in August 2018. It's been five and a half years since it was established, and while there have been small efforts made to resolve it - from Hera and Hephaestus having the photos deleted to Persephone seeking therapy - there's less reason now than ever for it to not be addressed, especially with so much at stake. I could side with Persephone not wanting to say anything in the beginning, when he was blackmailing her with the photos and her TGOEM scholarship was on the line, but now that she's a Queen, rich, and married to Hades, living in the Underworld where he can't get to her, without any schooling or scholarship or job to worry about or the photos hanging over her head, it comes across as flat out irresponsible that not a single person thinks it's worth mentioning. Even the narrative itself seems to be trying to undo the SA entirely.

At this point, I'm not confident it will be mentioned at all, and that Apollo will be conveniently dealt with as a pawn of Ouranos rather than as a perpetrator of violence towards women.

A FINAL ANALYSIS OF LO'S PACING

There are certainly far more examples of this weekly edging happening throughout LO, but I hope the ones I provided get across the point I'm trying to make about its pacing.

Of course, none of these gaps in time are happening back-to-back-to-back. This is Lore Olympus' writing "style", if you can call it that - constantly bombard the reader with separate plot points so that they'll either not remember the ones that were left behind, or so that Rachel can buy herself time to get herself out of the corner she wrote herself into. It's the equivalent of clickbait, constantly grabbing your attention with shiny new things that will replace whatever you just saw in your brain, on a constantly repeating cycle. It's the writing process of inexperienced amateurs, like what you'd see in short stories written by fifth graders - "and then this happened, and then this happened, and then this happened", with no theme or overarching meaning tying them together; and if you were to ask them why a certain thing happens, especially if it logically doesn't make sense, the answer is just, "well, because it does." There's no rhyme or reason, they just thought it was cool.

And I say "style" because while fans of LO have definitely defended the story's pacing as just a writing style, the actual execution of what they're implying is painful to watch and not what any experienced writer would call a legitimate style. It's not uncommon at all in long-running series like this to jump from plotline to plotline, often times longform stories like these have to balance multiple side plots at once to keep things engaging and to bulk up the plot with more actual content.

But in most cases, the reader will expect the speed of a plot's resolution to be relative to its urgency. If a casual B plot with low stakes is introduced, it's not necessarily doing any harm if it just sits there for a bit before finally being resolved. After all, it's low stakes and no one is being hurt by it existing on the sidelines. It might feel a bit like pointless fluff, but there's nothing necessarily wrong with fluff and it can offer fun and relaxed reprieves from the overarching narrative, assuming you integrate them well so they're not drawing attention away from those more urgent plotlines at the worst possible times (looking at you, Stranger Things S2 Episode 7-)

But when even the high stakes plots are being hung out to dry and treated like distractions and fluff, it comes across less like a decisive writing "style" and more just directionless pantsing from an inexperienced writer who's gotten themselves in way too deep.

And that's what really separates Rachel's writing problems from "style". Style is decisive. Style is the act of referencing over a set period of time, crafting what you like and what you've learned into something new, with rounds and rounds of fine-tuning. Style is experience put into action.

And, while I don't typically like using my own work as a comparison, LORE | REKINDLED is meant to try and recapture the original magic of Lore Olympus' art style and writing foundations - and even then, you can still see the clear difference between Episodes 14 and 44, which use the same panel from the same scene, but look vastly different due to the improvement and refinement that's happened over time.

Same style, but different levels of experience and skill, which is to be expected after weeks and weeks of fine-tuning and deliberate practice.

If you're lacking in your fundamentals, whether in art or writing, you can't equate that lack of skill to "style" because you're not choosing to be inexperienced, you just are. And that's okay! But to try and pass it off as 'style' implies that you're choosing to be inexperienced - when in reality, if you tried to put out anything beyond your skill level, you simply wouldn't be able to, because you haven't gained those skills yet. Like fifth graders writing short stories with the "and then this happened" model, "it's just my style" is often used as an excuse by young artists and writers who don't understand that style is not exclusively an end result of inexperience.

I'm gonna go on a tangent here, but there's this controversial but trendy style in tattooing called 'ignorant', and it's best defined as "tattooing badly on purpose".

These tattoos are regularly praised for their simplistic ingenuity and visual aesthetic but equally criticized for being the opposite of what many artists have worked to overcome - being "bad at art". After all, who would willingly pay for a bad-looking tattoo? It's because it's the style that's in demand. I would argue that it takes a lot of confidence and mastery of the craft to be purposefully bad at it and make it look good, as contradictory as that sounds.

As much as the lines may be wobbly and the anatomy poor, ignorant style tattoos are done purposefully by experienced artists who still know how to properly tattoo. As much as they may look like they were drawn by a middle schooler, they will still heal properly, the lines will hold up, and the client will not (or at least, should not) experience any excessive scarring or unhygienic practices as one would experience from an actual inexperienced artist-

In a genuinely poorly-done tattoo, the evidence of the inexperience is literally written all over the body. The skin swells, the ink bleeds out, the lines are inconsistent in their depth, and there's clear signs of trauma to the skin that will undoubtedly result in a poorly-healed tattoo (and that's not even getting into the larger health risks such as contracting blood diseases due to a poorly kept space). It's not hard to see the difference between a bad tattoo and a tattoo that's intentionally bad.

It's the age old saying in a different medium - only once you learn the rules can you properly break them.

Rachel never learned these rules in her writing and it's evident to anyone who knows these rules and is viewing LO through a critical lens - or in my case, experiencing it on a week to week basis. It's a regularly occurring problem in the medium of webcomics as a whole - thinking that knowing how to draw is enough, and that writing comes dead last, if at all. When in reality, comics are a marriage of art and writing, you can't simply do one really well and allow the other to drag behind. That's not to say there aren't comics that succeed at having bad art and good writing, if anything a well-written comic can save bad art-

But if you have a comic with good art and bad writing, that's when a comic opens itself up to harsher criticism. As much as art may be the visual forefront of comics, if you want to keep your audience along for the long road that stretches ahead, you need to have a strong foundation in writing, or at least, enough of a plan to ensure you're not driving in the dark. The art can be as gorgeous as you want it to be, but if the plot is weak, then no one will have any reason to check back in week to week.

And such is Lore Olympus' biggest weakness. Much of what we praise LO for back in its first season was simply its foundation. It's very easy to praise a story's writing when it hasn't had to payoff what it's setup. Having ideas is easy, and early LO is rife with good ideas - but many of those ideas have since fallen flat, even the ones you wouldn't expect.

Ideas are a dime a dozen, but actually executing them in a way that can be engaging from start to finish and resolve itself in a way that's satisfying is a whole other challenge that many creators, including Rachel, find themselves unable to tackle; and nothing is a greater example of that than LO's third season, which is now fumbling its plotlines that have failed to resolve themselves properly after 5 years, while introducing new ones that serve as mere distractions, as if they were a laser pointer aimed at a cat.

I hear the argument, "LO is a better story if you binge read it" a lot, which - while I can certainly understand in today's culture of content that's churned out to be binged - I still fail to see how it actually makes LO a better story. Binge-reading LO doesn't remove the pointless plotlines. It doesn't fix its blatant timeline problems, its retcons, or its inability to stay focused on one topic for more than 5 panels. All it really fixes is the waiting, the ritualistic toiling over each and every cliffhanger that caps off the weekly episodes just for them to either be resolved in the next week or left behind with no in-between. And while having all that waiting removed certainly makes the reading experience a lot smoother, it doesn't make the story or its writing better.

The relationship between a story's writing and how the audience experiences it shouldn't be overlooked. Many stories depend on how the audience experiences it within the mind to succeed and leave an impression.

Junji Ito utilizes the dreaded page turn to scare his audience, an effect that can only be truly gained and appreciated if you read his books in traditional print.

Marvel spent years meticulously building up its Avengers franchise, culminating in a once-in-a-lifetime cinematic event through Avengers: Endgame, which is truly the epitome of "you had to be there", because if you watch Avengers: Endgame in 2024 in your living room, you're likely not going to experience the same level of hype as audiences experiencing it in the theater in 2019.

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The same can be said for James' Cameron's Avatar, which entranced audiences with its innovative motion capture CGI and immersive 3D effects, an experience that could only be lived to the fullest if you saw it in 3D in IMAX theaters back in 2009. Without that experience, most people in 2024 find the movie to be pretty generic and uninteresting, a reverse Pocahontas with blue people in space, but when it first released in IMAX theaters in 2009, it was a cultural and technological phenomenon due to how advanced it was in its VFX. I can't even share with you clips of it, because obviously it would just be proving my point to try and show you how groundbreaking Avatar was in theaters through a bad shaky cam Youtube upload of its IMAX release on Youtube, but let's just say that it wasn't uncommon for people to brag about how many times they'd gone back to watch the same movie just to feel what they felt from the first showing all over again.

All that's to say that while Lore Olympus may offer a 'better' reading experience when binge-read - regardless of whether or not it actually helps the story's pacing problems - the reality is that LO is still being written exclusively with the weekly format in mind, and its been very much to its detriment, both in the short-term and in the long-term. Readers are often left in the dark on plotlines for weeks at a time, Rachel loses track of what she has and hasn't addressed, and the extended waiting times trick readers into believing that weeks have passed in the comic's story, when in reality it's only been a day or two, sometimes as little as hours depending on the sequence; meanwhile, if you binge episodes that had those problems in hindsight, you'll likely be a lot more quick to notice how many plot beats are either retconned or abandoned entirely, because you don't have the weekly waiting times artificially inflating the pacing of the story and causing you to forget what was established weeks before, because when binged, those weeks are reduced to hours and minutes.

And worst of all, with the assumption that you're reading on a weekly basis - as it wants you to do - Rachel tries to pull clever stunts by matching up LO's episodes with real life dates and holidays, which often just makes the story beats feel rushed or random in their execution - because to the vast majority of readers who haven't caught on to this or are reading the episodes through the physical books, they are rushed and random, and they can't exactly explain why.

Binging these episodes doesn't solve the problem, if anything it exemplifies them because, as a shining example, Hades and Persephone suddenly get married right in the middle of an ongoing issue, which isn't exactly the best time to wrap up the story's main plotline. Since then readers have become less and less interested in their story, and can you blame them? By all accounts their story is over. Everything now just feels tacked on to give them something to do in a story they no longer fit into.

There's an episode behind the FastPass lock right now, Episode 265. It unlocks for free on February 17th, three days after Valentine's Day. Guess what episode it is?

Ah yes, the episode where Hades' initiates sex without consent with his wife who's suffering from panic attacks, who also happens to be a rape victim. Happy Valentine's Day, everyone.

I actually made this particular discovery while writing this essay, so that was a very unwelcome surprise, but it explains the sudden random shift from Persephone being so stressed over the ongoing situation that she's passed out to Hades just deciding for the both of them that now's the time to have sex. As much as the fans will defend this as a husband and wife's last chance at intimacy before diving into a dangerous situation, they'll also still conveniently forget - just like the narrative and Rachel herself - that Persephone is a rape victim, and Hades initiating sex with her after nearly having a panic attack isn't exactly a good look.

This is why our theories as to when LO ends are so firmly cemented in one specific time range, because the story's pacing and distractions seem only intent in one thing - getting the story to last until spring, when the series will most likely conclude. It's basically been all but confirmed by Rachel, from her stating the series would be ending in early 2024, to Inklore - an imprint that seems designed specifically for Rachel and LO - launching officially in spring of this year, undoubtedly just in time for Rachel to wrap up LO for good.

(and boy, do I have some words about Inklore and its plans for "Rachel Smythe Presents", but that's another essay entirely.)

At the end of the day, LO's pacing is equivalent to paint drying on the wall, but it relentlessly convinces us to keep watching because the paint is blue and pink and maybe, maybe it'll turn into a piece of art. But as is evident in the comment sections of the newest episodes, even the fans are starting to realize that paint will not magically turn into the final piece of art they've been waiting to see if the hand that wields it doesn't know what it's doing.

Though style may be gained as an accidental side effect of one's influences and experiences, what Lore Olympus' intent is remains to be seen, and the longer the story goes on, the blurrier whatever intent it could have becomes. Unless it somehow manages to pull off a twist of Attack on Titan proportions that thoroughly explains and ties together the plotlines that have been left in the rearview mirror, the vehicle that is LO will continue to trudge along at a snail's pace, until it inevitably either crosses the finish line or crashes - but by that point, anyone waiting for it could very well be gone, their good faith left behind at the starting line when there was still plenty of time to change its trajectory or stop.

Such a time is long, long gone.

#lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #lo critical

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